FEED ME.

I. love. food. I love it. I can’t get enough of it. Short of taking a bath in chocolate silk and spritzing my pits with essence of beef jerky, I cannot live without it. It is for this reason that I have never, and probably never will, fast for Jesus. (Sorry Jesus, but you’re the one who created me.) Food is also the sole reason that I am ever cranky. (Not to be confused with being stressed, PMS, and/or in a general bad mood.) You can call me at 5am and I will answer chipper as a bluebird. You can call me names, tug on my hair, or question my sexual identity. But should you ever be so misfortunate to find me hungry, run. Run for your life or, rather, run to the nearest restaurant and warn the chef.

I’m not sure where my love of food originated. I suppose it’s only fair to give the Chinese some credit. After all, the kitchen is a Chinese family’s most prized and messiest room. They pride themselves in their dishes so much that dish-naming is an art. Every dish is preceded by its fanciful name, followed by due “oooh’s” and “ahhh’s” from the hungry spectators. Why, the Chinese love food so much, they don’t even bother with drinks. (Very opposite from American culture, yes?) Before Western culture saturated China, the drink of choice for meals was hot tea. You’ll notice that even then, the teacups were, and still are, small. Rather, the Chinese prefer their liquid to come in the form of soup. When my sister and I were little, our requests for drinks were met by scolding glares by our parents. Eventually, my dad relented and grew accustomed to ordering us tap water. If we were lucky, we got Sprite.

Still, I like to think I was born with an extra sense for food. The demands of an American lifestyle has forced me to concede on some otherwise homemade meals, but generally I like my food as homemade as time and patience allows. Above all, I have to have food – all the time, for every occasion, or no occasion at all.

When I lived at home, eating good meals was never a problem. (Hygiene was, but let’s not go there.) Either Mom or Dad would cook Chinese, and if they were feeling lazy, we’d order out…Chinese food, that is. Once I left for college, eating and eating well became an obstacle. The dining hall was in another building, their food was less than appetizing, there were no kitchens in our dorms, no room to store food, and worst of all, I had no car. Desperate times called for desperate measures. I called every single friend with four wheels so that, like clockwork, each one took turns taking me to the grocery story every other weekend. They’d help me carry all my bags up the stairs to my dorm room where I would carefully store away my precious treasures in my mini-fridge and storage bins. I washed dishes in the bathroom sink. Once, freshman year, I bought a pineapple and spent half an hour chopping away at a small sink with a pint-size knife. I lost count how many classes I was late to simply because I had to stop and buy food. My junior year, I moved into a dorm with a kitchen. I spent most of that year running between my room and the kitchen down the hall to turn this over, put more spice of that, on and on. I moved into an apartment my senior year, and it was also the first year I had a car. Spare hours, especially in times of stress, were whittled over the stove.

Now that I’m out on my own and working, I have less time and energy to cook. (Plus, Jason’s parents always give me a free meal when I’m over and that is A-OK with me.) However, I eat just as much, if not more. If anything, my eating habits have gotten more frequent and much more erratic. Observe today’s feeding so far:

• 2 french toasts with butter and syrup
• A bowl of oatmeal with pork sung
• 2 butter crackers
• 1 milk chocolate truffle
• Several skittles (only purple and red)
• 2 lychee jellos
• 2 slices of raisin bread
• A handful of kettle popcorn

Now before you start gagging, a few addendums: I didn’t use that much butter or syrup, there was no sugar in the oatmeal, the potato chips were fat-free, I only used a little bit of butter and syrup, and the crackers were reduced-fat. I know what you’re thinking: “COP OUT!” But I promise I’m not. I eat what I like. I eat what tastes good to me. It just so happens that I prefer the taste of fat-free potato chips and reduced-fat crackers, and too much butter or syrup makes my stomach hurt. On the same side of the coin, I also prefer the full-fat versions of all cakes, pies, chocolates, soups, and most cheeses.

So yes, I’m a food lover. No food fetish (unless you count ketchup, GOD BLESS KETCHUP), I don’t substitute food for love, and I stop eating when I’m full (unless it’s a buffet, got to get your bang for your buck).

While we’re on this topic, I might as well close this session with a short list of some of my favorite foods:

• Squash soup
• Sweet potato fries
• Anything with ketchup
• Kettle popcorn
• Corn – cornbread, corn casserole, corn of the cob, corn corn corn
• Blueberries
• Taro – taro bread, taro wafers, taro soup, taro taro taro
• Sunny-side up eggs
• Jellyfish
• String seaweed and cucumbers in vinegar
• Pies – blackberry, chocolate silk, key lime
• Cookies n’ cream ice cream
• Bubble tea
• Eggplant – parmesan or diced in oil with beef on rice
• Chai tea

If you don’t know what something is, either look it up or ask me. Until then, feast on, feasters!