Embrace the Lawlessness of Quarantine Eating
Nothing else makes sense, so go ahead and eat three breakfasts
I used to think I knew how to feed myself. My meals followed a routine: I started each morning with oatmeal, had a lunch I’d meal-prepped the Sunday before, and went out to dinner on the weekends. If I baked a dessert or bread, it was because I expected guests. None of these felt like rigid rules I struggled to follow. They just felt like regular life.
Of course, that was before I was stuck in my apartment during one of the most surreal and stressful periods in many of our lifetimes. Now, there are back-to-back bowls of Froot Loops (who knew they still made that?), rosemary focaccias devoured in one sitting, experimental homemade pizzas. Lunch is late morning spaghetti one day and an early evening mug brownie the next. The cooking and eating schedule I previously depended on for a sense of order has vanished. But, like the maple-tahini cookie dough I made at midnight, I’m rolling with it.
I have entered the culinary Wild West.
This is the first time in my adult life when I really don’t know what the next month will look like, and have little personal power to change my circumstances. I can’t rely on the things that would normally bring me comfort during a rough time, like grabbing drinks…
