Thursday, 12 March 2015

An ode to familiar food

I miss the comfort of my own food. After two weeks on the road, I have eaten it all. Overcooked pasta in bland sauce, and five-star hotel meaks with several courses and artistically scattered herbs. Fresh fruit juices with extra sugar, and dinners consisting of cookies and a bottle of water. Countless sandwiches on the go and more little boxes of airplane food than I care to admit. So much sugar,  so much fat, so many carbs. My body is riding a roller coaster of highs and lows and slumps.

I miss my simple food from home. Porridge in the morning,  just milk and oats and warmth. Stir-fries in the evening, with big piles of fresh vegetables,  aldente rice and some soy sauce on top. Crunchy salads with fesh lemon juice. I miss the process of chopping and stirring and waiting. I miss the structure food gives to my life.


  1. This is also something I miss when traveling. Which I why I sometimes prefer Hostels for their possibility of self cooking...

  2. I prefer hostels too, partially for that reason, but it is somehow still never the same as cooking in ones own kitchen, with all the right ingredients and the oven whose temperament one can judge.


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