they say the way to your heart is through your stomach

Being a Southern girl, if I love someone I cook for them, and worry about them, and bring them presents every time I pay them a visit. Lately this has extended to my offering to make a meal at my friend's houses when I go over for a Buffy or Lost. I worry that they don't eat well, being the sort of boy vegetarian who eats too much white rice and fake meat.

I've been trying to eat an exceptionally well-balanced diet lately. Friday I made mushroom and sweet potato tacos with avocado, chipotle sauce, and onion-steamed kale. Tonight, after a Marinol (BEST CARE PACKAGE EVER), I revived the pressure cooker to make some catfish gumbo. Onions, ginger, garlic, blackeyed peas, organic canned tomatoes, okra, and the last piece of catfish from the giant 4 pound fish I got up at Armitage Produce.

I've gotten so sensitive to what I put in my body. Saturday night I had a gin and tonic and maybe 2 cups of wine and was miserable all day yesterday. Days I eat toast instead of fish and vegetables I can feel it in my energy levels and in my digestion. Hella wicked evil stomach.

I wish my cooking could heal my broken heart, and yours.