Living Well

It is true I find solace in preparing and eating food. It has been clearly demonstrated over the years by the fact I always got fat whenever life threw me into the dark places where the black dog dwells. It is why I named my cookery blog Kummerspeck. The German word for comfort food, which translates literally as “grief bacon”.

A couple of my latest experiments, HERE. And. HERE, are pretty good examples.

Those two plates, along with some sweetcorn and a banana smoothie, are my food for today. Delicious, and well within my daily kilojoule budget. Enough spare for a glass of wine or a nip of whiskey before bed.

I won’t deny I still seek solace. I live alone. Far from those I care most about. I have friends, and cheerful acquaintances but the people who contact me to check on my well-being are not those one might expect. Still. Somebody cares.

I still find solace in food. Now I seek out food that is satisfying, tasty, and good for me. It turns out quite surprisingly that with very few exceptions, such as kippers, the foods that are good for me are the very same foods that were bad for me. The only differences are a little in the preparation, and a lot in the portion size.

I have taken this concept of mindful eating seriously to heart. My taste buds are adjusting to less salt. I have really been concentrating on experiencing the appearance, colour, texture, aroma of my food as well as the taste and mouth sensations experienced as I chew, dissolve and swallow. I am distinguishing the umami, salt, bitter and sweet, as well as the aromatic components. I had a couple of steamed sweetcorn cobs today, unsalted, with a nob of unsalted butter. I could taste things I had never really given any attention to before.

This blog is more and more becoming a journal. A letter to myself. Which is how I started out.

Author: Uisce úr

Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.

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