Eating What You Are

My parents trained me at a very young age to adversely react to the word "aspartame." Equipped with the understanding that aspartame was "bad" and most likely caused brain tumors, I took it upon myself to educate anyone less well-versed in healthy eating behaviors.

We can all see how that turned out.

Besides aspartame, I soon scorned iceberg lettuce, questionable meat products (i.e. hot dogs) and any baked goods that came from a box. They were all just a little too unreal for me.

While I can blame my parents for establishing characteristics of good food versus bad food, in my mind I have expanded these rules to epic proportions. After all, they're still eating all of the aforementioned foods. (Sans baking mixes. I've never seen a box in our house. Ever.)

College did me in completely. Here, I am free to develop even greater food neuroses. No hydrogenated oils or high fructose corn syrup. No high fat milk or high sodium snacks.

But why?

I've already learned in my food studies class that while we define the foods we eat, the foods we eat also define us. Sure, my eating habits demonstrate my need for control (in all situations). But I'm also succumbing to a very human need for fresh food--for that just-off-the-vine aroma. Or that just-slaughtered flavor. Mm-mm.

I know my friends consider me a food snob, much like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally. But I remain absolutely unapologetic; “I just want it the way I want it.” If we are what we eat and, more importantly, how we eat, then I think that being fastidious tastes pretty freaking delicious.