Dear reader,
The first week of the war, I wasn’t craving anything except stability. A month later, I’m still chasing stability, but my "not eating" days are officially over. I’ve actually swung violently in the opposite direction. I’m eating everything I can get my hands on.
I know I said last week’s ice cream and chocolate pita sandwich was a moment of "genius," but looking back, it was catastrophic.
The weird part I’ve noticed is that my (admittedly childish) taste buds are actually evolving. I ate a burger the other day, and for the first time ever, I kept the tomatoes. I had a falafel sandwich and actually enjoyed it. I even ate cooked salmon and didn't mind it.
I’m keeping the red and yellow bell peppers in my salads because they're "antioxidants," as my mother says, like it's some kind of miracle cure for everything.
It’s like my brain hit a reset button. When you’re living day by day, your internal picky eater shuts off or fades away. I guess I came to my senses that hating broccoli or being grossed out by the texture of food is a privilege I don’t feel comfortable with anymore. My brain is too busy processing the news to care about a vegetable. Still, I’m hoping this doesn’t last long.
I’m starting to wonder if these might be my last days as a picky eater. Is this what it feels like to finally be able to go out into society as an adult?
It makes me think of the other things we were picky about. Maybe the war isn't just changing our routines, it’s stripping away the unnecessary habits we used to define ourselves by. I managed to eat a plate of hindbeh. Who even am I?
I know it goes the other way too; your appetite might have disappeared, or it’s fluctuating every day. But in all cases, stay safe and keep eating, even if it’s just a few bites.
If you’re celebrating Easter this Sunday, here’s a maamoul recipe I recommend you try making at home with your family.
Melissa Manouchakian
Distribution editor
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