Well, it is the fourth day of my paleolithic challenge, and so far I have managed to hold up fairly well: I haven’t slipped and eaten something I’m not supposed to.
My grandmother, a fantastic baker, has started making her renown – and delicious – mini-pies (see pictures), filled with a mashed potato/mushroom stuffing. They constitute some of the most delicious food I have ever had the pleasure to eat. Their aroma is intoxicating, their consistency delightful, their flavours – mind-blowing.
And they’re driving me crazy.
If anything will break what little resolve I have, this is it. I have fled to my second-floor office to evade the smell, but it has started seeping in under my door even up here. I have some yogurt and blackberries in front of me to distract me from what’s going on downstairs.
What makes all of this worse is the perpetual feeling of hunger that has settled uncomfortably somewhere in the pit of my stomach. I’m not sure if it’s what I’m eating, or if it’s what I’m NOT eating, but something has me constantly thinking about food, about all the deliciousness that I am missing, all the yummy pastries with which I could be stuffing myself…the yummy pastries currently being baked downstairs in my own kitchen…
Never before have I wanted to move out into my own place more than at this moment.