I was recently invited to take part in a study. The person doing the studying was studying people who live in apartments, and their relation to food, or their attitudes to food, or summat.
The upshot is that I've been taking a photo or three every day, to document what I do with food. Not so much the eating of it, but more the sourcing and preparing of the foody substances.
Rather than just allow such vital information to moulder away in the dusty halls of academe, I though I should also share it with the wider world. So here we go. Strap yourselves in, cats and kittens.
Exhibit one is the "before" photograph of a not-untypical breakfast. In this instance it's a pack of 3-Minute Khatta Meetha Poha. Poha is (it says here) a kind of flattened rice flake. Apparently the rice flakes are flattened in a process similar to that used in the production of rolled oats. Never having produced any rolled oats, this information leaves me none the wiser.
It's jolly tasty, anyway. Today I've decided to have about half a pack, padded out with some frozen peas and finely chopped carrot, with a boiled egg to accompany. The other half I'll reheat for breakfast tomorrow. Looking at the packet closely, I now see that it is intended to produce three servings, even without the extras. I thought it was a single serve. No wonder it's so filling.
These Pyrex storage jars are brilliant. I just wish they came with wood/cork/rubber lids rather than plastic. You can reheat the contents thereof by putting them in a bath of water in a saucepan and bring it up to a simmer till the food's warmed through. It saves me having to keep a microwave, so I've that much more storage space. Also this prevents me from living exclusively on microwave popcorn, cardboard box wine, and chocolate digestives. Given the opportunity, I'm not sure I'd be able to resist. My life basically depends on an elaborate set of Ulysses pacts.
On the way to a U3A class this morning, I stop off at the Queen Victoria Market for a couple of bananas and some cabbage. Yes, I often turn up to class with a bag of fresh produce. Doubtless my classmates accept this as the perfectly normal behaviour of a sophisticated lady-about-town.
Every few months I have a scheduled moment of weakness, and buy a huge pack of fried chicken. For a few days, it's a splendid little holiday, not having to think about what I'm going to prepare for dinner. Then for another few days, it becomes a rather grim slog through cold chicken and boiled/steamed veg. By the end, I suspect it's also a potential health hazard. But once it's all over, I have absolutely no appetite for fried chicken for another couple of months. Tonight I'm just about at the end of it, thank heavens.
Ideally, I'd reheat the chicken in the oven. This tends to cook out some of the fat in the chicken, which I am sure is no bad thing. Unfortunately I have no oven.
If you've not tried it, I can highly recommend the combination of fried chicken and pickled jalapeños. I also threw in a bit of pickled mixed veg. Trans women who incessantly crave pickles is a massive stereotype, I'm afraid. I don't know the medical reason for it, but I accept that one can't fight nature.
I only ever serve my dinner on these little side plates, if not in a bowl. In fact I don't even own any full size dinner plates. It's another of my Ulysses pacts. With a larger plate it's too easy to fill it up with more food than you need.
That gets us to the end of our first day. Under the circumstances, I think we should move swiftly on, don't you?