Jello Tastes Like Broken Dreams

So, if you've been keeping up with my medical bullshit, you know that I'm fasting right now for two tests that I was moronic enough to schedule back to back. Today, a cat scan with contrast dye (nothing in my stomach  past midnight the night before except water to take my medications) and then a <gulp> colonoscopy tomorrow.

Yeah, I love starting blog posts this way. It just really brings a certain something to them, doesn't it?

So anyways, I'm really freakin' hungry. I couldn't have anything with nuts, seeds, or beans all weekend. There goes any snack foods I love and I've been subsisting solely off of snacks for the past two weeks. Oh God, hummus, we will meet again. Soon. 

Basically, the only things I can eat today after the scan are Jello (see the post title in reference to how I feel about that crap) and something called beef consomme. Which is what I use to make beef stew. I make a killer beef stew. Sometimes I do a red wine reduction. Mmmmm.

I love food. I used to seriously hate it because food, it turns out, can make you fat when you don't exercise and guess what I hate to do? Yep.

Since moving to Louisiana, I've gained 40lbs. Forty freakin' pounds. Most of that has been this year alone. I have no shame.

I live outside of New Orleans, FFS! We are good food, people.

There is crawfish, shrimp (and, if you've ever watched the cinematic masterpiece, Forrest Gump, you know that there are hundreds of ways to cook them and most of them aren't that healthy- all are tasty), oysters with sauces... Oh God, the sauces. I make a mean gravy, I rock the hell out of sauce. Also, bread pudding. And screw you, Jim Walter! Bread pudding is why God created bread and white chocolate bourbon sauce!

Every two weeks, I grocery shop. That means I meal plan, usually very carefully.  As in, a whole chicken is carefully basted and roasted in the oven, then the leftovers are turned into Caribbean chicken. Or chicken and dumplins'. <that wasn't a typo, I'm Southern>

I like cooking, for the most part because I love eating. I'm a HELL of a cook, too.


But this morning, I'm writing a seriously stupid post because I can only eat the stuff that tastes like broken dreams and something that is stock for gravy. I want bread pudding. From Copeland's. Which is a block from my apartment. It'd still be hot by the time it gets here.

Oh God... I'm going to end up eating my hair.

*Editor's note: I fully intend on eating ALL THE DAMNED THINGS after Tuesday. We're talking binge eating like a mofo. And then, because I've been vomiting like crazy, I'll probably spew like a sorostitute during Rush Week. 

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