I don't like pea protein in my smoothies. Mike doesn't like
rice protein. Nick doesn't eat anything healthy at all.
The other morning, I heard Mike in the kitchen making his
lunch and his smoothie. Nick was still in bed. He's seventeen. He stays up
late. He eats junk in the night and leaves piles of garbage and dirty dishes on
the end table so when I came out of my bedroom and headed toward the kitchen, I
could see exactly what he'd eaten. That morning, there was no evidence of the
romaine I'd prepared and put next to Caesar dressing and croutons in the
fridge. There was no evidence he ate the ready-to-eat snap peas or the carrots
from the fridge either or especially the daikon radish I sliced and placed in a
prominent spot after offering him a taste.
I shuffled into the kitchen and hugged Mike good morning.
Then, I pulled out the ingredients for my smoothie. I was almost out of rice
protein.
"Hey, when you get done with the pea protein you're
eating, will you try the pea protein Nutribiotic sent me?" I asked Mike.
Nutribiotic had responded to a complaint I had about an
altered taste in their rice protein by sending me three huge bottles of
improved rice protein along with a container of pea protein to try. It was the
most personal and generous response to a complaint I had ever gotten. But I'd
eaten all the rice protein they'd sent and only had the pea protein left. I
didn't want to try the pea protein. I liked my rice protein.
See, I put hemp milk, a little bit of half and half, cocoa,
stevia, rice protein, and ice cubes into my Nutribullet cup and I've got a milk
shake for breakfast that tastes like a chocolate malt. Every single morning, I
drink a chocolate malt. I remembered standing in the Dairy Queen line on a hot
Saturday afternoon with my family and scouring the menu. Even after considering
all the possibilities, I would order a chocolate malt. I liked my chocolate
malt. Who would have thought I'd get away with having one for breakfast every
day when I became an adult? My attention came back to Mike when I realized he'd
answered me.
"What?" I said. He thinks I'm hard of hearing. I'm
not, not so much. I just have ADD, I think, or brain damage. I stare into space
sometimes when people talk to me.
"I like the stuff I've got," Mike repeated.
"You might like this stuff too."
"But you
don't like it."
"I haven't tried
it, but I like my rice protein."
"So, why should I try it?"
"Because we have a whole jug of it and I don't want to
throw it away."
Mike didn't say anything. Stalemate.
As we've gotten older, we've all diverged in terms of food. I
mean it-we
have diverged in almost all areas of
food.
I should explain that some of this is because of our food
allergies and intolerances. Yes, we have more than one.
Nick has a life-threatening tree nut allergy for which he
carries a set of EpiPens everywhere with him. I eat almonds or cashews almost every
day, but I have to do it so carefully that he never comes in contact with them,
with even the dust from them. He won't even unload them from the groceries when
I shop. I get that. I do.
Mike has IBS that is totally managed by eliminating fibrous
vegetables like onions, greens, broccoli, asparagus, radishes, peppers, and
celery. Have you ever tried to cook without onions? He can eat onion powder,
but onion flakes give him problems. You know, problems, digestive problems.
I eat some combination of onions, greens, broccoli, radishes, and celery every
single day. Peppers give me gas though, so I don't eat peppers.
Nick has a fructose intolerance, so he can't eat too much of
anything that is related to that, high fructose corn syrup, sugar, natural
fructose in fruits, honey, or even stevia. It gives him a stomach ache. The
doctor says it causes no damage, but it hurts. You'd think that would slow him
down, but it doesn't. He eats junk right up to his limit and sometimes beyond.
We've told him that if he eats too much sugar and his stomach hurts, he still
has to go to school. He's had some pretty miserable days at school. Did you
know that there is high fructose corn syrup in bread and in roast beef from the
deli? That shit is in so much stuff in the grocery store. It's ridiculous.
I have developed an allergy to shrimp. That sucks, doesn't
it? I love shrimp. I love sushi. So now, I have to brink Nick and his EpiPen
every time I go eat sushi in case I get some shrimp and my reaction gets worse
than the last time I goofed up, ate shrimp, and my eyes and lips swelled up.
And I have to eat a low-carb diet like a diabetic because
I'm prediabetic and my doctor and I agree that I should handle it with diet
instead of drugs. I can't eat sugar, high fructose corn syrup, sugar, or honey.
And yes, for all those cheerful people who like to make suggestions, agave has
just as many carbs in it as sugar and honey, so that's out too. On top of that,
I can't eat much rice, potatoes, pasta, cereal, oats, bread, or beans. It
sucks. I miss hanging onto a sandwich. I miss carbo-loading. I miss spaghetti,
ham and beans, oatmeal. I fucking miss eating a bowl of Miniwheats.
On top of that, I've become lactose intolerant. This is
totally fucked because before when I didn't feel I got enough to eat, I'd go to
the fridge and eat a hunk of cheese. Man, I used to have seven or eight different
kinds of cheeses in the cheese drawer at any given time. It was glorious when
we went to France.
I didn't mind not eating the pastries because I ate French cheese.
Now I can't eat any dairy but lactose-free milk and a touch
of cheese if I remember to take a pill with it. Do you know how many
restaurants throw cheese on everything? Try ordering a salad without cheese.
You know that math in fifth grade-sets? They give you a
logic question about who read how many books and you're supposed to figure out
the answer by putting the people and the numbers in overlapping circles. Do you
remember that shit?
Well, if you put all the foods my family can eat into
circles and overlap them accordingly, then Mike, Nick, and I only have meat, green
beans, carrots, zucchini, yellow squash, and cauliflower in common in our
diets. We can all eat apples, but I don't usually eat a whole one. We can all
eat fruit, but I have to watch those carbs rise so I never get to eat very much.
You'd think that would make me thin, but just look at me.
We eat meat together. Every single member of our family can
eat meat and eggs. No, wait. Mike had a heart attack, a mild one. Yes, he's
okay. Thank you for asking. But he can't eat real eggs or any transfats. Imagine
that, no butter. He eliminated cheese for a while, but eventually, he missed it
too much and he eats it now anyway.
So, imagine cooking a meal for my family. Just try to make
something we can all eat. I'll tell you what it is:
steak or roasted chicken or pork
roasted cauliflower and zucchini
steamed green beans and carrots
That's it. That's your meal. If you eat that even once a
week, you get to a point that you hate it. Mike is not thrilled by it. Nick
hates it. I hate it. I fucking hate
it.
So the rest of the 313 days a year, I get the joy of making all this shit I can't eat so
my family has a decent dinner. I eat greens while they have roasted potatoes, chicken
Alfredo, beef stroganoff, pizza, calzones, orange chicken, chili, pulled pork
sandwiches with barbecue sauce, gyros, spaghetti and meatballs, enchiladas,
lasagna, skewered chicken in peanut sauce, hamburgers, oatmeal with raisins, rice
pudding, apple pie, pumpkin pie, lemon meringue pie, and fucking chocolate chip
cookies made with the traditional tollhouse recipe.
You're hungry now, aren't you? I'll cook it. I will. But can't
you just shoot me before dinner? Or maybe not because I get to have a chocolate malt for breakfast.
Thank you for listening, jb