My doctor won’t agree – comfort food medicates my stress. But hey, I’m not so bad. On a scale of 1 to 10, I’m likely 8 on narrowing the gap between choosing food that’s good for me vs. less healthy comfort food. That’s definitely leaps of improvement from what it was when I was decades or more years younger. The redemptive part is, when I pig out on comfort food, I make it up with pots of nourishing food. Then I reckon I’m forgiven.
After last night’s devouring of triple share of sweet and salty kettle popcorn, the best and fluffiest I’ve had, I felt terribly bloated – extremely satisfied, but bloated. So tonight, I cooked a large pot of broccoli for dinner. I love broccoli, so that didn’t resonate as punishment. A dash of salt and a spoon of butter in the water as it simmers whip up a deeper flavor in the vegetables. Broccoli provides the carbs that I sometimes crave for. Broccoli has become my favorite rice substitute. Interestingly, I’ve evolved a peculiarity in eating it, an idiosyncrasy that has stuck. Holding the mini tree by the stem, I munch on the leaves before chewing the trunk … arduously, tree by tree, till all of the vegetable is gone from a previously heaping plate.
Cooking broccoli exudes a sharply distinctive smell that turns away some people. If one isn’t used to it, the aroma could reverse one’s desire for it. But not me. It doesn’t bother me. Broccoli for a meal, or for snacks is wonderful. Try it. It’s of the cruciferous family with cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, cabbage, arugula, water crest – according to published studies, can boost cancer prevention, weight loss, reduce risks of diabetes and heart disease. That’s all helpful information and motivation, but I eat broccoli because I love it.