The Drunk Tending The Bar

Out of desperation, I took another cooking gig. It's a big fancy catering company based in Oakland, and the food is amazing! It had been so long since my last job, and my stress levels over my financial situation were practically life threatening, so I bit the bullet and manifested a source of income I was used to--despite my body's protests.

At first things were great. I was back in the saddle again! Receiving a paycheck had never felt so good. True, I was making about half of what I was used to, but beggars can't be choosers. I told myself that I would allow a last hoorah of indulgences through the holidays, and then that was it--I would be back on the wagon again. I believe AA calls this bargaining. I've been bargaining with myself for my fix, and mysteriously, I am still imbibing.

This week, though, things have come to a head. I recently started a truly wonderful relationship with the most amazing man who has ever graced my life. One of the issues that keeps popping up, however, is my lack of follow-through on my word. I met him in the beginning of December and explained what I was doing with my diet, and that come the new year all bets were off--wheat and dairy were out! Well, that hasn't happened, and my relationship is showing signs of suffering over it. I never knew that one could be considered a liar because of something like this, or that my relationship with my lover could suffer because I was breaking a contract with myself. Is there such a thing as CA--a Celiac support group?

After completely sickening myself over a pound of pasta salad, and potentially losing my lover over this broken promise, I have come to the conclusion that something has got to give. I'm not sure how it is going to happen, but I can no longer surround myself with the product of my addiction under the guise of making a few bucks. This drunk can no longer tend bar if she wants recovery and good health to be in her future!

I have been given the gift of taking a couple months off from cooking professionally to reconsider my options, and forge a new path in life. Funny how something so ubiquitous, and seemingly innocuous, can be as debilitating to a healthy life as alcoholism or drug addiction...

Dichotomy

Tonight, dinner was chopped lobster with chipotle aioli and winter greens on a house-made potato roll.

But the real fun is coming now, after the show. At first I was being truly good to myself in my decadent indulgence--Midnight Moon goat cheese and fresh, velvety raspberries. However, that is only to be followed up by french baguettes smothered in warm d'Affinois and apricot-sweet pepper jam--not so good on the tummy, or bowels, or back, or soft muscles, or brain...

Guilty

I haven't written in a very long time. I've felt guilty. So many things happened, and so much grief was experienced last year; I said, "Fuck it," to denying myself any epicurian delight throughout the holidays. The holidays have given way to a sever backslide into the new year--but frankly, my delinquent behavior had been prevalent since the indulgences of summer. With all that, I hardly felt justified in writing a blog about a "recovering" wheat and dairy addict.

Well, not much has changed. But, now I am saying, "Fuck it," to my guilt. This is a diary after all!

I just got  back from a pseudo-interview in Alaska visiting my new boyfriend and exploring the possibility of becoming his personal chef for the next few months. He's amazing, the natural beauty and surroundings of Alaska are amazing, the deal is amazing, and I was eating exactly how I should be and felt absolutely amazing--all of which made things infinitely harder when it came time to leave.

All I wanted to do was stay, but here I am. After 15 hours of travel yesterday and fitful sleep thereafter, I awoke with a start today due to arguing grandparents at home and Valentine's Day rush anxiety about work. There's no predicting what you could be walking into (with the restaurant, particularly)--especially when you've been away for two weeks! But, also, there are any number of variables that could make or break the flow of the evening. It just takes one bad egg...  Anyway, I woke up back in my current reality, crumpled in pain from my guts and my back, and I hadn't even started work yet!

Upon entering the lion's den this afternoon, my tummy started growling, and what is better to eat while working than a sandwich. Next, I previewed the prix fixe menu for the evening: amuse buche of lobster bisque shots; romaine wedges with blue cheese and garlic croutons; entrees with potatoes au gratin cut into little crescent moons; and finishing the event with miniature eclairs made of chocolate pate choux, stuffed with chocolate mouse, drizzled with chocolate ganache, and dusted with gold. Also, for lunch one could have ordered the Valentine's Day trio, which included an angel food cake strewn with macerated strawberries, and D'afinois triple cream brie crustini topped with apricot and sweet pepper marmalade.

How am I possibly expected to resist this stuff, all full of it's wheat and dairy goodness! If I don't eat it; first of all, I have to check my product, and secondly, the left over's will go to waste--and that would be bad. And now we're back to guilt again.

I gotta get out of this place!