You know that sticky white rice
you find at American Chinese restaurants? And that reddish pink "sweet n' sour"
sauce you also find at American Chinese restaurants?
I love that shit.
I love dripping copious amounts
of that sauce over the plain rice and watching it turn from light pink to
reddish, all the while I am telling myself to use as little as possible. I love
eating it. I consume its warm, sick sweetness with much voracity. It's nothing
but sugar and cheap carbohydrate, but I wallow in the self indulgence.
I don't buy these things for
myself; it's my parents and associates. They buy takeout filled with sodium and
saturated fat, and they don't like rice without it being fried with bits of
animal in it. So, they stop by and give me the rice because they know I often pair
it with flavor it with fresh garlic, ginger, and chiles, and pile it with stir-fried
vegetables.
But sometimes...sometimes there is
that sauce. It beckons to me--beckons to my childhood memories of comfortableness
with unhealthy eating habits...and I just can't help myself. I've just got to
have it. Just a taste. I bargain with myself: "Only a little serving of white
rice and a tablespoon of sauce. I'll save the rest of the rice to accompany my
[name of healthy vegetable dish]." But a little bit of rice becomes half the
carton and way too much sauce, and then a few subsequent spoonfuls rice later I
figure I might as well finish it all off in one sitting...
If foodie-dom were like the
Catholic Church, then admission to this kind of lust in confession would no
doubt cause the priest to grip hir lentil bead rosary tighter and cringe at the
unholiness of the flock.
"Vicar! Forgive me! I cannot bare
this secret! Visions of these warm satanic sugars plague my every waking hour!
This scarlet lust stirs in me and I just can't control it! Free me from this
temptress! Why can't I stop, oh why?! The madness! THE MADNESS OF IT ALL!"
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| Satan steams among us. |
