Emotional eating. We’ve all been there. I’m still there.
- Sudden, urgent cravings (should we stop and get a pizza?)
- Craving only certain foods. Not only do your cravings come on suddenly, but you might only want to eat certain foods. …(white cheddar)
- Overeating (if the bag /pint/jar is open …)
- Shame or guilt (twin thieves that rob us of our pleasure)
But sometimes it’s okay to go ahead and eat your feelings. Just eat them in moderation. And hell, by the time you make these recipes, you’ll have burned enough kitchen calories to justify a couple of bites.
No-Bake Coffee Cheesecake in a Jar – A Simple Cake for Complex Emotions
Complex emotions -from a life of deposition, accumulation, and solidification- of murky boundaries, harsh criticisms, necessary losses, shame particles, parental narcissism, hope and love….all stuffed & layered into a single jar! Mmm Mmm.
For example, what could be more loaded and layered than Mother’s Day? A day of the year when things are supposed to be a certain way –but they aren’t that way the other 364 days. I am often moody and sensitive and defensive around my mom for no reason at all except a lifetime of feeling judged (the once-over almost imperceptible to the casual viewer: what I am wearing, how my hair is, the flash of approval or disapproval). So I betray my gratitude with passive aggressive comments and feel tremendous guilt about not being a better daughter because really all she wants is for her children to be happy after all and she tried her best. And I feel love for her though you would never know it and am not able to express it in a mature, adultish way, so I am always teetering on the fringes of my 15 year old self. Oh, and also I have been pre-grieving her death for years (yes, pre-grieving is a thing) and am feeling future guilt and regret. So, on a day like Mother’s Day, I try to let the guard down a little, try to express some feeling, be nice, try not to cry, and especially try not to go back to being a dick the very next day. But it all feels unnatural and not the way I’d imagined or hoped it would be. And when it all falls apart and I’m back home alone and crushed, it’s time to hit the pre-made jar of cheesecake and start journaling.
Call of the Void Whiskey Shake Up – The ‘You’re Actually Not Suicidal Shake’
In a scene from one of my favorite movies ever – Annie Hall– a very young (but still odd) Christopher Walken has a small scene as Diane Keaton’s brother, Duane.
He says: Can I confess something? I tell you this as an artist, I think you’ll understand. Sometimes when I’m driving… on the road at night… I see two headlights coming toward me. Fast. I have this sudden impulse to turn the wheel quickly, head-on into the oncoming car.
And then you’re like, What the F is wrong with me?
Um….yes. You know that feeling, right? Like when you’re at Niagara Falls (Horseshoe, Canadian side) leaning over that one spot in the corner, and suddenly you’re like, I could just lean a little more and tumble over. And I might just. I don’t think I am suicidal, but why do I sometimes worry I might suddenly hurl myself in front of the C train?
Friends, it’s time to make a Peanut Butter and Whiskey Milkshake and acknowledge this science-backed phenomenon, l’appel du vide, or, the call of the void (a term for the emoters among us).
So, should you find yourself being called to the void… get yourself to a wide, flat space-preferably your couch- and chill with an alcoholic milkshake, and know that you’re not a freak. And maybe watch Annie Hall, genius.
Nothing Good Ever Happened on a Tuesday Jar of Cookie Dough (with mix-ins)
Constantinople fell on a Tuesday. The stock market crashed on Tuesday. September 11 was a Tuesday. And Elvis fucking died on a Tuesday. I’ll never forget being in the back of the Pontiac LeMans, rolling around, 70s-seatbelt-free, playing license plate bingo on the way to visit grandma Franco in Connecticut. August 16, two weeks after my birthday. The radio announcer interrupting “Singer Elvis Presley has died at the age of 42.” If that memory is not enough to drive you to soft seating with a mason jar of cookie dough (with mix-ins) and a King Creole | Viva Las Vegas double feature, I don’t know what is.
You’re Going To Die & You Don’t Know When Tater Tot Skewers
And also, everyone you love is going to die and you don’t know when. Double the portion. People are there and then they are not. People you love, people someone loves. Just look at old photographs – people in black and white, smoking, drinking and smiling at a banquet table with friends -celebrating milestones. What did they do before and after that photo? They lived their lives like you and me, but the big vanish comes for us all. The ultimate magic trick. Now you see ‘em, now you don’t. Poof! People disappear on a regular basis, suddenly and without warning! I can’t get over this even though it’s quite a normal occurrence, but nobody wants to think about this. The universe has no exit strategy.
But don’t worry – You’ll have died & gone to heaven once you’ve tasted these bacon-loaded cheese tots. Skew ‘em up, pour yourself a beer and settle in for the next 7 episodes of Better Call Saul.
Or better yet, Six Feet Under.
Parenting Fail Fondue — Recipes For Melting Parental Shame & Regret
When the teacher calls and says your child called Nunzio “Nuni” Zamboni a stupid -fat-loser-pig-retard, with a tone that says, “What kind of devil-child are you raising?” (and just who in your household is teaching them the “R” word?) Or, like in my case, your teen is a hateful, angry volatile litigator and has just presented his case for why you are batshit crazy, have ruined his fucking life, and are the cause of everything bad in this world.
These moments call for nothing less than melted cheese and bread. You can thank the 1964 World’s Fair held in Flushing Meadows, Queens for the promotion of this Swiss dish at the Switzerland Pavillion! Fondue became an American party obsession in the 60s and 70s. (Think key party swingers only sub the keys for fondue fork tip colors (cheese orgy = gross).
Fondue is best eaten alone when you’re upset in my opinion. It’s messy, and once you take one bite you just want to put your entire face in the pot anyway.
Resentment Waiting to Happen Root Beer Float – Nurse Those Pesky A.M. Resentments with a Classic Diner Drink
Hey you- drivers going 30 mph in the left lane with your midwest license plates: Are you fucking kidding me? You’re holding us commuters up – we have to be at work. On time. It’s 7am, you’re 88. Where are you going? To the unmasked serial cougher in Starbucks: You over there in your tight white jeans and stilettos at 7:15 am. Stop coughing, Jesus! Cover your mouth. Why aren’t you at least covering your mouth? Who are you posing for no-one is looking at you. You’re offending me, heaving and hacking in those heels. And where are you even going anyway? You can’t even walk to the pick up area in those shoes, do you realize you’re wobbling? You need to stop that violent coughing. Please. You’re not even covering your mouth, not even an elbow cough. You’re sick. Go home. Take the shoes off. Let’s go baristas– call her name already. “Skinny half-calf macchiato with 2% cashew milk and light foam with a dust of cinnamon on top. For Fern?”…Of course your name is Fern. Hack. Cough. Blow….. Get out!
No way to start the day. Turn around, go home, put on the comfy pants and chill with a classic root beer float. Remember, your micromanagement of everything is not required and your aggravation at other people is sanctimonious and irrelevant.
When the Only Appropriate Response is Dill Pickle Saltines
When your boss says you’re in serious need of a growth mindset because you said the word can’t instead of yet. When the yellow-eyed Walmart check out clerk who is foaming at the mouth eyes you sideways and asks if you’re okay, then suggests you go light a candle and “manifest” (manifest what?). When you realize you’re too old to reap the rewards of compound interest. When your child tells you that according to research the amygdala is enlarging for the first time in history and that you’re a perfect case study.