Watch what you eat but not for your health-Rough

If the old sang that you are what you eat is really true, than what you eat can describe you. It could show your beleifs, values, habits, origin, social class, status, attitude, lifestyle, personality, as well as many other details. When I realized this I was schocked with how much information as simple as what someone is eating. That is all you need you don't need to look at them, hear them talk, become their friend, just look at how and what they are eating. Think about some grocery store items like energy bars, coffee, frozen dinners, twinkies. Now picture someone buying these items in your head, what charateristics can you pick out about this item. Do you have any stereo-types about the kind of person that eats that item. Its amazing what attributes you cna pickout by simply focusing on the food. When I think of someone buying an energy bar I think of someone who is in shape, good health, fitness, fast paced lifestyle. Coffee on the other hand is well associated with quick energy early in the morning before going to work(also known as in rush and late for work but “give me my coffee!!!”). Maybe high stress environment and lifestyle, sound familiar yet? Oh and do not try telling me with a straight face that you have never heard anyone say “I can’t live without coffee”. Of course what would America do without twinkies. If you had to create a profile for the person eating this twinkie it might be something along the lines of fat slob, no job, no life, couch potato living off of tax payers money. Yes that’s a little extreme but hey it’s a quick first thought observation right? But don’t forget your frozen dinners. Now let me take a wild stab to if see if I have any similar thoughts. Can’t cook or at least cook anything palatable. Likes things to be quick, simple, and cheap. Is a self proposed microwave chef master. Now then if you are capable of judging and making quick observations like that by simply walking by some else in a grocery store and immediately connecting the food they are about to purchase with these common thoughts or asumptions then you can read their identity, in this case by what they are putting in their mouths. To explain this I will use my own family as examples of this ability of human nature’s.

My step mom Laurie for example has come to love gourmet restaurants. I mean real gourmet restaurants not P.F. Changs or anything like that. Well she would find this addiction in of all places; Disney World in Orlando, Florida. We were there because I had a five day golf tournament there, at a course which happened to be owned by Disney World. Well my dad decided to book a vacation and if you ever had a burger where the burger looks extremely small like you could take it in one bite and swallow it hole, well my golf tournament would be the meat in that burger. We would go to a number of very high class restaurants like ones that Disney Executives went to regularly for lunch. Where the entire meal including all four courses takes from 2 to 4 hours. Where they give you the menu and your immediate reaction is what the ****. As you sit there staring at the menu and saying that you have no idea what half of these words mean. Then you start thinking that menu was written in some foreign language and then translated for you by someone who does not understand the common fools version of english. Where the first item on the menu looks something like “Grilled white breast meat chicken marinated in rosemary $$$$$$ $$$$$ wine with a mixture of seared vegetables surrounded by mashed potatoes whipped to perfection.” Then for the fun of it you try and take a peek at the tab and your Dads’s response while simply grabbing his wallet with no expression on his face says “you don’t want to know”. I have since learned to keep my head down and follow my stomachs lead by enjoying the Cheesecake and if your curious its $45 a slice and both your wallet and your stomach are going to feel it if you get it. Simply watching my step mother looking at the menu in a high class restaurant is tell tale obvious. You can tell she likes it by the way she tries model her mannerisms the same way the high level business people are. Putting her salad fork and butter knife in the same places they do. Yes that actually does mean something in a true high class restaurant. It can mean the difference to the waiter like service and food are great or downright horrible. If you have ever heard the old sang sang “never piss off the guy who is cooking your food”. Well in a restaurant like these something that simple like where you just put your fork on the entrée can mean the difference between you ending up over the toilet tonight and getting desert free. So for her trying to look very professional while cutting her steak is like fighting her stomachs reaction to not let her eye balls get as wide as wiley coyote watching the road runner. Rather then every other business person here who appears to be an emotionless robot.

As for my dad I would strongly suggest not watching what he eats but how he eats. My dad is a Vietnam war veteran. Yes his dietary habits now, started in the navy. Coming out of high school my dad was not going to college. Not to make matters worse my dad’s draft number was 3. So for him it quickly became a matter of enlist of and choose where to go and what to do or be drafted and have the military choose for you. So he enlisted in the navy and would go on to become a MedaVac flight medic. Since they were constantly on going rescuing fellow soldiers they had to be ready to go in a moments notice. Therefore he obtained a habit of eating everything he could at one point in time because that might be his last chance to eat for the rest of the day. According to him he would get about one large meal a day usually would not eat again for another 27 hours or so. By large meal though I mean take breakfast, dinner, and small snack size proportions for a 20 year old 6 foot 4 and two hundred and ten pound guy. Though that’s one meal, even my stomach feels a little sick thinking about all of that food at once. But then again I guess you learn to deal with it. Today though my dad does not eat quite that much specifically at once thank god.

Then there is my brother Michael. If he could take a pill that has all the nutrients, proteins and such that you need to stay alive. He would buy out the store. Michael is a computer freak an IT guy so to speak. There is a reason why he works at best buy on the geek squad. Its actually quite amazing because he can pull that horrible look off. Michael will eat anything he can swallow quickly and easily to get back to one thing his computer. Micheal loves the quick, and simple meals aka Stouffers, Marie Calenders, Hungry Man, Lean Cusine. Surprisingly he actually has the time need to cook each entrée made by Stouffers memorized. All to allow him to get back to his computer. Im starting to think we need to find a way to feed the computer and then it can somehow feed him. Then he would not have to drag his geek butt down the stairs to use the microwave.

Maybe you knew or where the kid growing up that could not have each food item touch any other. That is my step sister Rachel, today at 17 years old. Rachel truly does not care what she is eating. In her words “its all about the presentation”. She is like the suburban Midwest Jersey Shore all in one package. She will only eat if it looks good. Virtually my opposite in that sense. So if want to know how good you really are at cooking just ask her. She will tell you.

For me though well I have earned the reputation in my family of being a human garbage disposal. To me I truly do not care what I am eating. I have sort of the mix of eating habits and or abilities if want you to put it that way of everyone in my family. Like Laurie I love gourmet food come on who doesn’t. Like my dad I can eat quite a staggering amount in a short time. Similar to Michael I eat very quickly though I did not use to be. Though I always eat more at nicer restaurants than cheaper ones. In Rachel’s words “it’s all about the presentation” therefore why I eat more. Though what I hold different is my outerspace high level metabolism. As a matter of fact my doctor nearly gave me a drug to slow my metabolism rate down so my body would absorb more food. Well I didn’t get the drug though because apparently there were two components of the drug which were also used in performance enhancing drugs. At that time I was on my high school boys golf team in my freshman year playing varsity and after six tournaments I was number two on the team. So I was not exactly in a position to take anything that could be seen as performance enhancing afterall not many freshman golfers start their high school golf career on varsity. So I would continue all through high school and not gain any real weight. For example I started my freshman year at 5’8” and 140. I would exit as a Senior being 6’2” and 150.

When I look at each person in my family I can see how what they are eating as well as how they can have a major impression as to who they are. Before this i did not really understand how good much what your eating or what someone else is eating can have such a big effect on them. Now if you will excuse me the 12 ounce steak I had apparently has only made me more hungry so I need to find something to eat. Remember watch what you eat, not for our health but for someone else’s judgment of you.

Mix It up

In college it seems that food is the last priority when it comes to budgeting living expenses; behind tuition, books, rent, and entertainment, food is the least of our concerns. On Average you could say the typical American college student’s diet consist of, fast food, microwavable meals, and a lot of soda and beer. More like steroid pumped beef, ridicules amounts of unwanted calories, and high fructose corn syrup.   

When I was in 6^th graded I developed an interest in cooking. Over the last nine years I have gained a worthy skill. As I matured I began to think about health and how one’s diet has a direct connection to their health. It became clear to me we all had been poisoning our bodies with some artificial substance we called “food”. I couldn’t remain to be victim of this vicious cycle so I had to change my eating habits; I now try to raise awareness with information and offer alternative meal ideas. 

A simple recipe is my very own infamous chunky salsa. It’s not a meal but it’s a great snack and can easily be a side dish or give any other meal that tasteful kick. It’s a great recipe because it’s not too time consuming and it’s relatively inexpensive. The recipe calls for tomato, yellow bell pepper, white onion, jalapeno, cilantro, and lime. For starters I like to begin with cutting up the tomatoes because their like the foundation of the salsa. After cutting up the tomatoes this will now set up to cut the onion. Since this isn’t a formal recipe you have to be the judge when adding the ingredients together. Onion has a strong flavor and some maybe sensitive to its taste so be careful when adding and remember you can always add more but you can’t take it out. After you have the tomatoes and onion cut you can continue to chop the rest of the ingredients in any order you choose and be mindful of the ratio. As you experiment and become more familiar with the recipe you can tweak it for your own taste. Just add chips and you have a game day salsa for the guys or toss it in a quesadilla for a gourmet taste. The cost is about eight dollars and that includes all the ingredients and a bag of tortilla chips. 

When it comes to eating right there is a lot of deceit and misconception from these large corporations. They use terms like “natural” or “pure” on labels and packages, but I ask how is something natural if its full or preservatives or frozen and needs to be cooked in the microwave for two and a half minutes on high? Doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose of eating well? People don’t realize that the best thing to eat comes from the earth not some large-scale factory. Fruits and vegetables will give you more sustainable energy throughout the day compared to an energy drink that claims to have the right mixture of vitamins. I challenge you to just be more aware of what you eat and ask you self where did this come from? Or how was it prepared? If your perfectly content with your answer and your food than there is no reason to change your ways, but if you don’t like the images or thoughts than make you should come up with your very own homemade recipes. 

Rough Draft

As a college student you all probably know it’s hard to eat well on a tight budget. Typically a college student’s diet consists of easy mac, top ramen, and anything off the dollar menu.  What if i told you that you could eat healthy without the high cost? I have always been interested in cooking and making tasty foods so i have developed and created some inexpensive meals and snacks. I want to share with you today one of my favorite recipes. It’s my infamous chunky salsa; i got the idea to make this one day when i was eating at chipotle. As i was eating the salsa i couldn't help but think to myself that this was the best salsa I've ever had. With each bite i took it was like and explosion of flavor in my mouth. As i stared into the tiny see through plastic cup containing the salsa i began to dissect what was in the cup. This is how i determined what ingredients to use. After figuring out the basics i was able to make the foundation of my salsa with plenty of room to experiment with other ingredients. 

For starters you need to decide how much salsa you need to make based on how many people you want to feed but to keep it simple we'll just assume it's only for two to three people. The recipe calls for about three to four tomatoes, one onion of your choice,(red, yellow, or white; I prefer white) yellow bell pepper, one jalapeño or if you like hot two, a branch of cilantro, and two limes. Now this is what i like keep in mind that you can customize the ingredients to your personal liking. Start with cutting up the tomatoes because it will tell you how much of everything else you will need. Second you will need to dice the onions until their finely chopped you will have to just your best judgment to determine was a good tomato to onion ratio for you. Always remember you can always add but you can’t take away, so start with a little and slowly add more as needed. At this point it’s just chopping up the rest of the ingredients and adding them together. With the limes you will want to cut in half and squeeze the juice into the salsa bowl and stir all of it together. This will leave you with your final product. This can be eaten with chips but it can also be used to kick up any meal. For all of the ingredients it usually cost about 5 to 8 bucks depending on where you go and how much you buy. Well now that you understand the basics you can make and create your very own salsa.

Sphaghetti A la Dad Final copy

Saturday, to most people it means the weekend, no school, no work, and most of all time to relax; while these are exciting things about Saturday, the thing I look forward to the most is my Dad coming over to make food for my family. My Dad is a native born Italian and before my grandma died she left him a whole book of recipes that he loves to make for his family. One delicious recipe in particular is his Bologonese spaghetti. To make this tasty treat you would need 2 full carrots, half an onion, half a stalk of celery, 1/4th of a fresh garlic bulb, any kind of meat, 1 can of tomato sauce, a cup of heavy whipping cream, two packages of spaghetti, and most important, the olive oil.

When my Dad starts off this recipe he’ll dice all the vegetables, the carrots, the onion, the celery, and the garlic, and let them simmer in the olive oil for 20 minutes. This really brings out the flavor of the vegetables and gives it a good base for the tomato sauce and cream. Then, after twenty minutes or until the vegetables start to get slightly brown he will add the tomato sauce. At this point he'll start cooking the rest of the parts of the meal. First, he'll put a pot of water on to boil so he can cook the pasta. Then, he'll put another pan with an olive oil base. At this point it gets a little complicated because you have to watch three different things at once, but as my dad says, “ Non temere!” Meaning no worries, he keeps track of the times of the three pots on his watch, and doesn‘t leave his cooking area so there is no chance of the three different pans burning. First, with the pasta pot he just lets it boil then puts the pasta in for twenty minutes or until its soft enough to eat. Then, with the meat my Dad cooks it until its done (this is completely dependent on what kind of meat you are using pork, sausage, beef.... etc.) Lastly, for the sauce your going to let it cook for an hour letting the tomato sauce and vegetables get nicely cooked, and at the end of the hour put your meat and the cup of heavy whipping cream in. Let this simmer on low for twenty minutes, drain the pasta, and eat well, or Buon Appetito!


Food Blog Final Zack Stout

Food, to me, is not a meal right in front of me. It's the result of labor over raw resource, logistics of moving that resource, industry to meet demand of consumers, massive, always in need to make more faster. It's a system economically natural, choosing better ways to better the source and improve cultivation.

I'm what a lot of people might refer to as a food snob. In other words I'm someone who tries to keep the meals I eat to contain real pieces. Understand, that if this system is to keep up with demand, specifically the American demand and all our culture incentives in it, food must be made faster, cheaper. There are many ways of doing so, such as feeding cattle a diet of corn, a cheaper and more easily renewable crop that would require physical adjustments to the bodies of cows for them to accommodate it, as well as replacing sugar, a labor intensive and expensive luxury by artificial substances such as aspartame and the famous high fructose corn syrup.

Another thing about the food I eat is none of it is cut off of animals. I'm a proud vegetarian, been one for about 12 years now. I'm not someone who would preach about such things to people when they don't ask, because I believe we are all free to choose. You would find it humorous to learn that I work in a grocery store deli, where I practice abstinence by cutting up meat and preparing it but not eating it.

One of the most challenging things about this dilemma is what to tell costumers when they come up and ask me what I think about the "Pesto Parmesan Ham," or the "Head Cheese". Usually when they ask I have a straight answer.

"I've never had it, but it sells like crazy." I would say, offering them a sample to try it for themselves, avoiding them asking me why I've never tried it. One time someone asked me about the Blazing Buffalo chicken, asking if it was overwhelmingly spicy, when I told them I couldn't say because I don't eat meat.

"You don't eat meat but you cut it?" He asked, grinning. Of course the irony here is a little ridiculous, a tad awkward for me as well, and with my coworkers watching I just told the dude the truth.

"Money talks." I said. And it's true. Before I got this job in the deli, I put applications into countless places needing money bad, so when this one came up it was a blessing, even if it meant selling out my beliefs for cash.

In the time I've worked in the Ol' Boar's Head deli, I've acquired more knowledge about meat then any vegetarian should possess. I know the best temperature to serve a rotisserie chicken to be around 165 degrees because that temperature keeps the bird safe to eat as well as not too over done, I also know one of the best sources of red meat you can eat is roast beef because of its minimal salt content, I know how to operate a deli slicer (Bizerba is best) and a meat grinder, I can skewer chickens faster than anyone I work with, and can scrub baked fat, skin, blood and grease from the rotisserie at the end of the day faster and more thoroughly than my supervisor.

It's strange, how this evil distribution hub of dismembered decorated animal carcasses has become somewhat of a passion of mine. I take great pride where I work (Sunflower Farmers Market), rolling slices of meat in a neat organized manner before I package it for customers, going beyond the to do list and cleaning ceiling tiles and scrubbing behind grills, underneath tables and whatever other job I can spot. I try hard to be an over achiever, showing up fifteen minutes early every day to hopefully only move up in the place and also put me under this umbrella of protection if I were to screw up.

Why would this vegetarian, affiliated with a group of people who would either hate me for what I do or want to blow up my workplace altogether, be in such a position and not be pressured to either quit for the sake of integrity or just "give in" and start eating meat altogether? Usually I just take these questions and hide them somewhere where I won't find them again. The fact is, I enjoy being vegetarian. I know if I really start questioning it I would contract myself, and eventually lose touch with what it means to me. There's a feeling of cleanliness about eating vegetables nuts and beans, and I choose to hang on to this feeling as long as I can. And besides, despite enjoying my job, sometimes it disgusts me, and ultimately it fortifies everything I believe in.

One time the light in our walk in refrigerator was off, and I had to walk into the back to retrieve a flavor a turkey for an anxious customer. In the back is our meat wall, where everything ranging from high priced Italian meats like Prosciutto De Parma to garlic bologna, to hams to chickens, to turkeys, to beef, all wrapped in plastic and sporting fancy labels and the Boar's Head Brand name. I've seen this wall countless times, but with the light off and nothing but my key ring flashlight to illuminate the scene, I saw something different, baleful and ominous. The darkness made this image of meat food products not food products anymore, but these mechanically rendered and adjusted pieces of them, unrecognizable as being once living animals, but now the decorated, cooked, ritually aesthetic shelf products labeled by flavor and expiration date. With the dark hue all around and my light reflecting off the plastic, I grabbed the one boasting "Honey Maple Oven Roasted Breast of Turkey" in gold font, took it up front and asked if she wanted it thick medium or shaved, ignoring the feeling of cold guilt and agonizing cruelty crawling up and down my mind as I sliced it.

The first job I do when I get there is fill the rotisserie. Each box comes with twenty chickens, skin attached, feet removed, innards gone, sometimes spine exposed. When you open the box, the chickens are air tight in a large blue plastic bag submerged in what looks like cold watered down pale pink blood. I take each one, one by one, and skewer them on the four foot long rotisserie steak, butt first, until I have five on each steak, forty all together. The first time I did this was incredibly difficult. It was vile and unnatural to me, I felt the cold creep into my body through my gloves as bones cracked while I pushed them into the steak.

I love hard work. I love hard, messy work that leaves me feeling a little messed up at the end. I never would have thought it but this job changed my life in good way, a way that brought me together with the ugliness I protest, and the work that put it here. I've found that integrity isn't always staying grounded in what you believe, but doing what you need to do to live, even if it's very difficult. As someone put it, I'm going to vegetarian hell, that's for sure. But making a living in the furnace of one of the dominant things in this world I find to be evil, I've become in tune to what it means to be alive, that death is natural, that coping is possible, and all the ugliness in this world keeps what I believe in beautiful.

Food Blog Draft Zack Stout

Food, to me, is not a meal right in front of me. It's the result of labor over raw resource, logistics of moving that resource, industry to meet demand of consumers, massive, always in need to make more faster. It's a system economically natural, choosing better ways to better the source and improve cultivation.

I'm what a lot of people might refer to as a food snob. In other words I'm someone who tries to keep the meals I eat to contain real pieces. Understand, that if this system is to keep up with demand, specifically the American demand and all our culture incentives in it, food must be made faster, cheaper. There are many ways of doing so, such as feeding cattle a diet of corn, a cheaper and more easily renewable crop that would require physical adjustments to the bodies of cows for them to accommodate it, as well as replacing sugar, a labor intensive and expensive luxury by artificial substances such as aspartame and the famous high fructose corn syrup.

Another thing about the food I eat is none of it is cut off of animals. I'm a proud vegetarian, been one for about 12 years now. I'm not someone who would preach about such things to people when they don't ask, because I believe we are all free to choose. You would find it humorous to learn that I work in a grocery store deli, where I practice abstinence by cutting up meat and preparing it but not eating it.

One of the most challenging things about this dilemma is what to tell costumers when they come up and ask me what I think about the "Pesto Parmesan Ham," or the "Head Cheese". Usually when they ask I have a straight answer.

"I've never had it, but it sells like crazy." I would say, offering them a sample to try it for themselves, avoiding them asking me why I've never tried it. One time someone asked me about the Blazing Buffalo chicken, asking if it was overwhelmingly spicy, when I told them I couldn't say because I don't eat meat.

"You don't eat meat but you cut it?" He asked, grinning. Of course the irony here is a little ridiculous, a tad awkward for me as well, and with my coworkers watching I just told the dude the truth.

"Money talks." I said. And it's true. Before I got this job in the deli, I put applications into countless places needing money bad, so when this one came up it was a blessing, even if it meant selling out my beliefs for cash.

In the time I've worked in the Ol' Boar's Head deli, I've acquired more knowledge about meat then any vegetarian should possess. I know the best temperate to serve a rotisserie chicken to be around 165 degrees because that temperature keeps the bird safe to eat as well as not too over done, I also know one of the best sources of red meat you can eat is roast beef because of its minimal salt content, I know how to operate a deli slicer (Bizerba is best) and a meat grinder, I can skewer chickens faster than anyone I work with, and can scrub baked fat, skin, blood and grease from the rotisserie at the end of the day faster and more thoroughly than my supervisor.

It's strange, how this evil distribution hub of dismembered decorated animal carcasses has become somewhat of a passion of mine. I take great pride where I work (Sunflower Farmers Market), rolling slices of meat in a neat organized manner before I package it for customers, going beyond the to do list and cleaning ceiling tiles and scrubbing behind grills, underneath tables and whatever other job I can spot. I try hard to be an over achiever, showing up fifteen minutes early every day to hopefully only move up in the place but also put me under this umbrella of protection if I were to screw up.

Why would this vegetarian, affiliated with a group of people who would either hate me for what I do or want to blow up my workplace altogether, be in such a position and not be pressured to either quit for the sake of integrity or just "give in" and start eating meat altogether? Usually I just take these questions and hide them somewhere where I won't find them again. The fact is, I enjoy being vegetarian. I know if I really start questioning it I would contract myself, and eventually lose touch with what it means to me. There's a feeling of cleanliness about eating vegetables nuts and beans, and I choose to hang on to this feeling as long as I can. And besides, despite enjoying my job, sometimes it disgusts me, and ultimately it fortifies everything I believe in.

One time the light in our walk in refrigerator was off, and I had to walk into the back to retrieve a flavor a turkey for an anxious customer. In the back is our meat wall, where everything ranging from high priced Italian meats like Prosciutto De Parma to garlic bologna, to hams to chickens, to turkeys, to beef, all wrapped in plastic and sporting fancy labels and the Boar's Head Brand name. I've seen this wall countless times, but with the light off and nothing but my key ring flashlight to illuminate the scene, I saw something different, baleful and ominous. The darkness made this image of meat food products not food products anymore, but these mechanically rendered and adjusted pieces of them, unrecognizable as being once living animals, but now the decorated, cooked, ritually aesthetic shelf products labeled by flavor and expiration date. With the dark hue all around and my light reflecting off the plastic, I grabbed the one boasting "Honey Maple Oven Roasted Breast of Turkey" in gold font, took it up front and asked if she wanted it thick medium or shaved, ignoring the feeling of cold guilt and agonizing cruelty crawling up and down my mind as I sliced it.

The first job I do when I get there is fill the rotisserie. Each box comes with twenty chickens, skin attached, feet removed, innards gone, sometimes the spine is exposed. When you open the box, the chickens are air tight in a large blue plastic bag submerged in what looks like cold watered down pale pink blood. I take each one, one by one, and skewer them on the four foot long rotisserie steak, butt first, until I have five on each steak, forty all together. The first time I did this was incredibly difficult. It was vile and unnatural to me, I felt the cold creep into my body through my gloves as bones cracked while I pushed them into the steak.

I love hard work. I love hard, messy work that leaves me feeling a little messed up at the end. I never would have thought it but this job changed my life in good way, a way that brought me together with the ugliness I protest, and the work that put it here. I've found that integrity isn't always staying grounded in what you believe, but doing what you need to do to live, even if it's very difficult. As someone put it, I'm going to vegetarian hell, that's for sure. But making a living in the furnace of one of the dominant things in this world I find to be evil, I've become in tune to what it means to be alive, that death is natural, that coping is possible, and all the ugliness in this world keeps what I believe in beautiful.

Don't look in the fridge

I opened the fridge and was horrified at what I saw lurking inside. A box full of strawberries had peculiarly grown a grey fur coat. Further inspection revealed that most of the food inside was over a year expired. That was the last time I ever opened that fridge. My parents had abandoned me at my grandma's house and it would be another week before I would be safe from food poisoning.

My grandma has never been one to throw away food(I use the term food generously). The expiration dates are just a suggestion and the best by dates mean the food is good indefinitely. From the burlap sack full of liquefied onions in her closet to the box full of fuzzy strawberries in her fridge, there is nothing in her house I feel safe eating.

Going to her house is an assault on the senses. Just opening the door unleashes a vomit inducing smell. It is as if death itself resides inside, as the smell past the door is almost unbearable. The sight of the food in her fridge would make even a starving person think twice before eating it. Without a cast-iron stomach, completely unresponsive taste buds, and no sense of smell most of her food is completely uneatable. Even looking at the food is unpleasant.

Her 3 refrigerators are all bursting at the seams. Although most of the objects in her fridge are unidentifiable, (I can't tell the chocolate pudding from the T-bone steak) she is very efficient at packing as much of it as possible into her fridges. It doesn't help that she buys more food every time there is a sale.

When she travels it is even worse. Her car has earned the nickname "traveling compost heap". This is sadly not far from the truth. Her idea of keeping food fresh involves wrapping her perishable food in newspaper and leaving it in the back seat of her car. A good portion of this food is spoiled to start with and leaving it out doesn't help.

I have lost count of the number of times I have become ill as a result of eating at her house. I was naive enough as a child to keep eating more of her food after my first illness. I have since learned to avoid it entirely.