A confession

I am a picky eater. There are those pickier, but they're few and far inbetween.

You see, like a spoiled five-year-old, I don't like vegetables. And some fruit. Oh, and seafood.

Not all vegetables, mind you. My favorite dish is spinach in mash with sausages--and the sausages are entirely optional. It's easy and quick to make and tastes delicious. And I can occasionally be seen crunching my way through a carrot or two.

Even seafood has some exceptions. I won't eat shellfish or invertebrates, partly because they get advertised as 'bugs of the ocean' (and while I'm over that particular phobia, I'm not that far over it) and partly because I have a firm belief that just because it had eyes, legs and/or innards, I don't want those parts on my plate. This is not just for seafood--I don't eat paté, either.

But some fish, if prepared right, are allowed to sneak their way into my diet. Norwegian fiskeboller and my mom's baked tilapia are delicious. But things like salmon, while marginally more tasty when fresh and local, make me want to heave.

I have only found one explanation for this. I'm one of those people who has a certain gene that make a certain chemical compound have a flavor. This particular flavor is bitterness. Handy if you're a caveman trying to avoid poisoning, hell if you're seven and you're not allowed to leave the table until you clear your plate. I used to be the queen of sitting behind a plate of cold food and pouting.

When I lived in Norway, it was easy to be healthy. Healthy was cheap, unhealthy was expensive. There was no deep-fryer or microwave in the house. The freezer brimmed with delicious things like summer berries and elk meat. Ingredients for my baking were fresh and yummy. The only guilty pleasure was christmas pop and gingerbread, and the holidays can only last for so long.

Then I came home and I had someone who shopped for grocieries whilst torn between eating healthy and pleasing their offspring. There was fruit, yes, but also chocolate, cookies, cake and ice cream. No one below thirty will spend the evening hulling strawberries when there's chocolate ice cream in the freezer unless conditioned to do so. And I was back in Belgium, so there were big family get togethers, with pie and cake and holiday dinners with seven courses. Needless to say, I put on a few pounds.

Subsequently, I went to live in a university dorm and became a cliché. Cooking was hard, the kitchen was far away, fresh produce and homecooked meals were few and far inbetween.

But I'm trying to improve. I'm snooping through vegan recipes in an attempt to find ways to make green, horrorible nutricious, vitamin-laden veggies taste good. Vegan pudding and nut butters have caught my attention and are on my 'to try' list. I bought a blender, in which I can make delicious smoothies that fill my tummy. I have resolutions to try and cook more often after I move. In the mean while, it's summer and all my favorite fruit is in season and the only guilty pleasure in the house at the moment is nutella--the lowest calorie chocolate spread that still tastes like chocolate spread.