“Food is the most primitive form of comfort.” — Sheilah Graham
Last weekend at a Super Bowl party, I had wings, chips, salsa, meatballs, cheese and crackers, two brownies, and a slice of pizza. Usually, that combination would never be on my plate, but once a year, who cares, right? If a recipe involves something covered in ranch dip, I’d try a bite.
We sometimes call food like french fries, burgers, and gooey desserts “junk food;” while it may be true that it’s not healthy food, is it really junk? Junk is something we throw out that has no value left and isn’t worth having around for any reason. Who could say that about an ice cream cone or a bag of taco chips? That cookie and cream sundae started with farm-fresh milk and organic sugar; why is that junky? Taco chips usually contain wheat or corn. They go well with tomato salsa, made from fresh veggies that grow on farms and feed a nation. Isn’t it almost our patriotic duty to have some nachos now and then?
Food can be comforting, but it can be a minefield as well. Everyone has an opinion on which food is good or bad. That’s what I’ve never understood. Food is only “bad” in my house if I don’t like it, or I forgot to cook it, and now it’s growing hair. Food is food; whether it’s a nutrient-dense salad or a corn dog on a stick, it’s still food. No food can commit a crime, so nothing should be considered a “guilty pleasure.”
Some people think food is medicine, and it can be. I need soup whenever I feel like I’m coming down with something. Not homemade soup—the store-bought boxed soup that comes in the envelopes, with the dried-up little pieces of what I hope is chicken. It’s just as magical as something that had to sit on the stove and simmer for an hour.
Sure, there are better quality soups that don’t have a cup of salt in every bowl and use vegetables and organic broth, but that’s not what I want. It makes me feel better, not because of what’s in it but because it’s familiar and comforting. Also, not everyone is looking to heal the flu or a headache. What if you’re just cranky? We all have a favorite snack or meal we reach for when that happens. I recently made a batch of chocolate chip cookies. It was a rich recipe, and I used the expensive Irish butter and the gourmet brand of chocolate chips. They were delicious, with a tall glass of whole milk, including all the fat allowed by law. Some would still say, however, “Oh, don’t eat something junky when you’re feeling down; it won’t help.”
Ya, shut up and have a cookie, will you?
Being a child of the sixties, I’ve seen how much food has changed. My lunch box usually had a plastic barrel-shaped container of what I called juice, but it was probably sugar, water, and chemical dye. Next to that was a baloney sandwich, and let’s face it, no one knows what’s in a baloney sandwich, but it’s not organic meat on whole grain bread, topped with kale and artisanal vegan mustard. There were no carrot sticks or cucumber slices cut out in the shape of a heart, either. I got cheap chips from a big bucket that had to be scooped into a baggy. My mother was all about balance, so dessert was anything from a tin can full of butterscotch pudding with a pop-top lid that could be considered a deadly weapon to a foil-wrapped Ring Ding or, if it was a good day, a Twinkie.
The other day, for the first time in about 25 years, I had a Twinkie, and it was glorious. It was way smaller than I remember, but that same first gooey bite was so satisfying. Food can transport us to another time, so for just a minute or two, I was a happy kid with a treat. Another treat was a hot lunch day. If it was a Friday and they were serving pizza, my mom would let me buy it, and some weeks, that doughy square of pizza was the highlight of the week.
We need to stop judging certain kinds of food. If you feel like popping open a can of Spagetti-Os, go for it. If you think six Oreos, a bag of pretzels, and a Diet Coke will perk you up after a tough day at work, then have at it. Is having a lot of that kind of food bad for your health? Yes. Is it fun to be bad once in a while? Also yes. Bon Appetit, and save a Twinkie for me.
Brenda Kelley Kim has lived in Marblehead for 50 years and is an author, freelance writer, and mother of three. Her column appears weekly.
