I wish I could say I wasn't always like this. But I think I was a foodaholic from the get-go. While I may not have had an adventurous palate as a child (I wouldn't even eat pasta with sauce on it!), I had a ferocious appetite for sweets. I recall eating seven Oreos in one sitting and wishing for just one more, or licking my finished bowl of ice cream imagining another scoop before me. Sometimes, I simply couldn't control myself at all. Once, during a movie, I polished off a whole king-sized box of Goldberg's Peanut Chews within an hour and slowly regretted it afterwards. As my father comforted me and my overburdened stomach by the toilet bowl, he coined a nickname that's haunted me for years: Orson Welles, as in the severely overweight actor/director who also had a mammoth appetite.
I know my father was only joking, and I have no hard feelings whatsoever. My peanut chew overdose, however, was my true initiation into the pantheon of overeaters, much like a heroin addict's first overdose. Since then, my weight, eating habits and attitude towards food have yo-yoed almost weekly. I recall several breakfasts of chocolate bars, as well as days of almost constant dietary vigilance, with each food eaten benefiting me nutritionally. Still, I have yet to discover how to eat just enough to satisfy my cravings and not overeat.
The summer of my 16th year, I thought I had it all figured out: just eliminate all the sweets and fatty foods from your life, and eat properly balanced meals featuring fruit, vegetables, protein and grains (the low-carb craze wasn't big back then). I followed this simple idea for two months and magically lost 30 pounds. As the novelty of thinness wore off, however, I began to crave desserts with a vengeance. Before I knew it, I was stuffing down greater quantities of sweets than ever before, and purging them to stay trim. That junior year of high school was a new turning point in my eating habits. My overindulgent appetite had gone from a little overeating to bulimia. But that is a whole other complicated story. I think it's sufficient to say that I had an eating problem and it was fixed, through therapists, medication, a nutritionist and a determined, positive outlook.
Five years later, my bulimic habits are firmly entrenched in the past. Yet, I'm still eating too much one day, trying to eat healthy the next and failing to discover what the words hunger and fullness mean. Studies show that infants instinctively know how much of and what kind of food their bodies need. I guess my natural instincts were lost long ago. Why do I eat more than I should? Why does a typical healthy meal plan fail to satisfy my cravings?
Perhaps I don't eat for physical sustenance, but in order to fulfill some other need I don't know how to satisfy. A great meal, for me, is not just a remedy for hunger, but a recipe for pleasure, exploration and even love. While I'm not sure what keeps my appetite unfulfilled, I continue to search for the root of my hunger and longing. By obsessing over food, wine, eating rituals, cooking and restaurants, I continue to explore how the "art of eating" affects my life and those of my readers. For out of my insatiable appetite comes "The Flaming Chef," the food column I have written weekly for almost two years at Vassar College and now here.
My eating habits, as well everyone else's, are unique. But human hunger (both physical and mental) is universal. That is why I love writing and exploring the world of cuisine-it's a topic we can all relate to, enjoy and even bond over. Though I struggle to placate my own hunger, I am grateful that it drives me to share my own experiences in the world of food each week, through this column.