Comfort Food

I am a feminist who uses the phrase, "It's the titties", more often than not when I am referring to certain visceral pleasures in my life. Typically food. For when it comes to certain gastric indulgences, I can honestly say that sometimes there's a fine line in that part of my animal brain, where my senses are able distinguish the difference between food and sex. I'm Italian. Food is love. Simply, it's in my skin.

Recently, I was browsing through Whole Foods (which I otherwise refer to as "Whole Paycheck"), as I do from time to time when I feel like spending more money than I can actually spare. I came across this little sample display of mozzarella cheese in a pesto sauce. Usually, I don't sample food in public settings. This is only because as much as I love food, I am equally germ-phobic...so, no. I don't ever touch my face in public, let alone sample from public offerings at holiday time. Typically, a big N-O for me. However, this time, it wasn't so easy to resist. "Mmmm, pesto," I thought, when the display caught my eye. I had already been suckered in by the fresh mozarella in the cheese isle. I figured I'd get some fresh pressed olive oil, basil and tomato and make a couple of salads this week. I guess my Mediterranean insides were already churning. For what it's worth, everyone has a comfort food. For me, if I'm feeling a little down, I don't really need chocolate, but if you have some fresh olives and/or spanikopita lying around, you'll have me at hello. It doesn't take much really. Everyone says that Italian women are so complex. Bah. I'm such a simple animal.

Ahhh, the pesto and formaggio. I tried to ignore it, but it called to me...spiritually...it said, "Come little sorella, eat the food of your foremothers, it will nourish your dry winter skin and give you color". Hmmmmm....color...mmmm...the pesto was such a pretty color green. And so, after much deliberation, I decided that one piece from the free sample tray would not kill me. I tried to pick the most innocuous looking piece with my little sample toothpick. The simple combo of the pesto sauce and the fresh mozarrella was goddamn genius. It was an oral explosion. I almost wept it was so delicious. And, so I decided right then and there that, yes, I am not only a sucker consumer, but I was about to purchase $10 worth of mozarella cheese and a local product from Maryland called, "Mama's Pesto".

It has filled be with abundant pleasure.

And whoever Mama is...I want to make sweet, dirty love to this woman...