Eating has become... difficult.

.

.

No, not chewing.  More being motivated enough to go cook.  I get hungry, sometimes, sort of.  I want food.  I love the idea of food.  I can taste food, more acutely than ever.  My taste buds have matured to a point where raw kefir tastes sweet, or has a sweetness to or in it.  Raw berries can be enjoyed, sometimes... though a little keto sweetener is good from time to time too.

The flavors and textures of food are better defined in my mind that ever in my life.  A pate, versus a mousse, versus a cooked liver are as plainly different to me as an ice cream to a sorbet, a mild lemon versus lime, an apple cider vinegar to a white or wine vinegar.  I am not a virtuoso in the kitchen.  But I can put a reasonable meal together.

Meats to fish, root vegetables to greens, sprouting grasses to grains, fermentation to dehydrating, and learning as I go.  Not just for taste, if that is part of the aim, I too have become a minor nutritionist.  I am learning to balance macros, calories, flavors, various foods, and products to tend as well as sustain my flesh.  I do passing well, at least in theory.  My body and it's limits provide limits.  As well, reality.  No one can do everything.  A woman to cover my weaknesses, or add to my strengths, would surely help.  Even then, limits... just fewer of them.

Still, after all the learning, practice, obtaining of tools, collecting of special foods, deciphering of recipes, experience with my own body and with the various concoctions, chemical reactions, solutions, and else... I... find myself rarely hungry!  I have to push to eat.  Oh, if I want to eat?  I can.  Certain foods will drive me to near... even into... gluttony.  Carbs are what alcohol used to be.  A rare delight which drove me deeper into itself, until I burned out.  Then a wait until next time.

If I go too long without eating enough, a switch turns on.  My body commands that I eat.  My will is broken, and I will make a pan of beans, if usually adding burger and cheese.  A loaf of bread, or two, to eat with it.  And, often, I will make enough for a day or two of eats.  Much as with spaghetti and meat sauce recently.  So?  So I do my damnedest to keep ahead of that killswitch.  Which... means... I need to get food.  I need to eat a lot of food, soon.  Nuts only go so far, but they help.  Soufflés will do well, but the little baking dishes are gone.  I used to have half a dozen to a score.  Gone.  I have one remaining.  Not happy about that.  I have glass ramekins, but they don't do so well, shaped like an ice cream cone, so they push up even more... too much more for a safe, easy, right rise.  Ugh.  Still... I better get on it before I dive into carbs.

Someone seems to... almost know... when... I am hungry.  Mind you, this is the lessor of many hungers I have... moved away from.  Tobacco, booze, women...  Still, it...  At least I am a well known quitter.  *wink*  I'll... get there, sooner or later, as possible.  The last of my carnals?  Mostly... in... a way.  There is another, but that struggle, I think, is eternal.  A cursed gift, for now.  Not to be released until death or marriage.  I'm pulling for death.  :P

Hunger.  In ways you cannot understand.  Always.  I have to live on a balance, or die out of balance.  Food, and those things mentioned, aren't the only hungers I know.  Abstain?  No... just... keep the hungers in their right place, in an ordered fashion.  Violence, only when truly required, and to the point necessary.  Until the days of darkness.  Though, I suspect, even then... when God sounds the trumpet, hounds must return or follow to hell.  Lost in their... hungers.  There is a pack of God's hounds, not just one.

Amen.