I Can't Get No Satisfaction

One of the things that I abhor most in life is eating something that I do not enjoy.  For someone who takes her food as seriously as I do, why waste the calories on something that doesn't make me swoon with delight?  If I don't like something, I don't eat it.  

Over the past few days, nothing I've eaten has satisfied me.  Nothing.  And I hate that.  I hate it because I love food and I want every little morsel that crosses my lips to send me into a food-induced haze of happiness.  

(Yes, it's weird.  I have a creepily intimate relationship with my food.  Leave me be.  I'm sure you have some idiosyncrasies of your own.)

I may just be in a foodie funk.  It may be period-related - for whatever reason, I think "that time of the month" affects my eating habits.  Maybe its the disgustingly hot weather.  Whatever it is, it needs to end.  I want to feel at peace with my meals again.

Example (plus many a digression):

Yesterday Mama and I went to Short Hills mall - my very favoritest NJ mall (and I consider myself a mall connoisseur).  Despite the fact that I can't afford to shop in approximately 80% of the stores there, it is beautiful and clean and filled with good-looking, wealthy eye candy (call me shallow, I don't even care - when you peoplewatch as much as I do, you want something nice to look at).  

Anyway, one of the main attractions of a trip to Short Hills is not only their absolutely huge and marvelous J.Crew, but also a delicious restaurant called Papa Razzi.  Honestly, I could be content with only their perfectly crunchy breadsticks, rosemary focaccia, and an iced tea, but they might not be too pleased if we ate their complimentary carbs without ordering a meal.  So I ordered the grilled shrimp with sauteed spinach appetizer.  I've had it before and it's delicious.  

A few bites in, and it tasted overwhelmingly salty.  So did the breadsticks.  I didn't even finish my focaccia!  Something was clearly awry.

On the way home we stopped at a little ice cream parlor in Chatham.  I took forever to make up my mind (surprise surprise), tasted at least three different kinds, and then foolishly ordered two scoops of flavors which I had NOT tasted.  FOOL.  I don't know what I was thinking.  Pistachio?  Disgusting.  Swiss Chocolate Fudge.  Horrid.  I took one bite and let it melt into a massive pool in its sad little cup that just about spilleth over onto Mama's leather seats on the way home.  

(Disclaimer:  The quality of the ice cream itself was truly not great, disregarding my out-of-whack tastebuds.  I have been spoiled by years of Polar Cub and Thomas Sweet, and the glorious ice cream experiences I've had there have transformed me into a major ice cream snob)

Conclusion:  I'm not really in the mood to eat anything, and THAT signifies a major problem.  For the sake of all that is good, let's hope that I'm back to my hungry, craving self as soon as humanly possible.