Although I was ruminating over a more profound writing topic last night, as is normal, I forgot what it was. (Perhaps my fight on maternity as an imposition with my Dad? Who, by the way, is exemplar proof that you can have an academic, intellectual, cultured individual with the mind-set of a XIV century peasant.) So, as with other aspects of life, when in doubt as to your writing topic, food it is!
Yes, I have a decent BMI and whatnot, but my relationship to food is complex, bla bla. Whatever, I wanted to talk about how food accompanied by travel makes for the best dish in the world.
With all due respect to my daily meals, cafeteria meals and flakes for breakfast are in no way, no how, comparable to the frijoles negros con arroz that I lived on in Brazil, the Turkish candy from, yes, Istambul, or the tihina in Israel.
Yay for exotic food.
My Mom can complain about her eldest's eating habits to her heart's content, but I'm going for the XL portions of bananas fritas con quinoa as many times as necessary to make me sick.