When I’m not hungry, I don’t cook. And even when I am hungry, I don’t cook what I’m not hungry for. Make sense? It leads me to believe that those of us who love to cook and think and talk and write about food tend to be the hungrier ones, the ones with Appetites. Maybe I’m wrong, but I’d bet not.
I bring this up because I’ve had a somewhat diminished appetite the last week or so (the pendulum swings…) and I’m finding it so hard to figure out what the heck to make for dinner! I totally plan from hankerings, and without hankerings… It’s much more of a chore, blah. I would be very sad indeed if my appetite just disappeared.
So tonight we had one of those I-don’t-feel-like-cooking dinners, where I pick up a rotisserie chicken, and grill some pita bread, and set out olive spread and tsatsiki from the deli, and make a big Greek salad (romaine, kalamata olives, crumbled feta, tomatoes, onions, fresh dill), and we each put it all together in various ways – chicken in the salad or salad in the warm pita or olive spread on the chicken or pita… You get the picture. Fills the hole and tastes pretty damn good to boot. NICE!