My mom just mentioned in an email that she was going to grill a steak tonight, and everything inside me was ignited with longing. I literally just wiped a tear from my eye.
Our food at the seminary reminds me that I still have a long road to hoe in terms of cultural adjustment. I find it an unfortunate combination of no vegetables, scary meat, and a big pile of rice and potatoes. I usually eat some of the rice (the added oil gets to me), all of the potatoes, and maybe a bite or two of the meat.
I honestly never considered myself a picky eater, but meat (well, food) here is a whole new deal. The no-vegetables part is becoming an issue. You may remember that I am a mostly vegetarian cook, and green is definitely my favorite color these days.
Judging from that tear, I would say my nutrition is suffering.
We're home for the weekend but so busy and tired that I couldn't dream of cooking anything serious. Too bad the nearest filet mignon is in Lima. Eight hours on the bus is enough for one weekend; even a steak can't tempt me to make it sixteen.
