This isn’t a recipe. This is me stuck in a rut.
There was a period of time after college that I refer to as my Big Dip. My Big Dip Period was me out on my own in the world, no idea how to make a meal for myself and eating fast food or highly questionable sushi from a place between a Papa John’s and a Yoshinoya. People would tell me I was healthy because I was skinny and I would laugh and laugh and laugh. Inside I would cry and cry and cry.
Dinners during the Big Dip consisted of discreet objects: Chips, salsa and a leftover eggroll. Cheese and crackers and grits. One steamed artichoke and a garlic naan. A bunless hot dog with ketchup.Read More