Food: A Love Story (10 page)

COFFEELAND

It’s impossible to talk about coffee and not think about the Pacific Northwest. Seattle changed the way we drink coffee. Well, at least what we pay for coffee. Starbucks, Tully’s, Dutch Bros., and Seattle’s Best all come from the upper-left-hand
corner of the map. While all have excellent coffee, in a popularity contest, Starbucks wins. Starbucks coffee is everywhere. It’s in malls, hotels, and even in some restrooms of existing Starbucks. It’s insane to think that one day not that long ago John Starbuck asked his wife, “What if we serve strong coffee at three hundred degrees and charge five bucks for it?”

I like to think coffee comes from beans; therefore, it’s a vegetable. Coffee is the only thing most of us have for breakfast—or in my case, when I wake up in the afternoon. Coffee is a staple of our lives. Coffee plays such an important role in my life, I’ve contemplated getting coffee a Christmas present. I was thinking a mug. A mug that says world’s greatest vegetable. I need coffee to get out of bed and get through the day. However, after fifteen cups of coffee I do feel there is a diminishing return. It almost seems as if it starts to have the opposite effect, as processing all that caffeine exhausts my system. At times coffee just feels to me like a sleeping potion with a delayed time release that can only be remedied by additional coffee. Even the person who decided on the spelling of the word
coffee
seems to have had too much caffeine.

Initially, I was reluctant to pay more than a dollar for a cup of coffee. Coffee shops like Starbucks and their boutique coffee shop competitors seemed annoying to me. Why was everyone so pompous and aloof? I’m here for coffee, not to write the next great American novel. I didn’t understand why the espresso machine was the size of a station wagon or why I should have to wait longer to pay
more
for a cup of coffee. I thought of coffee as just a caffeine delivery device, but eventually I came to care deeply about the taste. The desire for good-tasting coffee is a secondary step in the coffee addiction. First you get addicted to the crutch of caffeine in coffee and then you find your taste preference. I was seduced by the flavor of good coffee. I like my coffee strong, black, and frequent. “Okay, expensive
strong coffee, you win. I’m lost without you. Where do I send all of my money?” At this point, weak coffee angers me, and I believe brewing it like that should be considered a crime.

The wait I encounter in coffee shops still annoys me a little. I hold myself back from barking at the people in line before me, “Just order! You are getting a beverage, not picking a college to attend!” I’m impatient, but I still wait. I am a serious coffee drinker and I have to stand in line with others like me as well as the amateurs. I go to coffee shops for good coffee, and amateurs go for coffee-flavored milkshakes. I find it humorous that adults have found a way to use coffee shops as a means to not look ridiculous by walking around in broad daylight with a huge cup of ice cream with a straw in it. “It’s a Frappuccino! I’m an adult!”

I used to not appreciate the employees in coffee shops. They seemed too snobby and nonchalant. And slow. There is not-being-in-a-hurry slow, and then there is “I work-in-a-boutique-coffee-shop” slow. The coffee shop employees always seem like they could use some caffeine themselves. I remember thinking to myself,
Who the hell does that guy think he is?
Now I understand that the people who work in coffee shops are entitled to act self-important. After all, they are the first responders of everyone’s day. They are delivering the first fix of caffeine to all us addicts, and they have to take their time or it could become Armageddon. They are heroes, really. Or drug dealers. Either way, they are allowed to be jerks. Thank you, arrogant coffee shop employee.

FOOD ANXIETYLAND

Traveling around doing stand-up, you learn about the uniqueness of certain cities. A stand-up comedian knows they will be competing for an audience with amazing music scenes in Nashville and Austin. In New York, Las Vegas, and Chicago you will contend with an enormous entertainment scene. You’d never schedule a show in any Canadian city if the local hockey team (NHL or minor league) has a game. In New Orleans, it is a different situation. In New Orleans you compete against food. Sure, New Orleans has jazz and binge drinking, but the real competition for live stand-up comedy shows is restaurants and food in general. There is great dining in most large cities, but not like the dining in New Orleans. You don’t just dine in New Orleans. You overeat. Not overeating in New Orleans is like going to Paris and not looking at the Eiffel Tower.

Whenever I’m about to go to New Orleans for a show, I always suffer food anxiety. I’m not being cute here. There is actually an angst that comes over me. There are just too many
decisions. Where should I eat? What should I eat? How often can I eat? Did anyone watch all the episodes of
Treme
? New Orleans is a food mecca. It’s not just the variety; it’s the fact that I have never had bad food in New Orleans. I think it may be against the law. Even getting a hot dog from a street cart in New Orleans is a culinary adventure. Typically, a city or a region of the country is known for a particular dish or a type of food that an overeater can track down in a day by asking a local. That is not the case in New Orleans. The bread, meats, and spices of New Orleans are as fun, unique, and diverse as its inhabitants. The dishes are at once pedestrian and simultaneously exotic. Should I eat Cajun, Creole, fried chicken, beignets? I could go on for a page or two. It’s too much. I never have enough time.

I think the po’boy sandwich was named after a guy who was trying to decide where to eat for his one meal in New Orleans. Settling on a place to eat there is my equivalent of
Sophie’s Choice
. How do I choose one over the other? It’s painful. To make matters worse, this issue affects me not only for every meal but also for every moment of the day. Sure, for breakfast you need to get a beignet at that tourist-trap place, but what about Cajun-style biscuits and gravy? For lunch you have to get jambalaya, but what about chicken and sausage gumbo? Breakfast, lunch, snack, dinner, late-night dinner, pre-breakfast … it’s all too overwhelming. I understand people plan actual food vacations to New Orleans under the guise of enjoying jazz, but I’m typically in the Big Easy for one night. One night! That translates into only six meals for me. How will I decide? If I had to make a film about my experience in New Orleans, I would definitely get Meryl Streep to play me.

Some gumbo while I figure out what to order.

AT LEAST I DON’T EAT BLUBBER

Every morning I get up at 6:00 a.m. I meditate, do my yoga, drink a protein shake, run six miles, and then commence lying to everyone about what I do every morning. The truth is, I didn’t get a chance to do yoga or jog this morning or any other morning of my life. But those things are more likely to happen than the likelihood of me ever drinking a protein shake. I don’t eat healthy. It’s difficult to eat healthy. At times I make an effort, but I usually fail. I hate when I try to order a salad and my mouth says, “I’ll have a Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese.” It’s like I have autocorrect in my mouth. My heart may be willing, but my brain abdicated to my taste buds long ago. I’m not a healthy eater. I’m like the Dr. Oz of unhealthy eating. I don’t mean this as a criticism of Dr. Oz, who I’m sure is a nice man, but I’m starting to doubt he is really from Australia. Where is your accent, Dr. Oz?

Stages of Eating Healthy

I go through different stages of healthy eating. First it’s the “I’m only eating salads” phase. Then I’ll get to the “I’ve eaten
salads for half a day straight—I should treat myself to a hamburger” phase. Finally, I get to the last phase, which I’m in right now, the “I don’t give a phase.”

If you are like me, when you enter this last phase, you begin to justify things. “I’m in a hurry, so it’s just an absolute necessity that I go to McDonald’s. I don’t want to go, it’s just that I have to or it’s possible I could starve to death.” Then all your food choices quickly become an endless stream of irrational rationalizations. “Well, I’ll allow myself to eat
that
because I had a salad a month ago. Well, I’ve earned
that
because I took out the garbage. Well, I’m starting my starvation diet tomorrow, so I really should have five hamburgers.”

My favorite rationalization is when the food is free. I have never been able to turn down free food. Maybe it’s because I grew up with five siblings, and food was always a valuable commodity. Maybe the inability to resist free food has its roots in my college years, when I couldn’t afford food and at one point resorted to eating a can of pie filling. Whatever the reason, I just can’t resist it if it’s free. Free food is the temptress that can make me give up my morals and cheat on any diet. My diets always end in divorce.

I’m married to a beautiful woman. I’m not just saying that because Jeannie is helping me write this book and she is sitting right next to me. Well, not
right
next to me, but chances are she will probably see this page at some point. But anyway, she is beautiful. When we are in public together and strangers find out Jeannie is my wife, there is usually an audible
Wow!
I used to find this flattering until I realized it was an insult. I’m not a caveman. Anyway, there are so many impressive things about Jeannie besides her beauty and brains. Most noticeable would be that Jeannie has given birth to five healthy babies, and I look like I ate five healthy babies. She is a genetic anomaly. It seems she can eat whatever she wants to and still remain thin and energetic.
Jeannie aspires to make everyone in our family healthy eaters, but it’s kind of hard with me around.

Jeannie has gone from wanting us to eat healthy, to wanting us to eat organic, to not buying food. She buys this bread that is made from 100 percent organic tree bark. “Why do you need regular bread when you can lick a tree?” Jeannie likes to buy organic whole foods. Organic is probably the biggest scam of the century. For those of you unfamiliar with it,
organic
is a grocery term for “more expensive.”