I'm an adult. I'm a chef. I know what good food is, and what food isn't supposed to be good. But...
Don't you ever get a craving for something you ate when you were little but you know you shouldn't still like as an adult? And then do you get angry at the people who made up such a stupid unwritten rule, that you have to stop liking something just because you're a grown up? It makes me want to kick them in the shins for making me and all of the other adults who sometimes feel guilty about the fact that they really aren't adults feel bad. (Did ya get that?)
I know I shouldn't like Chef Bourdee anymore. I recognize that those little marble sized meatballs probably aren't meat, and if they are, I probably don't want to know which part of the animal they came from. I can comprehend that those little square raviolis that are swimming in the impossibly thin and viscus sauce are not the best I can do.
But damn it, sometimes I just want to open a can and eat them until my tummy hurts. No need to heat it. Just eat it out of the can like an impatient teenager who is late for drama club.
And what about animal crackers? I'm not talking about the ones you get before you go back to college for the semester that come in a giant sized bag that inevitably rips before you are done with them. I'm talking about the ones that come in the little boxes that look like circus trains and have a little white string for a handle. The ones that taste more like cookies than crackers and are much more detailed than the grown up version. (The ones that you used to try to sneak in the shopping cart when you were in the grocery store with your parents).
Grown ups like cookies. We like detail. We may not like the circus, but we can appreciate a whimsical box when we see one!
Bagel Bites seem to be banned too. What's up with that? Just because I am supposed to know that eating those little snack sized pizzas as a meal is bad doesn't mean that I should have to lie about who I live with (kids/no kids) when I reach into the freezer.
Yes, I can afford a real pizza pie from a reputable pizza joint. But damn it, I want popable pizzas from a cardboard box every now and then! Is that too much to ask?
I can't even get into the way you are looked at in the office break room when everyone is eating Lean Cuisines and Hot Pockets and you whip out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. (And God forbid you hate the crusts and cut them off!) It's like you suddenly have blazing red flaming hair in a sea of pretty blonds.
And no one wants to be the ugly girl.