Heart Food

I'm the first one to tell you that food is my everything, aside from my family and my really close friends of course. But what do you eat when your heart is broken into a million pieces? And everything you see or would want to eat, if you had an appetite, is something you want to share with the heart breaker? I call this category of food: Heart Food. The kind of food that any foodie would jump at the chance to eat, but your heart is too broken and your appetite to small to try it. Heart Food is the kind of food you would want to share with the significant other that you used to share all types of food experiences with, but now, you fly solo and...well...here's my heart food story:

Just yesterday I came across a Korean BBQ burrito. Yes, ladies and gents, a KOREAN BBQ BURRITO! I was so excited to try it! It was a new item that the restaurant by day Korean bar by night, Haru Izakaya in Tustin, Ca, was trying to promote. The item leaped out of the little hand written "specials" neon yellow note card that was placed inside the menu. I was overcome by joy when I saw that there was something on that menu that I had not tried before.

When my two little flour wrapped Korean BBQ burritos came out it looked and smelled like, well, Korean BBQ with a...certain...je ne sais quoi aroma that made my mouth water. The cutest thing about these burritos was how the chef placed the sauce on the plate. He made a geisha out of Japanese mayo, terriyaki sauce, and rooster sauce or Sriracha sauce. The terriyaki was the round bobbed hair, the Japanese mayo the flawlessly white painted face, and the Sriracha was the eyes, the nose, the mouth, and the decorative hair pins in this saucy geisha's hair.

Everything about this burrito seemed ready for me to tear it apart in hunger and in excitement. But then I stopped. And everything just didn't seem right. I wanted to share this experience and this burrito with my former foodie love but he was no where insight. The burritos came pairs and I was flying solo from now on. It hit me like a freight train and I was instantaneously paralized in my chair. The familiar desire to share this burrito was a remider that I would have to enjoy this alone, or I guess in this particular loss of appetite case, not enjoy it.

I ate one of the burritos, not wanting to waste. And it was a phenomonally great late night meal item. I know I didn't enjoy it half as much as I should or would have if this wasn't "Heart Food".

I took my now solo burrito home in a foam doggy box and shoved it in my fridge wishing that I had the appetite and the company I wanted to appreciate this new food find with me.

It didn't cross my mind to take a picture of the burrito while I was there, but I did take one of the loney burrito that I had undesirably dragged home with me. Now cold and hard my burrito filled with bulgogi, slaw, Sriracha and possibly some other tasty bits that I could not identify and my now blended geisha face is a cold, lonely reminder that I can't even enjoy food that I know I would otherwise enjoy.

Funny how the people that don't normally eat a lot express their heartbreak by eating a gallon of ice cream in their fuzzy slippers and pajamas, clutching their favorite blanket on the couch and watching break up movies as they cry their eyes out.

For me, a foodie, heartbreak has an adverse effect. I have no desire to eat or to enjoy food. My love for great food is now clouded by the desire share my food and my experience with the former companion that shared the same love for food. And the constant reminder that I am now alone on this food find endeavor is something I don't know I can overcome...

Foodie hell = Trying to enjoy food alone

Now there's some food for thought.