The hospital has made me obsessed with food. Watching Top Chef probably doesn't help either.
This was my dinner tonight. Baked goods in bags. Salmon, brown rice and "capri medley" of vegetables. Frozen and scooped out onto a plate to be heated up. No seasoning on anything. The smell is horrendous. So maybe I am a snob, but I just can't eat this stuff.
If I wasn't pregnant I would view this as a great opportunity to become very thin. Obviously I AM pregnant and cutting back is not an option so I eat a mixture of what's on the tray (breakfast is okay and lunch includes a soup that usually has vegetables), what is in my room and what my suppliers bring me.
Telfer went grocery shopping before he left a couple weekends ago, stocking me up on soup and good cheese and olives and crackers and nuts and ginger ale and cranberry juice. My mom and sister have sent homemade power bars. Molly brings me wonderful salads with chicken and avocado and freshly baked cookies from Pret a Manger.
But mostly, it's Eleanor. She comes up to Washington Heights three or four times a week bringing me food and conversation every time – we (ahem, I) love hummus and pita and grape leaves and falafel from The Hummus Place or pad thai from Sura or salad bar from Whole Foods and even a cheeseburger from a diner that we used to meet her at. She stops by the farmer's market and brings me fruit. She was even on the lower east side the other day and brought me up an arepa from a restaurant called Caracas, most possibly my favorite food ever.
Eleanor is really, really nice to me. In general, I don't think I could have made it through this without her. And don't worry, I am paying her for all this food.