Suddenly it hits you: I’m going on the lockdown diet
Adeline loves food, lots of it and often, both at home and out. Most of the time that goes well, but sometimes it doesn’t. In the series Sunday Roast, she shares her observations. This week’s topic: the lockdown diet.
During the first mandatory period of working from home and staying in, I turned into a major consumer of wine and food. I almost started messaging my favorite restaurant just for the company, but it did get pretty informal. That snack board and especially the wine could be sent over immediately, because the first bottle was already finished in the afternoon. Wink. That kind of work. They laughed about it too. At least, they pretended to, which I enjoyed.
But not this time. This time everything is different. I’m on the lockdown diet, not to be confused with lockdown wine.
Far, far away
When I found myself with my head in the fridge for the tenth time in an hour on an entirely ordinary Tuesday morning, I knew I was ready for a strict ration. I gnawed my way through bags of nuts, freezers full of ice cream, double grilled cheese sandwiches and thickly buttered snacks, and was doomed never to fit through the front door again. And hey, there wasn’t a better time, was there? The hospitality industry was closed again, you weren’t allowed to have anyone over, and temptation was far, far away, or so I reasoned. No better time to follow a ridiculous low-carb diet. Which is what I started last Sunday. I’ve been utterly miserable ever since.
Basking in misery
On day two, my boyfriend and I—he’s being very sporty and joining me—had a serious conversation. Boyfriend: ‘I’m hungry.’ Yours truly: ‘I really feel like some cheese.’ Boyfriend: ‘Maybe I do want to be a little too fat for my coffin after all.’ Yours truly: ‘Yes, being thinner is so unnecessary.’ Boyfriend: ‘We’ve only been at it for two days, you know?’ Yours truly: ‘It feels like forever.’ After which we smiled thinly at each other (figuratively, of course, because being thin is still a long way off) and continued wallowing in misery.
Incredibly happy
Last night I dreamed it was mid-December and I was allowed to go to restaurants again. I walked through the front door of my favorite restaurant and fell face-first into a gigantic pool of melted Parmesan cheese, then was doused in the richest truffle cream ever made, wrapped in fresh pasta, and then drowned in my favorite Chardonnay. I was incredibly happy, until I woke up and my stomach rumbled ominously. Hospitality closed, nothing in the fridge. Miserable.
Staying balanced
The lockdown diet is no easy feat. Especially when it suddenly turns out that your joy lies in spending hours in the kitchen, hours sitting at the table, hours drinking good wine with friends, and you suddenly have to spend those hours eating low-carb. I heard De Jonge mention a third wave at the press conference. Let’s hope it never comes to that, but if it does, I’ll go back to lockdown wine that time. You have to stay balanced, don’t they always say?
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