Thursday night, I made an amazing burrito filled with perfectly seasoned chicken thighs cooked in the air fryer and homemade refried beans made in the instant pot. Despite my apparent aversion to using the stovetop and newfound mommy blogger-like love of unnecessary kitchen gadgetry, I was pretty stoked with how it turned out and devoured the savory log of carby Mexicana like a pack of rabid wolverines near a shallow grave (What?? – Ed.).
Sadly, I should have made two burritos or at least stuffed the one I had with more goodies because less than 10 minutes after lapping up the last of the escaped beans from my plate, I had a case of the munchies. This had me pulling my resources together like a post-frat party college kid and making not one but two ill-advised Italian quesadillas on the stovetop griddle (what, no gadgets?) lightly filled with pepperoni, mozzarella cheese, and tomato sauce and toasted to perfection (at least in my mind at the time).
It wasn’t until I woke up a 3:45 AM dying of thirst and fighting back acid reflux did I realize my folly, and the first pangs of guilt rumbled through my well-fed gut.
“I’ll make up for it in the morning! I’ll skip breakfast and do an extra mile on the Dreadmill! No, I’ll do 20 miles on the magic Zwift machine! I’ll burn that shit off ASAP!! Now give me another glass of tepid bathroom sink water, stat!!!”
However, when I awoke in the morning, I found I really didn’t give a shit anymore and did not skip breakfast. Instead, I opted for a jug of coffee, scrambled eggs (1 egg/3 egg whites) mixed with Mrs. Renfro’s jalapeno green salsa, and a side of whole-grain toast topped with vegan butter. Not sure why vegan butter is a thing, but Wifey uses it, so we have it. I think it’s just gelatinized olive oil and yellow food coloring, but I could be wrong.
I also realized that I had no desire to confine myself to the Not So Stankment for fake workouts. Instead, I opted for a walk in the sunny, snowy woods with my Ricoh GR camera in my pocket. A walk that burned about as many calories as combing one’s hair but not nearly as many as pulling one’s hair out.
I walked around the trails of the Sylvan Preserve, trying not to slip on the solid ice hidden under an inch or two of fresh snow, enjoyed the sunshine that was surprisingly warm despite the 15˚ temps, and took a few random photos to scratch the creative itch I get in my loins, before I headed home, first stopping at the grocery store for more flour tortillas. I mean, what if I want more ill-advised post-dinner Italian quesadillas later?
Whilst I do sort of regret Thursday’s late-night abomination of Italian-ish stoner-like food and the GERD that came with it, I don’t regret opting for a walk outside instead of sweating in the basement; the sun was bright, the sky was blue, and the morning woods were quiet and still. I may not have freed myself of fatty guilt by walking off those unneeded “quesadillas,” but it was a perfect wintry mental “rub and a tug.”
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Join me tonight as I make Slovak quesadillas filled with mashed potatoes, shredded cabbage, kielbasa, and non-vegan butter.1
Later.