How many Whole30 pun titles can I make for this thing? This one already sounds like I'm eating a rabbit. Let me clarify: I AM NOT EATING BUNNIES. Nope. No. That's not...no. Oh! And Happy Easter, everyone.
This morning, I had some work to do. Knowing I was starting the Whole30 tomorrow, I decided to do it up. Carbs and sugar for breakfast, and actual cream in my coffee. Bliss. Sweet, arthritic bliss.
So I wrote for work, thought about more monologues I'm writing, and slowly chewed the crunchy sugar coating of my carrot-raisin-I-can't-believe-people-think-this-is-healthy muffin.
I went to the local market and picked up plantains and soup bones. They had LOTS of both. Know why? No one in Rogers Park cares about my Whole30 goals. No one is impressed. Here's some soup bones and you know what? Here's some neck bones, too. That'll be about four damn dollars. Go away.
Once home, I had a bit more work to do, and then I got to delve into the first day of meal prep. Now, this is exciting to me, because I actually love prepping for days of eating. My kitchen feels organized, my week feels like it's in my control, and I feel like I did something right. The book said I'd be in the kitchen for about two hours.
That book is a filthy horrible liar and it needs to be punished.
I stood in the kitchen for about four hours. I cooked that entire time. Not only did I prep the damn bone broth (still simmering as we speak because the essence of the cow is not yet ready for my consumption whereupon my wrinkles will disappear and I will be a lovely maiden who will marry Prince Eric and rule the kingdom with my beautiful voice), I also made a tomato sauce, a frittata, two salads, spaghetti squash, mayo, and ranch dressing.
Apparently, the chopping involved for salad doesn't count as "prep time." That's what salad IS. IT IS ALL PREP TIME. It's chopping things forever until you've grown tired enough to put it all in a bowl. That is salad: chopping and defeat.
I made tuna resignation with some onions, celery, muscat grapes, and almonds. I can taste the weariness already.
Oh! And I then had to make dinner for my family. Those two people I'm allegedly doing this for, one of whom is four and could give a good goddamn if I'm cutting out carbs. She wants a bread sandwich immediately.
I made a bunch of this homemade mayo, only to discover I needed most of it for the homemade ranch dressing. I was disappointed to discover that it had a bitter taste because of my olive oil choice, but not to worry: apparently I'm going to be making this mayo A LOT. I'll use avocado oil next time. But, truly, they shouldn't bury the lede with this. What "clean eating" plan has you constantly making mayo as a sauce base? I am in, kids. They should have said something before. "The Whole30: YOU WILL EAT ALL THE MAYONNAISE" would have sold me from day one.
I didn't take pictures of all the prep because...I didn't. And because you've already seen someone's Instagram posts of this same prep that looks much better than mine. What I should have photographed, however, was my face when I realized that this whole 7 Day Plan (that's the only part of the menu planning that's done for you as a push to get you started) is for ONE person. I now have to double the recipes if I want leftovers, as I'm supposed to have on the plan. Not only does this mean I might have to GET more food, I will have to find somewhere to PUT more food. This is my refrigerator at present.
Yeah, there's nowhere to put anything else. And I'm not going back to the store. Not ever. They can fuck right off. I'll have mayonnaise for breakfast if I have to. What? I need to buy more eggs for that. DAMMIT.
Tomorrow, we have a frittata, avocado, and berries for breakfast. We have tuna disappointment for lunch, and ground beef, tomato sauce, and spaghetti squash for dinner. I expect to be satiated and extremely gassy. To everyone at the show I'm seeing tomorrow night, I'm so. So sorry. Tomorrow it begins. Pray for us all. Especially yourself if you plan on reading this nonsense. Good luck.