Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Inspired by my sylvan environs and a certain primal feel to my day to day existence, I thought how can I bring my diet more in line with the rest of my life? I have spent more than a year communing with nature, moving rock, accumulating grit and loam in every imaginable orifice, working my hands until they were thick and leathery. And now I need a diet that is equally as robust--Something that announces my newfound image without going to the extreme measure of donning a loincloth or inserting those cork things in my ears.
I think I found it. When we were pure, unblemished, without sin, that is, when we were cavemen living in paradise, naturally we were suckling out the essence of perfection. We are fallen creatures since that time of innocence, and agriculture is our pandora’s box, or if you prefer, our fruit of good and evil and since that time we have been living in a sort of culinary purgatory. Naturally it follows we wear our scarlet letters in terms of flabbiness, dull minds and pasty flesh. As a species, we’re collectively forming one ginormous Homer Simpson shaped impression in our societal couch.
Luckily we have something called the Paleo diet to lead us out of our sinful ways. It implies that we were formed as perfect beings, have fallen, but can take an enormous step towards redemption by repenting from our godlessly contrived cuisine and accepting the purity of the word made food.
It says that if a caveman couldn’t eat it, if a food is not forageable, then we weren’t meant to eat it as well. Sounds great to me. So hunkering for a hearty Vermont breakfast sandwich of egg ham and cheese on an English muffin, I got to work.
I tracked squirrels all day hoping beyond hope they would lead me to their store of acorns. I diligently collected them seed by seed, subsisting on grubs and pine needle tea in the meanwhile. Next I would have to gather enough reeds to make a makeshift mesh bag, the only way I can soak all the bitter tannin out of the acorns to make a palatable flour.
While those were soaking I set off to subdue a female moose so I could milk her, but was stymied by a conundrum. From what animal should I obtain the rennin? Unable to locate a caveman for consultation, or even the abominable snowman, I decided I could do without the cheese. I could make do with smoked venison ham, but found it next to impossible to create sparks from the snow logged sticks. A number of problems ensued, yet my faith remained steadfast. No bird in its right mind would lay eggs at this time of winter. Nary a bee in sight for the honey I’d need for my acorn flour….
Overall I’d have to call the diet a success, not only did I lose fifty pounds, over a third of my body weight, from just a single meal, but I also felt cleansed, of everything. And towards the end of my diet a few of my cavemen brethren were kind enough to congratulate me personally and a brontosaurus gave me a lift on his neck to reach a cotton candy tree. I must have slipped off because I woke up in the hospital the next day with an IV feeding the evil back into my body drip by drip.