A Greasy Love Affair

     My mother has always had a dislike for fast food. So, growing up, it was a treat for us to see the little speaker next to the car and tell the robotic voice within it what our order was going to be. Looking back, I feel bad for whoever was on the other end of that speaker. My younger sister and I would wait until we heard the bored, "What can I get you today?", and simultaneously begin to yell out our orders. "Chicken nuggets!" "I want a cheeseburger!" "Don't forget the french fries!" "Mom! Can I get a soda?!"

      I can still feel the edges of my seat belt digging into my collar bone, as I leaned forward as far as my car seat allowed, trying to look at the menu. The frustration at being a six-year-old still in a car seat, was always somewhat mollified by the sight of a steaming pile of my beloved chicken nuggets. After I had scraped the last of the barbecue sauce from it's tiny plastic home, I would start in on my french fries. Sharing a conspiratorial look with my sister, I would check to make sure my mother wasn't paying attention and dunk a handful of fries into my milkshake. Explosions of sweet and salty would awaken my taste buds, and a content grin always spread across my face.

      The sweet and salty mix of a pile of fries and a huge milkshake always used make me grin. One particular summer, I ate a double-double with a large order of fries and a vanilla shake from In-and-Out, at least once a week. Exhausted, my friends and I would pile into the car, and wheedle and beg until the parent of the day took us for burgers and fries. There were few things as satisfying as biting into a big piece of meat after an intense morning of summer camps or horse back riding.

      Now unfortunately, fast food is anything but satisfying. The suety, salty messes that fast food places try pass of as a "meal" only make my stomach turn. As I have gotten older, my tolerance for anything frozen, deep fried and then drowned in sauce, has plummeted. Although a large part of that is a psychological aversion, my regular diet is so far removed from the fast food world that it is hard for my body to process the overload of sodium and fat.

      At home, my family's diet is very health-conscious, and delicious. Just the other night we had mashed cauliflower (it is better than it sounds), roasted chicken, swiss chard and grilled potatoes. Each member of my family cooks, and as a result, my standard for food has become very high. Recently my mother and I had lunch at a Panda Express, and she said, "I can cook so much better than this. Why did we come here?"

      Despite my childhood adoration of fast food, I have out grown that greasy love affair. Now, my palate's expectations far exceed anything that a fast food joint could offer. The convenience, and cost of it may have it's place, but I for one, am done with fast food.