It's the land of food here at my parents' house. The cupboards are packed full of canned goods, the two fridges of cheeses and other delicious dairy products, and the two freezers of rice, ice cream, and bread. My brother, then six, gave my mother a card one year that said, "Valley of cheese", and it's a fairly accurate description - the cheese drawer is packed so full of different types of cheeses, that there could easily have an additional shelf in the fridge dedicated to brie, havarti, and all of the specialties you'll find in the kitchen.
Despite the valley of cheese, finding breakfast in the house is fairly difficult. My family rarely eats breakfast, and when they do it's generally eggs and potatoes. I'm not a cook, and can't make the delicious family potato recipe, and I'm sick and tired of eggs. So this morning I chose of the four kinds of veggie burgers we have in the freezers.
It's odd being back at home with a different food consciousness. My parents - all three of them - are very accommodating. Despite my favorite peppermint ice cream in the freezer, cheese in the fridge, and delicious food I won't buy or can't afford everywhere else, I am feeling healthy at home. I just put smaller portions on my plate, and supplement what I eat with a box of clementines I brought.
The only problem is the sheer number of parents I have, all of whom want to feed me. My Jewish father and my adoring mothers both show love through food. The only food choice I haven't been happy with is eating dinner twice yesterday. It's hard to say no to food as love, but I just ate some homemade challah, a bit of rice, and a small serving of fish. Smaller portions have just as much love as big ones.