Welcome to my E.D. Talk
This work serves as a preface for any food and cuisine related content that should follow. If you’re not comfortable reading about eating disorders (E.D.), please feel welcome to sit this one out.
Though I’ve alluded to it, as I did in Mr. Hidden and the Art of Hiding Behind a Coffee Cup- I have never stated outright that creating content for Hidden Des Moines has a therapeutic function. If you’re new here, Mr. Hidden is my alter ego- a version of myself that is both very much who I am but also who I’d like to become. If I want to be a mysterious character known for waxing poetic about our little city, or a bon vivant who’s living life to the fullest, or a socialite who uses their following to promote small businesses- I can set a goal for Mr. Hidden and then step into the role and become that person. Becoming Mr. Hidden has helped me find a lot of joy and happiness and I want to thank those that follow Hidden Des Moines for being a part of it. Thank you for being my home, Des Moines.
Having put this out there, this year I’d like to dive a little deeper into the topic of cuisine. I think it goes without saying that food is integral to the identity of any city. Ours is also the capitol of one of the richest agricultural landscapes on earth, there is so much to explore and experience here. I’d have jumped on the topic immediately if there wasn’t something standing in my way. The point I’m meandering towards is that I need to tell you about my relationship with food in order to accurately portray the personal journey that I’m starting by making more content about it.
From the Beginning
I very frequently find that I finish a meal and I cannot tell you much about it. If I am eating with others I am focused on keeping up appearances. Am I eating too fast? Will they notice? I’m going to have some water and pace myself. If I’m eating alone, I eat at break-neck speed. Eating is a necessary chore that must be completed to keep living. Get it over with and move on. No need to heat leftovers. I’ll barely taste them anyway.
There are days when I am at the will of my impulses. The hum of the refrigerator becomes a haunting drone that pulls me in and I might blow through three or four meals of food in a sitting. I cannot stock pre-made food in my home for fear that I will eat it. An event with free food is a nightmare- I feel compelled to consume more than my fill. Sweets on the break table at work have to be hidden from me, my colleagues know that I might help myself to half a container of cookies.
Externally, my weight fluctuates with my mental health. When I am not well I am on average thirty pounds heavier. Growing up this was the topic of much debate in my household- the dinner table became a discussion forum where long beligerent conversations were to be had about my body and my eating habits. Nothing was off limits from scrutiny, from how I chewed my food to what waist size my jeans would be in the next school year. I, being a stereotypically mischevious redhead, turned to raiding the pantry in secret. Here, I could fuel my body without the threat of others’ interrogation. In the process, I learned to binge. Many unceremonious body fueling sessions followed, eventually reaching an extreme.
Ones’ family has a right to be concerned about our wellbeing, and I do believe positive change can come from a family member voicing these concerns. In hindsight and in my case, however, I see that this scrutiny was only partly raised for my wellbeing. It was perhaps one part genuine concern, one part my parents projecting their insecurities onto me, and two parts the work of a narcissistic abuser desperately seeking control and a feeling of superiority by any means necessary. This created a feedback loop, the more backlash I faced, the more I binged in secret to be free of other’s expectations. The initial feeling of a binge is cathartic- only to be followed by a crash with feelings of shame, disappointment, and fear after the loss of control.
As I grew older and came into my identity as a gay man- I found myself subjected to a series of impossible body standards and stereotypes based on body type that further compounded the insecurities that I was taught at a younger age. The scrutiny was just coming from a new place. Am I attracted to a type or do I wish I looked like them? I couldn’t separate them until recently.
I am introspective enough to work this out, I can tell you the story with candor. I have long been an open book that could admit things like this and share them with others. However, being able to talk about things does not necesarilly mean I know how to tackle the problem, so now what?
(Yes, I’m in therapy, this blog post would not have been written without it.)
The task of rewiring my brain when it comes to food feels monumental. Even now, I’m not sure how to approach the problem. I’ve been screened for eating disorders multiple times and only ever been labeled as “at risk”, just escaping an official diagnosis. Going without a diagnosis in the past has meant that I never pursued any kind of follow up or treatment plan. Finally, last month I got a wake up call from a new primary healthcare provider: even after fasting my blood glucose was unusually high and my “bad” cholesterol was also concerning for a 27 year old. I finally had a quantifiable reason to make a substantial lifestyle change. Now is the time to change habits for the better.
Enter Hidden Des Moines
On several occasions I’ve attempted to publish a review of the esteemed Proudfoot & Bird and found myself consistently speechless. This is not the fault of the restaurant, quite the opposite. I am simply not used to thinking about food in this way. It is one of the few places that I can recall genuinely and totally enjoying a meal. The food there is phenomenal; I have eaten there several times and each and every time I felt warm and nourished. The atmosphere and the quality of the food were enough to refocus me onto the meal. In short, eating at Proudfoot helped shift my paradigm from eating as a chore to eating as something that can be enjoyed.
In the spirit of eating for nourishment and enjoyment, I’d like to create two kinds of food content for you here. Goals for Mr. Hidden, if you will.
I’ll check out local eateries and food suppliers and review them. The goal is to leave a restaurant and be able to review based on the five basic senses. (Sight, taste, smell, touch, and hearing). With regards to taste, we want to be able to describe flavors and textures. This means I have to commit to the experience, battle social anxiety, and also pay attention to the crafted meal in front of me.
I want to explore the culinary identity of Des Moines through home cooking. We’ll cook through classic Better Homes & Gardens recipes (all tested at the kitchens downtown at Dot Dash Meredith for generations). We’ll visit local farmer’s markets and specialty establishments like Graziano Brothers. Just for fun, I might include history tid-bits and agricultural knowledge I gain along the way.
I know that I love Des Moines. The end goal is to use that feeling as a medium to foster a healthy, loving relationship with food.
