But every once in a while at 3 a.m. I wake up ravenous.
I don’t keep much food in my house. My fridge has bottled water, an array of mustard and film in the butter tray.
The freezer…coffee and ice.
It comes from living in Europe loving the lifestyle. You had a sweet breakfast…brioche, espresso, a huge, swoony lunch and a small dinner. I also like to eat spontaneously never forced to say, I better finish that ham before it goes bad, when what I really want is tuna salad on rye.
So there I am awake hungrier than I’ve ever been…at least that’s how it feels, tooling to the fridge knowing there’s nothing there. Licking Gray Poupon off my fingers won’t cut it.
But then I remember…ah…the panini Anthony the grocer gave me on my way home.
“You need ta eat,” he said, handing me a Mozzarella with sprouts and sun dried tomatoes. The stray cat in me never refuses food…if nothing else, it will jazz up my refrigerator for a limited run.
I took it out of its cellophane realizing it was too cold to eat. Okay…now we get out the waffle iron I never use figuring, I’ll just perk it up with a little heat.
I don’t know what happened exactly, but as it was sizzling making a comeback, my smoke alarm went off when there was no smoke…scratching my head, removing it from the grill, I hear a knock on my door that had to be pretty loud for me to actually hear it.
It was my next door neighbor coming home from work.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah…I was just heating up a sandwich and the alarm went off.”
‘”You’re cooking? I am so hungry.”
Then her roommate comes out to find out what we were doing and said he was hungry too.
So my panini was split three ways along with chips she had in her bag and some fruit he came up with.
We ate like squirrels then went to bed…
and no, not with each other.