If you open my refrigerator right now, you will find tubs of miso (shiro, shinshu, and aka); hunks of cheese in varying states of age (Parmigiana-Reggiano, Consider Bardwell Dorset, Irish cheddar, Fontina Val D’Aosta); six bottles of kombucha (two each of cayenne, lemon ginger, and beet); leftovers (grilled flank steak, roast chicken); a container of organic tofu; two dozen local eggs; two jars of Thai curry (red and green); two bunches of broccoli rabe; baby kale; almond horchata; whole milk; gluten free bread; an avocado; plain yogurt; and sweet butter from Maine.

In my freezer I have multiple bags of frozen fruit for breakfast smoothies; rice, sweet rice, almond, corn, quinoa, and tapioca flours for gluten free bread-baking; a loaf of homemade sourdough bread; a portion of a pig; smoked haddock from Maine; a container of lavender honey gelato, mostly empty.

On the face of it, the contents of my refrigerator and freezer is not exceptional: I like to cook for myself and for others. I enjoy thoughtfully-produced foods and products, and I support the people who create them. But like any refrigerator and freezer, their contents are telling: look more closely, and stories begin to emerge — tales of hope, bandwagon-jumping, and utter neuroses.

Here’s the thing about the frozen fruit for breakfast smoothies: I don’t make breakfast smoothies, not even in the fancy Vitamix that I bought specifically with the intention of making them. I actually hate breakfast smoothies, mostly because they send my blood sugar skyrocketing first thing in the morning, and my hands shake and my heart races to the point where I can barely function. But a fairly famous doctor-turned-diet-guru told me via his customized daily newsletter that his recipes for breakfast smoothies were different: they’d keep me going for most of the day, or at least until lunch, and would kill my sugar cravings which, because I don’t have a sweet tooth, are not an issue. The doctor-turned-diet-guru assured me that the result of the breakfast smoothies would ultimately be weight loss and a lifetime of excellent health. I’m forever trying to drop ten pounds so I did the smoothie-for-breakfast thing for about a month, until I realized that it made me feel horribly, I lost not an ounce, and not because my body was purging itself of toxins, which so many adherents to the diet assured me was the case. So, I stopped with the smoothies. I felt guilty and like I had failed, and all the people in the very supportive on-line, members-only forums connected to this doctor-turned-diet-guru’s program assured me that it was obvious that I was just not ready to take control of my health. They told me to come back when I was. I told them that I didn’t like their fucking attitude. They told me that I had an anger management problem and didn’t like authority figures.

As for the bags of starch and flour in the freezer, I went gluten free about four years ago, when I came to the realization that it’s not normal to have toast and coffee for breakfast and, an hour later, be so ill that one has to lie down. A serious issue: I come from a long line of autoimmune problems and I believe that my father was an undiagnosed celiac (he was the one who got me accustomed to the idea of being sick every morning, as though it was just an expected part of life for most people, like cavities and eyeglasses). Eventually, after the two quadruple by-passes and the subsequent removal of all animal fats from his diet by his vegetarian spouse, he became gravely ill with a malabsorption problem. After he became septic and had emergency surgery, someone suggested he remove all white carbs and sugars from his diet. He followed suit and filled his fridge with fruits, vegetables, lean meats and fish. He joined a gym. He was healthier than he’d ever been in his life when, a few years later, he died from injuries sustained in a car accident. Which reminds me of the old expression of which my father was fond: Man plans and God laughs. 

A few weeks ago,