Craving to Aversion
A Nice But Sad Story About A Sandwich
Unlike my usual non-pregnant state of affairs, when people laugh at me for having very specific ideas about what I would like to eat at a particular time, I have not been experiencing cravings, but rather aversions.
However: I’ve been wanting and wanting one of these Italian sandwiches. The ones on bread with sesame seeds and a hundred kinds of meat of varying shades of pink — mortadella, salami, capicolla — meat that you don’t want to think too much about but that you do want to have in the context of this sandwich, and provolone and shredded lettuce and tomato and oil and vinegar and cherry peppers that have been packed in vinegar. On occasion my husband will make us go way out of the way for one of these, and when I got a craving I knew I couldn’t have the whole hog, as it were, due to the possible poisonous effects of cured meats on incubating babies. But I wondered what could possibly happen if I had one bite of one that was technically his. I explained my desire for a sandwich to him one Saturday morning before we’d gotten up.
“You should have one if you want . . . ” he said, in a calm tone that foreshadows how he will be an effective parent, ” . . . but would you really be comfortable with doing it?”
Scowl. Not after that polite but reasonable lecture. “What about if you ordered one with everything but the meat,” he suggested, helpfully, and since I am more interested in the trappings than the substance (meat) of a sandwich, that actually seemed like a brilliant idea.
I spent some time researching where I could get the best Italian sandwich in Brooklyn. Leoni’s Latticini in Bensonhurst kept coming up on sandwich-loving message boards. I mapquested it, and saw that it was an 11 minute drive from our house. It was a weekday so I was sure to finish work by 5:50 because I’d called and they told me they closed at 6:30. I arrived at 6:10 and the lights were lowered and a few men were sweeping up. It looked like it was open enough if you wanted a can of soda or a ball of cheese. BUT WHAT ABOUT A SANDWICH?
“Too late for sandwiches, huh?” I called out as I went in. A Mexican man behind the counter who was finishing cleaning the meat slicing machine responded, “I can only get you a chicken parm.”
I like chicken parm, don’t get me wrong, but the whole store was hung with exciting signs describing different sorts of subs, and I’d really tried to do my homework in service of getting myself ALMOST the sandwich I wanted, if not the exact one — and it all seemed a bit sad.
If I couldn’t have the sandwich I wanted or even the sandwich I had decided to settle for, there was still no way I was walking out of Bensonhurst with no sandwich. I’d take the bronze.
“I’ll take a parm,” I told him, with a hint of resignation.
As he cut the bread, the man he asked what I had really come for. I replied that I wanted one of the Italians subs, but without the meat. He did a double take, since Italians subs are all about the meat.
“You want one without the meat?
So I explained that of course I want it with the meat, but I’m pregnant, so I can’t have that kind of meat. And I figured I’d just get it with provolone.
He paused. He looked into my soul. He said, “My dear, I am going to make you whatever you like.”
People can be lovely, right? He reopened the slicing machines he’d just finished cleaning and made me a giant veggie italian sandwich. I was so happy. I brought it home, settled into a comfortable chair on our porch, and ate 1/2 of it.
I was up all night sick.
Still, I can’t blame him if a craving turned into an aversion.
places i have recently spit
Ok, this is REALLY disgusting, but part of (my) pregnancy is an interesting yet not-recommended thing called “ptyalism,” (pronounced tile-ism) which basically means that your salivary glands kick into high gear, and you do a lot of spitting. I spit into the toilet, the sink, onto the ground, or if driving, into a bottle.
Since I am not always certain when it’s going to come on, I’ve spat in some inappropriate places, lately. Here’s a little list.
1. on my foot (while biking, it’s sometimes hard to get good aim)
2. on my shirt (uh, it just happened. i don’t know)
3. on the subway platform (in a way that I would be SO judgmental of others for doing — perhaps ptaylism will teach me . . . ptolerance!)
4. on the inside of my own car, while driving, after missing the window hole.
5. in the bathtub, while I was in it, trying to bathe, but my mouth filled up with spit i could not swallow. don’t worry, i showered after my spit bath.
6. on a low flying bird who was rounding a corner just as I was planning to. i wonder whether it was embarrased, or will consider it good luck?
What helps? Potato chips, say some. I like minty Mentos. I also like staying at home, which makes this slightly less horrifying.
A Personal Compendium of Nausea-Related Policies, Coping Mechanisms, and Fun Facts
by Meredith Phillips
* During the weeks (or months) of morning sickness there is no reason–be it a chunk of food, a white furry coating, or a hygienic habit–that is compelling enough that you should attempt to floss your teeth or brush your tongue. These things are triggers. As I told my husband the other day, “if I were you I would get drunk, eat a lot of salami, and floss my teeth.” He looked slightly perplexed but I have always taken these activities for granted, and I wanted to make sure that someone out there was doing these things mindfully, and enjoying them.
* Never make eye contact with a prenatal vitamin! If you need to use your eyes to get it out of the bottle, or for good aim, look at it peripherally or with somewhat blurred vision. If you do let it into your range of vision, be sure not to be thinking about it simultaneously.
* During the attempt, it helps to be both eating a meal and taking sips of chocolate milk. (One could reasonably ask: what does chocolate milk NOT help?) In fact, try to have a hand in at least 3 other projects, which enables you to sort of sneak-take it. Reading an article, eating a meal, and planning out the next thing you’re going to do is a good strategy. If you can work a sudoku game in at the same time, go for it. At the moment that you pop it in, don’t stop reading, but do start holding your nose with one hand, while you grab the chocolate milk with the other. (You are allowed to look at the milk.) Swallow in a brisk yet non-panicky fashion, and act calm, like nothing terrible is happening. Keep drinking the chocolate milk slowly and taking tiny bites of food. Hopefully these instructions are complicated enough that you can forestall roiling in disgust — at least until the 16th minute (see below).
* A vitamin is assimilated within 15 minutes after you swallow it.
* My cousin the dr. suggests: on days when you can’t even think about the vitamin, take folate pills. Rather than being canoe-sized and saddled with a horrific stink, the tiny, benevolent folate pills are more like the seven spiders that we all purportedly swallow in our sleep every calendar year; you don’t even notice them going down. And apparently, other than the shame factor, there is no compelling reason not to take a Flintstones Chewable if worse comes to worst. (I have since amended this post to say — there is not compelling reason to take a prenatal at all, when you can take a Flintstones Sour Gummy Chewable.)
* We’ve grown up thinking vegetables are our friends but this is Communist Propaganda. Contrary to evolved adult belief, they are *extremely disgusting.* If you must approach something green with your mouth, consider pistachio ice cream.
* Some vegetation is less evil than others. For instance, spinach is far easier to digest than broccoli or carrots. Pickles must have no nutritional value, because they are really great. If you are going to eat vegetables, eat them at the time of day when your digestion seems to be working best. If you are sick in the morning, avoid them. Being sick in the evening, I would not make an attempt past 4pm.
* Fruit is good.
* Eggs rock, according to our baby. But our baby might just favor smooth round white things, because minty Mentos also rock.
* Don’t be afraid to shake up your mealtimes. If your nausea consistently strikes at night, try not eating dinner. Two little breakfasts then a nice lunch in the late afternoon works.
* A banana yogurt shake before leaving bed is the perfect first breakfast. Matthew has an extremely delicious recipe he could share, but the gist is: 5 cubes of ice, a glug of milk, 1.5 bananas, a quantity of yogurt. Flax seeds or berry aren’t a bad addition.
* One more thing that has helped me with nausea is sort of giving in to it. You can’t so much about it, fighting / worrying about can be nearly as stressful as feeling nauseous, and it does not make it go away. One perk of being literate is that you can hang out in the bathroom feeling sick and practice self-edification. For instance, I just finished East of Eden, which is 630 pages long. When else might I have found the time to get through this American classic?
WHO AM I? AND WHAT CAN I EAT???
Due to my present condition — pregnancy — I’m not allowed to eat . . . ah, anything? Because there are two sweeping categories of food that are off limits, and it’s giving me an identity crisis!
Category 1. Things that are reputed to be dangerous to pregnant women for various reasons, &
Category 2. Things that no longer seem edible due to NVP. (NVP is a fancy acronym for Nauseau and Vomiting of pregnancy, which is morning sickness that is not limited to morning.)
CATEGORY 1
When pregnant, to protect the impending baby, rules have been established about what you’re allowed and not allowed to eat. You’re not allowed to eat raw fish or drink booze or eat “soft cheese.” If you’re inclined, you can spend all day long debating online with people who know even less than you do about what exactly what “soft cheese” means. How soft is soft? No brie, feta, goat cheese, fresh mozzarella. No blue cheese. But what is the uniting characteristic of the cheeses you cannot eat? These things seem to have nothing in common, except possible non pasteurization, except we are in the US, where pretty much everything is pasteurized. Mold is apparently another concern.
You can’t have sandwich meat, because of a mysterious but bad disease which almost no one has ever gotten and fewer people are getting all the time, and then they do get it seems to be in Europe and from salad. However, it is reportedly so horrible (not just for the person carrinyg a baby — but for a baby) that one must still avoid it all all costs. Is called Listeriosis. Aside from eating sandwiches in general, it can keep you from eating italian sandwiches, even when you REALLY want them. And this disease is also a reason not to eat soft serve ice cream. Or Rotisserie chicken, or anything that was cooked before the moment you are planning to eat it. Attempting to follow these guidelines could start you sliding down the slippery slope to starvation.
Oh, and try no to eat mercury, which is a key ingredient in old thermometers and anything that comes out of the ocean in some quantity, but especially avoid tilefish, which you won’t have heard of until you are pregnant and someone tells you NOT TO EAT IT. Other large fish like tuna, or king mackerel are also on the bad list because of mercury.
Coffee is also off limits except in particular quantities but you might even want to avoid that during the first trimester, they unfortunately discovered right as we conceived, because of a higher than usual incidence of miscarriage. Goodbye, beloved coffee and the attendant pleasant addiction.
CATEGORY 2
The category 1 list seems limiting but there are some things that don’t make the list; unfortunately, I am also limited by what I will immediately throw up. This list includes:
green vegetables
vegetables of other hues
anything after 9pm
vitamins
My husband is suddenly thrust into the position of primary cook, and aside from me chasing him around with a box of salt and turning the burners and up and down to his extreme annoyance, he’s generally good at it. But I’m a whole new wife. Normally a maximalist with my food — stinky cheeses! new kinds of curry! everything on my pizza! — I’m picking little chunks of pepper out of marinara sauce. There’s really only so much cheese ravioli with barely any sauce on it that a girl can eat.
I vow that I will not only blog about being nauseous from now on. It’s just that — this condition is such a total departure and nausea conquers all other emotions.
Making the Supertaster
I’ve long been fascinated by the concept of “supertasters,” who are people with superior senses of taste due to the presence of dominant alleles of a certain gene. I have a pretty good palate, and pride myself on both being able to enjoy a lot of flavors, as well as identify specifics within a dish. But there is a downside to being an actual bonified supertaster, which is that they are invariably very very picky because things taste too strong, so they lose a sense of enjoyment. Lessened pleasure from food? That takes the fun out of the idea. I was recently reading that when trying to determine a supertaster, you can look at someone’s tongue and literally measure their tastebuds, or, there are five questions to ask which can also give you an idea. The first four:
- Do you enjoy black coffee?
- Do you like scotch?
- Do artificial sweeteners taste different to you than regular sugar?
- Do you tend to oversalt food?
These questions all lead to the question of whether or not you have oversensitive taste buds. Unlightened coffee and scotch both have a bitterness which a supertaster would shy from. And oversalting food can tip the scales away from the bitter flavor naturally occurring in many foods. Bitter is why children don’t like vegetables. My answers? I definitely need to mitigate my coffee with dairy; I find scotch rather bitter; artificial sweetener tastes like I imagine rat poison does; and I am a big fan of salt.
The last question of the series is:
5. Did you mother suffer from morning sickness while pregnant with you?
My mother did was not particularly afflicted, though a certain queasy feeling did dictate that she pack up and hide a certain set of green melamine dishes which had formerly been a staple. So it’s possible that I am not a supertaster — but the news — admittedly hidden deep in the blog, but hey, this is an eating blog rather than a procreation blog — anyhow, the news is that I may be making one!
A supertaster, that is. That’s right, for the last few weeks or so, I have been bossed by a dime-sized embedded something who has grabbed the wheel, or the reins, or whatever normally drives me around — OH! My STOMACH! to tell me exactly what is and is not acceptable to eat, and it’s not just in the morning. Suddenly, my love for vegetables had turned into a shuddering hatred. I recently tried to get my three year old niece to eat a piece of broccoli. She’s generally pretty cheerful, but explained very earnestly — No. That is DISGUSTING. Which I thought was pretty funny — but now I relate in a very real way. While dinner is normally the reason I get out of bed in the morning, eating past late afternoon is now a dicey proposition. The joy I take in eating has been temporarily quelled. Extinguished might be a more apt word.
Nevertheless, we’re delighted. We might soon have a supertaster in the family! Or if not a supertaster, at least someone who will be able to give a resounding answer “YES” to question number 5.
Church Avenue Chomp 