I bought $17 worth of chocolate last night from Trader Joe's with the mindset that I was "stocking up." Three dollars and ninety-nine cents of it was actually vanilla extract, but I bought that only so I could make chocolate chip cookies.
The only granulated sugar that exists in my house is in packets, from Starbucks, which will make it difficult to make chocolate chip cookies.
When I made falafel from scratch for the first time the other night (it's easy, though the yield is quite large), I didn't have cumin, so I used garam masala. Now I have a dozen or so frozen falafel balls that taste slightly like cinnamon.
Also in the falafel-making experience, I didn't have any flour (again, this is making the chocolate chip cookie thing next to impossible) or breadcrumbs, so I whirled some oatmeal in the food processor and made "oat flour." It tasted totally fine. I was proud of my innovation.
I eat things I don't really like because I don't like to be wasteful.
One time when I was in college, some boys who lived down the hall and I were coming home from a frat party and decided we missed those old school lunches of sloppy joes. In fact, I had never once eaten a sloppy joe, but I did like the boneless ribs that were served on Wednesdays. We went to the grocery store at 3 o'clock in the morning and bought a can of sloppy joe. We bought buns, too. We took everything back to someone's room, set up a toaster oven, toasted the rolls, found a can opener, and prepared to eat sloppy joes. This is how I learned that canned "sloppy joes" just means the sauce, to which you are supposed to add meat. But we had our hearts set on it, so we dipped the toasted buns into what was essentially tinned catsup and called it a night. At least we weren't wasteful.
If I go on and on about how bad something is for you, I inevitably get a craving for it within 24 hours. One time I told my friend how I hadn't eaten a muffin in years because muffins are nothing more than cake -- in fact, they are worse than cake! They are buttery mounds of glutton! The next day I ate a cranberry muffin and it was so good.
I don't keep jam in the house because I will eat it all, an entire jar of it, in less than five days. That is not an exaggeration.
Sometimes I get drunk on food. It only really happens when I'm alone. It happens when I get really hungry and then eat something yummy, but not enough of it, so then I want to eat more, but I don't just want to eat more, I get tipsy and light-headed and start coasting around the house and grazing on food, like when you get drunk at a party and eat all the chips and salsa. Then I feel drunk and say to myself, "What the hell?" and realize that I haven't had a drop of alcohol all night.
I love coupons, even though I hardly ever use them. I think they make me seem cheap, though, so I try not to let people see my stash of them.
Another college story: A girl who lived down the hall from me in the dorms one time asked me to teach her how to cook. She said, "I want to learn how to cook. I don't know how to make anything." I said, "Okay, what do you want to learn to make?" She said, "I don't know." I said, "Just pick one thing for us to start with." She said, "I don't know." "Well," I said, "you have to give me at least some idea. What kinds of foods do you like to eat at home?" She said, "Chicken. But I'm scared. I've never actually seen or touched raw chicken meat. I've seen it in the store, but it grosses me out, so I never go near it." I said, "What do you mean you've never seen it? You've eaten it at your home, but you never saw it?" She said, "My mom never really let us in the kitchen with her." I honestly started to think that this girl grew up with a housekeeper and cook and was lying to me about her mother cooking. "I bet her mother walks around in fur coats all day long," I told myself. After that conversation, she bought some canned soup and a few boxes of pasta, and I tried to not make eye contact with her from that point on. I pity her to this day.