What I eat in a day (off)
Pretending that I’m being interviewed by Harper’s Bazaar on Youtube, or something like that.
Hello and welcome back to Five Things I Ate! This week’s newsletter is a bit different. In an effort to share a little bit more about myself, I’m giving you a glimpse of one day in my life. Check out past posts here, and please follow my Instagram @fivethingsiate.
Monday
I’m off from work today for Juneteenth— a much needed break after a very packed weekend. For breakfast I have some Magical coffee I made overnight, with half and half, cinnamon, and honey, plus a leftover piece of torta pasqualina from the UWS greenmarket that I reheat in the toaster oven. It’s delicious.
I have a contortion photoshoot planned in the afternoon today, and that determines when and how I eat. In addition to my day job as a data journalist, and food writing, I’ve been moonlighting as a circus performer — or at least trying to put together photos and videos to submit to venues. I started taking classes at a circus arts center last fall, in an attempt to pull myself out of a major depressive slump, and it completely changed my life. At 30 years old, after a major surgery and a lifetime of injuries (both mental and physical, thanks to a decade-long career as a rhythmic gymnast), and with a stressful day job, I never thought I could become a performance artist. But I sure will try, with my whole heart.
A lot of my work involves extreme backbending or being upside down, so it’s crucial to not eat anything an hour before starting. But I’ve also learned the hard way that if I don’t have enough calories, I’ll plummet, mentally and physically. It’s hot outside, which is perfect for me (lizard weather keeps my muscles warm) so I drink a Pocari sweat — which is maybe the most delicious electrolyte drink on planet earth. (Of course, I got it from TESO Life, which is where most of my snack budget goes.) I also pack another way less tasty electrolyte drink and two protein bars, both of which are not worth naming, unless I want to publicly shame them.
The shoot goes really well even though I’m too anxious throughout it to eat anything. Afterwards, I meet my partner in Central Park and we walk to Amélie, a little French bistro, on the Upper West Side for a quick dinner before we head out to the Brooklyn botanical garden for a concert. We order a watermelon gazpacho, steamed mussels, a fava bean and ricotta toast, and a roasted chèvre salad, all to share. I feel like the French are famous for wine and pastries and smoking too many cigarettes (all of which the Italians do better, IMO), but what they really should be known for is making good salads. Chèvre salad is my favorite French dish and I order it at every wine bar. I try not to drink every day of the weekend (or in this case, long weekend), but I cave and get a glass of crisp white wine. (I am very glad I do.) Everything is exceedingly delicious and I eat it all. I make a note to go there again, where we’re in less of a rush.
At the concert, I fall asleep on the grass under the cherry trees in the esplanade.
Until next time,
Soph
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