I love when people talk about "conscious eating," because I kind of just zone out and naturally picture its logical opposite: unconscious eating.
This is hilarious because I imagine a person in some kind of a Lunesta haze, using a cherry Blistex as a utensil to eat capers, or trying to feed a party sub to somebody who has just been rendered senseless by a frying pan. Ha ha ha. See? Funny.
Also, because people eat and make hilarious things when they're very drunk. If sleep is the cousin of death, drunkenness feels up that cousin, and then goes and dips a barely unfrozen Eggo in apricot jam.
If you have never been so wasted that you have drunk cooked, please A) pat yourself on the back for being better than the rest of us, and B) watch Hanna Hart's beautiful web series, My Drunk Kitchen. (Seriously -- she may be one of the funniest people alive.)
But if you haaaaaaave: then let's talk about it. Remember Sad Foods? Drunk Food is sort of like Sad Food but with an element of ingenuity: like if the cast of "Chopped" were first forced to get absolutely blitzed on Milkwaulkee's Best and shots of Captain Morgan. Sad Foods are what you eat for comfort. Drunk Food is what you eat because it's THERE.
I was at the apex of drunk eating in college, when I did the bulk of my serious binge drinking. I used to get a jug of Carlo Rossi -- the big one -- and just walk around with it all night, swigging like I was wearing some kind of invisible Union Suit. Some nights, I would finish the whole thing and blow on the empty jug while doing bluegrass versions of Radiohead songs. I was intensely popular.
I was also incredibly broke, which is an important element of drunk eating. Rich people can order P'Zones, or have their butlers make them flapjacks. Broke drunks are forced to forage like cirrhotic raccoons.
Even if you PLAN your drunk food, it's probably going to be pretty bad. I was so absurdly impoverished in school that I would steal copiously from the dining hall (mandatory meal plan), but because I am a bad thief and a nervous person, I would just kind of grab things willy-nilly and then later pick hoodie lint off a blueberry bagel and a handful of raw spinach.
When I did have a couple nickels to rub together, I would go to the scary ALDI or the Price Chopper and try to get the most bang for my buck by cobbling together price club items that could serviceably be mixed together by someone in a borderline blackout without causing danger to herself. This might be a day old baguette and a block of store-brand extra sharp cheddar, meant to last me for an entire week of blurry, must-eat-or-will-die 4 AMs.
Things got even more exciting when I moved out and had roommates. We were all stunningly broke -- I was "Writing a Novel" and working part time as customer service rep at a catalog that sold candy, compression hose and vibrators to the extremely old. I think the median household income in that, my First Real Apartment, was "12."
The tacit agreement was that anything left in the fridge or cupboard without a name and below a certain price point was fair game.
Because I desperately wanted to keep slim at the time, I would never buy anything but vegetables, pickles and mustard, which inevitably led to me getting into a state of drunkenness I like to call "Eatie Sedgwick," because I would be so hungry and hypoglycemic that I would inevitably light something on fire in my quest to jam something warm and carby down my gullet.
Here were some things I ate when I was mega drunk:
- somebody's Velveeta Shells and Cheese mixed with canned tuna and ketchup
- frozen hash browns with maple syrup
- cottage cheese with salad dressing, sesame seeds, and raisins
- peanut butter microwaved to liquid and eaten with saltines
- my roommates. :(
While I won't say that I've never drunk-eaten as an adult, I at least ended up becoming more of a prepared drunk chef. My friend claims that you should always keep frozen corn, salt and pepper on hand when you know you're going out for a night of carousing, because it's a relatively healthy and easy-to-prepare drunk food that prevents trying to make cinnamon rolls at 3 AM, or drunk ordering Domino's and then going to sleep. (They hate that, at Domino's.)
Now you guys go! Bonus points for more ingredients.
*(especially after I was fired from being an R.A. for basically being the worst R.A. in the existence of bad R.A.s. Here's a lesson about Julieanne: never give her any kind of authority over anybody else. She will use it to sleep with people.)