No fewer than five people have told me how amazing Tomato Land is. That’s quite impressive A) for Tallahassee and B) considering I don’t know that many people. So when I found myself starving, on my way home and about to pass right by, I made the split-second decision, flipped on my right turn indicator and parked in their tiny lot. Spending probably an inappropriate amount of time looking at their menu, I was asked twice by an enthusiastic employee if I was ready to order. My problem was that they are not very paleo friendly. Fried okra, fried tomatoes, locally sourced cheeses, artisan breads. Drool. I considered ordering a salmon sandwich sans bread, but went instead with sides: sweet potato fries, roasted root vegetables and collard greens.
Very proud of my paleo meal (which wasn’t strictly paleo – the fries had a delectable dusting of sugar [like something a fairy/crack dealer would sprinkle atop your food] which I half-heartedly knocked off and the roasted root veggies had blue potatoes which were picked out after I unmasked them [by taste, of course]), I got back in the car, unclasped the styrofoam lid and was slapped in the face with this:
Immediately, the voice inside my head spoke out:
“Oh my god, I am going to eat that.”
“Okay, I’m going to eat half that.”
“Who would know?” “No one would know.”
“I’ll have one bite.”
“Are you kidding, with the ‘one bite?'”
And so the bargaining began:
“Stop thinking about it.”
“Just eat the rest of your food and pray you’re too full for it.”
“You cannot eat that.”
“You can smell it and have one bite.”
“Here’s the dealio: no bite, smell okay…and one lick.”
“I’ll lick it.”
That’s where we stood. I snapped the photo so I could proudly blog once again about my amazing willpower. I finished my super yummy lunch and settled on smelling, but not eating the muffin. We looked each other in the eye, I picked him up, broke him in half and as the fluffy goodness inside exposed itself, I caught scent of sweet corn and butter. In other words: perfection, in the shape of a muffin.
My resolve began to crumble:
“I could have just one bite.”
“I wouldn’t have to tell anyone.”
“No one would ever find out.”
“JUST STUFF IT IN YOUR MOUTH! QUICK!”
“This isn’t a horrible way to flex. One little, buttery, golden corn muffin.”
Luckily, I have the blog to hold me accountable. I knew the ensuing guilt would prevent me from burying my corn muffin secret deep inside and I would eventually have to reveal that I fraternized with the enemies: grains. Thank you, blog (and by blog, I mean blog readers), for making me responsible for my actions. The few times that I have eaten out since beginning paleo, I have been able to specialize my order. No bread, no potatoes, no cheese. That didn’t really feel like a sacrifice because I never had to see the offenders doing their seductive dance on my plate, so very close to my fork. Today was different. I saw him, he saw me and I had to tell him to his little corn face: I don’t want to eat you. This corn muffin brought me to the cusp of my paleo faithfulness but I am proud to say I kept my balance and both feet remain firmly on the non-grain-eating ground. Cavemen rejoice!