Real Adults Eat Chickpeas

5 Sep

This week, I stuck a toe into the doorway of adulthood. Well, maybe two toes…

Yes, I am officially moved into my FIRST apartment at BU! I have a kitchen with a refrigerator and a stove and glasses and cups and plates and a Keurig and utensils and mugs and…NO IDEA WHAT THE EFF I AM DOING.

As it turns out, having the ability to cook – aka living in close proximity to a kitchen – is not the same thing as knowing how to cook. Or to grocery shop. Or to organize a kitchen. In fact, all of these things are really quite different from each other.

When my roommate Felicia and I walked into Whole Foods at the start of the week, we were super excited. Produce! Organic yogurt! Whole grains! Kale! (As if. The day I eat a kale chip will be the day a kale chip turns into a cookie and jumps into my mouth while I’m sleeping.) We had visions of eating like celebrities; I saw myself saying, “I eat a lot of kale and wheat and grass… And sometimes a little dirt, because it’s natural. I pay attention to what I put into my body…” 

The “celebrity diet” seemed so appealing until we realized the only thing we could afford to buy in Whole Foods was the dirt on the floor from people’s shoes. So we took our empty cart, walked around the store like we had a secret, and then put our cart back and ran toward Shaw’s…because Mama didn’t raise no fool.

At Shaw’s, we procured TWO carts and decided to wander up and down every single aisle to get “the basics.” You’d think that after 20 plus years of stuffing my face I would know what I like and what I don’t, and what I consider “basics.”  But shopping like an adult is not that easy! You can’t just say, “Wow, I love cheese puffs! Mom, can we pleaseeee get them?” and then throw them into the cart. (Although I was totally saying this to myself as I shopped.) Adults need to be their own moms. Adults – especially those in college – need to think about cost and necessity and survival. And that means looking for sale items.

Apparently, telling me something is “on sale” is the same thing as telling me that THIS ENTIRE STORE WILL ERUPT IN FLAMES AND YOUR PUPPY WILL BE STOLEN IF YOU DON’T BUY THIS SALE ITEM. 88 cents for a box of pasta? LET’S BUY SEVEN. 10 yogurts for $10? WHY NOT MAKE IT 30 YOGURTS FOR $30? I NEED DAIRY FOR MY BONES! And don’t even get me started on the chickpeas… TWO CANS FOR $2??? LET’S BUY THEM ALL!

For the record, I DON’T EVEN EAT CHICKPEAS. But did I buy them? Yes. Did I buy them instead of remembering to buy chicken and milk? Obviously. Because ADULTS LIKE CHICKPEAS.

Needless to say, our cart was filled to the brim before we realized my deluxe RV was still in the shop and we would have to walk home. So, I had to settle for ten yogurts and two boxes of pasta, and we had to walk home carrying everything on our backs like mules trekking up the stairs on Santorini… except it was dark and the cast from Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants was nowhere to be found…

So that was the shopping portion…and to think, I didn’t even get cheese puffs!

Then came the cooking of the food. When we got home at 10pm, we were STARVING. It was time to make our first meal in our apartment! 

Here’s how the scene unfolded: how about some beans and sautéed mushrooms and spinach? Yum, sounds great! Let’s just turn on the stove and…wait, why does the kitchen REEK of gas? No, don’t breathe it in! Or do, I mean, if you’re into that kind of thing… but seriously, how does this stove work? Call everyone we know and ask how to work the stove! Wait, hold on, my grandparents have a stove like this – I think it’s a gas stove! That must be it. We need a lighter! Where can we buy a lighter?? 7/11! Let’s go.

*Sophie and Felicia walk to the 7/11 down the street in search of a lighter. 7/11 does not sell lighters. It is now 11pm.*

11pm and still no food. Will we die here? Will my last meal be the crumb I found in my shirt this morning and decided to eat because hey, YOLO? Will I ever get to use the whisk I bought at Target the other day?

These were the questions I had as we marched through South Campus looking for a lighter.

And then: I struck GOLD! As I reached into my purse to find a piece of gum – which, at this point, was the equivalent of a Thanksgiving dinner – I found a box of matches in my purse. Have I EVER carried matches in my purse? NO! Do I even know how to light a match without burning myself and possibly those around me? NO! But for some reason, I’d decided to swipe a box of matches from a restaurant I went to last week. One could say it was a Christmas miracle.

When we finally made it back to the apartment, Felicia approached the stove and started lighting matches. But there weren’t any flames! How could this be? We started throwing matches into the coils until we were out of matches. And still, NO FLAMES! Maybe the stove is broken? Maybe the matches were bad? (Because some types of fire are more conducive to stove lighting than other types of fire…) 

And that’s when the stove coils turned red. RED. The color of shame and failure… and also the color of a normal, well functioning, ELECTRIC STOVE.

By this point, it was almost midnight, and I was DONE.

Here is a picture of Felicia’s dinner:


Please note the colorful mix of vegetables and the expertly sautéed mushrooms.

And here is a picture of my dinner:


Please note the expert slicing of the banana and the delicate placement of the blueberries atop a hearty bowl of cereal.

So this is college cooking? I’m going to need a bigger bowl.










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