Confessions: Airport Food

Returned late last night from an amazing weekend visiting friends and scouting a wedding location in South Dakota.  Our travel dates corresponded, amazingly enough, with the running of the 3rd Annual Nemo Outhouse Race, and as always with the SD*TFA crew, the fun was out of control.  I'd post photos, but A) most of them were inappropriate and B) none of them had much to do with eating whole foods.  


I DID take some photos of things I ate this weekend, and this post is going to be something of a confessional.


In my own apartment, with my own utensils, my nearby Whole Foods, and all the time in the world (read: fifteen minutes between classes) I can cook anything I want and eating unprocessed is easy. 

When dashing through the airport at 6:00 AM on an empty stomach, it's not so easy.  

Hence:

That would be a Caribou Coffee dark chocolate latte.  God knows what's in it.  But it tasted like HEAVENNNNNNNNN.

I like this photo that Matt took; it captures the voices of angels I heard while sipping on that. 

Over the weekend, we ate out a lot, but mostly at places whom I would trust to use largely fresh, local, whole ingredients.  For example, a bowl of granola and fruit at Bully Blends tea and coffee shop, accompanied by a pitcher of whole milk:   

In perfect honesty, though, I didn't alter my orders or ask the server about what went into the dishes I wanted this weekend.  I just ate.

And drank:

  

You can't tell me those sprinkles are whole, even if everything else in the mug was (which it decidedly wasn't).  

And the return journey was worse.  We woke at 5:00 AM to reach the airport by our early flight time, only to discover that the flight had been delayed, then delayed again, then delayed again.  We didn't reach our connection in Minneapolis until 6:00, and didn't get home to Chicago until almost 10:00.  All of which meant that we dined on airport food all day.

... for breakfast...

... for lunch ...

And for dinner: the camera was out of batteries by this point, but Matt got a Wolfgang Puck margherita pizza, and I took one of their cold Caesar salads.  Didn't have much of the dressing or croutons, because I was feeling so disgusting from all the junk.  All the same, I don't feel like I can quite count it on the unprocessed side of my weekend equation.  

Several people, when I've told them about my yearlong challenge, have asked how I feel: have I noticed a substantial change for the better in my body?  I've been saying "yes," not out of any real conviction that my eating has improved my body image or health, but rather because I've been generally feeling good and healthy, and may as well attribute it to the eating regime as to anything else.  Coming out of this weekend, though, I can tell a major difference.  I feel decidedly draggy, heavy, bloated, and lethargic.  It's really astounding how a couple days off the wagon can so seriously impact your body.  And it makes me more determined and eager than ever to stick to my challenge. 

Anyways, this is sum of my travel confessions.  I'm back home and more ready than ever to cook and eat the kinds of meals I've been cooking and eating.  

And no more Caribou for a long, long time.