This past week (during my baking frenzy) I wanted quick, but still delicious, meals. On Thursday night I had the idea of portobello burgers for dinner with chips. It was just one of those days where I wanted to live it up and indulge in not-so healthy fare. The burger was kind of meh. It definitely would have benefited from roasting longer, and the bun, when it cooled, did not taste that great. I overcompensated by drenching my burger in mustard and ketchup and, yes, salting it. I also thought, hey, maybe some chips on my burger will jazz it up. Heck, chips off my burger (ie: simply eaten plain) will jazz up this meal too.
Umm...yeaaaaahhhhh, so my burger really looked nothing like this. The sprouts did not go (they taste better paired with a portobello when in wrap form and with pesto). Photoshop this image in your head, doused in condiments and mushed potato chips. Disgusting? Kinda.
So I chomped. And chomped. And chomped on chips until I made my mom take them away from me. I was slightly buzzed, which gave my eyeballs, taste buds and brain an inaccurate read of my stomach, which was full beyond contentment.
Three days later and I'm almost back to 100 percent. In that time, though, I did not feel good. I felt as if potato chips were just congregating in my intestine, overstaying their welcome for the sole purpose of making me feel miserable. I think it will be a while before I eat chips again...or a portobello burger, which really was just not that good. I'll stick to my stir-frys.