Just One Garlic Knot Please.

Satisfying a craving for a fountain soda at my local pizza joint last night led to stares and odd looks from the counter staff. While waiting for my cup of sugarless dirt water I spied a tray piled with the Italian contribution to gastronomic heaven:The Garlic Knot. My mouth filled with saliva and the taste of that doughy ball of bliss. I had to have one and I wanted only one. That would be enough for me.


A month ago 5 knots would have found their way into my stomach, but a photo taken at the "Weird Al" concert reminded me of the mission statement formed 3 years ago. I am not meant to be overweight my whole life;I am meant to be an athlete. Without expunging my entire back story I'll write the highlights, I was quite fat, once, topping out at 230 lbs. Three years ago I dropped 90 pounds had some skin cut away, landing at 140 with a flat tummy. Over the past two years I gained-admitting this for the first time-35 back. Ok, Ok it's really more like 40 lbs. Stop badgering me! In essence, my pea-sized subconscious couldn't process the skinny, but now we(me and my subconscious) are ready. We deserve the lone size 6 Banana Republic's draped in the closet.

Which brings back me to the topic of that perfect piece of crunchy ecstasy;I believe in moderation, not outright denial. Forbid that which you love, be it chocolate, potato chips, or liver pate(blech) and you will crack. And the breakdown will be pretty ugly. Anyone recall Kate's Secret, the disease of the week movie from the eighties in which Meridith Baxter played a bulimic. Moderation is the key. I know that a jar of Nutella does not last long in the cabinet, but out in the world I am less likely to go all Lifetime movie on a chocolate mousse cake.

So, the asymmetrical sphere of Garlicky Goodness lay nestled between it's friends calling to me. I stood tall, "May I have one Garlic Knot please?"
The men behind the counter cocked their heads about to reply in the negative. I offered to pay for an order of five and they could give the others away. The owner, who has made me many vegetarian gyro's dripping with tsatsiki, told the other "Just give her one!" He grabbed the foil, snatched TWO orbs and opened the oven.
"It's okay, you don't have to heat it," I offered. He handed me the package, his look saying, "Get out of the store crazy dog lady."


More to come on this story. Stay tuned!

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