Sometimes, no matter how utterly delicious something is, after a few days of eating it you just want something else. And right now, for me, that’s bread. Or even processed carbs in general.
I’ve been in Paris for four and a bit days now, and I’ve had so much bread, and pastries, and even pasta, that all I really want right now is a big bowl of veggies. Dark green and orange. That’s what I want.
It makes me sad really. I love bread. I love French bread even more. But I think I’m close to spoiling it for myself, and I don’t have to stop eating it to get the taste back like I did for devon and tomato sauce sandwiches in primary school.
This is a lesson that I’ve learnt several times over now, and it’s one I want to maybe try and share, even though I know it won’t stick for me, nor probably for any of you. Pace yourself. Even if you find an unlimited well of 85c baguettes like I did, just hold yourself back a little. Don’t eat it for every meal. Eat things that are very different to it in between.
Human beings need variety.