I used to love to cook. I was good at it. And it was truly source of pride for me that I was the head cook in my household. I was 12.

Back story: My mother had just taken a job as a dean at a small local college and this was her (very smart) way of keeping her latch-key kid busy. Pre-microwave, pre-packaged food, I arrived home at 3:00 and was to have a wholesome meal on the table by 5:30.

BACK-back story: This was back when parenting was more about making kids trustworthy than protecting them.

Feeding oneself in a healthy manner is an important skill. I am learning to be nomadic again and eating healthy has presented a problem.

I would much rather pop into the local pub, sit at the bar and order a cocktail followed by an appetizer, (another cocktail…) and perhaps a meal. The bartender needs to be chatty, the drinks and food need to be local and all three need to add color to my experience of that place.

This was not a problem when I wandered 30 years ago. But now, at 60, I am TRULY what I eat. It shows up in my cholesterol. And on my butt.

So here’s the problem: How does one eat healthy while traveling full time?

What fun is turning down an enormous homemade biscuit with strawberry rhubarb jam for un-buttered toast and a bowl of strawberries?

This was the month I was supposed to take back control over my diet. The place I am renting is owned by a woman who cooks. I mean really cooks. Every tool one could want is in the kitchen is here. Plus a spare.

AND there are multiple, wonderful farmer’s markets just moments away. There is NO EXCUSE for not cooking here.

Yesterday I cleaned out the refrigerator. Veggies and fruits straight into the bin. Sinful.

“Just make healthy choices, Sara”. I know. I know…

But after a day of hiking or urban exploration I get hungry. Really hungry. I like to find a small café, full of locals. A place where the café patrons provide entertainment, where the local culture is reflected in the menu. And when I find these places (and I always do), a tattooed woman will hand me a menu. And BOOM!

Brisket, IN MY FACE!

Chicken-friend bacon, IN MY FACE!

Local lager, hand crafted cocktails, ALL IN MY FACE!

I know I should be able to turn my back on local specialties, on happy hour deals, on pizza THE SIZE OF A DESK.

I should be thinking of health. And of salad. Of club soda with lime. Of lean cuts of sauce less meats and plainly steamed vegetables. I should say a firm “NO” to all potato based foods.

I should absolutely NOT be experimenting with BBQ pork and kimchi burgers or even looking at homemade ice cream sandwiches with freshly baked chocolate cookies and locally made fresh mint ice cream.

Right? RIGHT?!

Just tell me what to do, Dear Reader.

As a seasoned human, this is a true dilemma for me. I need your help. I know how to manage my health. I know how to cook. And I am choosing not to.

Yes, I am weak. Very weak. But I have some delicious stories to tell….