Growing up, we Plunketts were a fast food family.
In fact, one of our hallowed religious traditions involves fast food.
At one point, we lived six houses from Taco Bell and running for the border was a favored pastime. One Easter, we were low on funds and time, so we went off to Taco Bell for a quick Easter lunch. We were the only people in the restaurant but it was one of our better Easter lunches. Our family maintained that tradition for many years. It’s a good reminder of how things were and the constant renewal of life.

My mother is a great cook. Self-taught, she figured out how to make fantastic pasta dishes and her chicken enchiladas and albondigas soup is to die for. Whenever she could cook dinner, she will. Even now, weeks before I’m set to arrive for a visit west, my mother texts to ask what I want to eat while I’m staying with my parents.

Dad is an expert omelet-flipper. Really, it’s pretty impressive. I have yet to master that skill; hence the constant scrambles for breakfast.

Sometimes (actually, it was every and often), he mixed up his spices, putting poultry seasoning on toast and putting ginger on well, everything. He’s also a fan of chocolate pudding and potato chips, together. In one bite.

I guess that’s what happens when times change, but values don’t. (Sorry, inside joke.)

Otherwise, we ate fast food, a lot. Both my parents worked long hours in our middle-middle class upbringing in the quintessential suburban neighborhood in California, which predicated on lots and lots of fast food.

The High School Athletic Wall of Fame is located at the McDonald’s on Woodruff and Del Amo. Allegedly, One of the first McDonald’s is up Lakewood Avenue in Downey, it’s art deco signage still in use.

After church on Sundays and youth services on Wednesdays, my friends and I were either at Taco Bell, In ‘N Out (God Bless the Double Double!) or Fuddruckers. Our pastor’s signature line to encourage fellowship was, “Now, everyone go out and have a cheeseburger!” We Evangelicals were big into literalism, so cheeseburgers it was.

Mind you, this is the 90s, before Starbucks went public and the coffee shops started popping up all over the place. In college, our group was at the Buck or the “holy sanctum” of coffee, Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf (I’ll provide the sacred and profane sermon regarding coffee shops another time).

Nevertheless, it was fast food that ruled the day.

I write the above noting that fast food restaurants have changed and continue to evolve. This was before Fast Food Nation, Food Inc and much of our growth in food awareness. Anyone who was a vegetarian, a vegan or god forbid, trying a paleo diet would have gotten stares or in the case of my childhood, the verses in Scripture about how it’s perfectly acceptable (thus Biblically mandated) to eat meat.

Also, it’s an indictment against our consumer industrial complex and how much of the fast food industry disenfranchises the poor, who can only afford fast food to get through the day. While it’s “cheaper” than most food, you don’t truly know how your food is made or produced. While it’s a good starting job for those entering the work force, it bumps corporate profits at the expense of employee health and well being.

What I want to focus on is process, specifically, the joy of cooking your own food.

For years, food preparation was a necessary evil

My cooking skills are elementary. My spaghetti sauce is well known among the circle of friends and former roommates. The Plunkett specialty is chicken and dressing. Chicken and dressing consists of chicken, sour cream, cream of chicken, dressing and Chinese noodles. Add butter, lots of butter, and there was the best I offer, food-wise.

The night work schedule added to the lack of time and convenience to cook. Partly my desire to get out of the newsroom for any moment (Rule #1 to work: Leave as often as possible!), it was a stop for fast food. In downtown, D.C. the options were Subway, pizza that is nothing close to being authentic, Cosi and Five Guys.

Fridays were reserved for Five Guys, so I ate fresh often. As you can see, my eating patterns weren’t the gold standard of healthy eating. My eating consisted of about 20% of my own cooking and 80% of eating out.

Everyone has his/her own reasons for how they eat and what they eat. In my instance, fast food was convenient but more so; it was a comfort and perhaps a sense of security. It buffers against the stress of the job and provided a sense of a home from which I am far away. Fast food also was an opt-out against a deep-rooted fear, the inability to take care of myself. I’m on my own and have grown past the typical bachelor stereotype of empty pizza boxes in the corner. (Now, it’s empty Whole Foods bags in the corner but I digress.) Too often, I allowed that perception to rule my life. If I don’t have anyone else to cook for, which should I put in the time and effort? No one is going to care, so why should I?
The biggest change in switching out was changing the default mode. As the majority of food decisions are automatic and semi-conscious, it takes mindful effort to adjust the process of eating. For me, it was addressing those fears head-on.
Three Christmases ago, my parents gave me Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything. That book saved my bacon. Two Christmases ago, my parents also got me a slow cooker and that has been my faithful friend and companion.

Now, I own a cask-iron skillet, a Dutch oven, some pots and pans and a steady stream of olive and coconut oils, cumin and pepper. While I enjoy a fine dining experience now and then, my food passions reside in finding hole in the walls and unlikely spots, a la Fast Gourmet (which was a heartbreak in not eating there multiple times a week).
Cooking is still a process, with bits of enjoyment and pleasure. Mostly, I appreciate the chance to make something I know I’ll enjoy. Fast, well, faster food is still an ongoing issue. It’s come to the point where the food ratio has flipped: I cook about 80% of my own food and eat out about 20% of the time.
To this day, I still eat Taco Bell for Easter lunch. It’s the only time in the year I’ll eat Taco Bell. As an adult, the tradition means more to me now than the food.

Sometimes, it takes a 99-cent burrito to celebrate renewal.

Let’s talk: How much does fast food dictate your eating habits? Is it a joy or a struggle? And any great fast food options that are healthy?