The Zen of Hospital Food

There was no way that the food was going to be edible or that I -- a food writer with high standards -- was going to eat it.
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As soon as I found out that I'd be spending three full days in the hospital, I worried about the food. Surely, my husband would have to bring in meal reinforcements from the outside. There was no way that the food was going to be edible or that I -- a food writer with high standards -- was going to eat it.

Then, the first menu brochure arrived -- demurely placed beside the cup of fruit cocktail on my first meal tray. My job: to circle selections from a myriad of categories to compose my breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. Each modular meal averaged seven categories, including "Great Beginnings" (my husband and I got a kick out of that moniker) and "Condiments."

For instance, lunch might consist of a tossed salad, manicotti with tomato sauce, a slice of whole wheat bread with butter, skim milk, hot green tea, and cool grapes. Breakfast? A bowl of bran flakes, skim milk, a hard-boiled egg, a fruit plate with plain yogurt, and hot tea with lemon.

As the hours dragged on, I found myself enjoying the selection process. As one nurse pointed out, you're so bored at the hospital that any reading material seems fascinating, regardless of its subject. Furthermore, wielding my pen, I had a bit of control, freedom -- something lacking while you're confined to a hospital bed. Maybe I had no choice about whether or not to get an intravenous antibiotic administered every eight hours, but I did get to decide whether or not to opt for orange marmalade with my toast. Did I want to be decadent and choose a slice of orange cake for dessert, or should I stick with diet hot cocoa or a pear? What condiments did I fancy with my tuna salad sandwich? Mustard, perhaps? (Granted, I was on the "regular" diet, and so had several options.)

Also surprising, the elemental food was pretty tasty (a credit to Greenwich Hospital). I looked forward to each meal and my body felt nourished -- the latter often not the case for my usual fare. On the way home from the hospital the other day, I even picked up some non-artisanal whole wheat bread. Who would have thought?

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