What are the limits of human endurance? How far can the body be pushed before it breaks? Should womankind even dare to deviate from that which is predestined: a diet of caviar, micro-greens, and parmesan frites opposite a cooked-to-perfection fillet mignon prepared by an authentic French chef in a chic but cozy atmosphere? I wanted to answer these questions for myself, which is why I decided to go an entire week without truffle fries.
The first day sans truffle fries was pretty easy, because it is not all that unusual for me to not eat truffle fries for one day. For instance, sometimes I order Lavender Duck Three Ways or something. Today I learned that it’s okay to not eat truffle fries every day. I resolved to expand my diet to any food prepared with truffles or truffle oil (not just fries!). After all, that’s how the other half lives. Empathy has always been very important to me.
I finally got around to telling my friends about my no-truffle fry diet. I mean, it was bound to come up anyway at Wednesday brunch, when we ordered our omelets (no side of truffle fries for me!). They gave me a standing ovation right there in the restaurant, which was a little embarrassing, but everyone at Soho House is pretty much like family to me at this point so I didn’t mind. Deep down, though, I felt a rumbling in my digestive system. “TRUFFLESSSSS,” it said.
Day three was the hardest for me, both emotionally and gastronomically, as the edible class signifiers on which I relied gradually began to fall away. A dog tried to pee on me. A lady on the street asked me if I knew where Au Bon Pain was. I thought about ending it all by going to Chipotle, but I pulled myself together and ended up suppering at a lesser-known sushi restaurant in the village that had a tangential connection to that movie Jiro Dreams Of Sushi or something. It was whatever, but my body was craving savory truffles.
Friday!! I treated myself to some truffle fries, because TGIF, right? I’ll hop back on the bandwagon tomorrow, though.
I woke up and immediately vomited. When you don’t eat truffle fries, your organs get all out of balance. Of course, people always say that eating the wrong things can have adverse affects on your health and energy levels, but I didn’t really understand how food not prepared sous vide by a Michelin-starred chef can impact your system until I went without. Wow, I thought. Wow.
Delirium set in. I mistook the doorman for a large tower of truffle fries. Also my mother, when she dropped in for tea. And the Empire State Building. And a bowl of Cheerios, which I then ate (imagine my horror!). I began to worry that my little experiment was getting out of hand.
The thought of truffle fries buoyed me throughout the day, but around 4PM I was hit with an unexpected, staggering hunger. I needed the truffle fries, and I needed them NOW. “FRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIES!!!” I screamed, tearing off my Chanel overcoat, and running all the way from 8th St. to TriBeCa for no reason. I’ve never felt such pure adrenaline. I was a mama bear, and the fries were my babies! I collapsed on the doorstep of my building and my doorman (who knew of my plight since I’d tried to eat him the day before) carried me up the stairs and revived me with drops of truffle oil from an eyedropper as though I were a baby bird.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this experience, it’s that you can never assume that someone’s life is easy. Going without truffle fries was the hardest thing I’ve had to do in my mid-twenties (the hardest part of my early twenties was shopping at Ikea, ugh!). Anyway, my doorman and I are married now, and one thing’s for sure: We’re never going this long without truffle fries ever again.