My comfort food is, alas, food.

If reduced to describe something that has some childhood feel good attached to it, I offer up farfalle (bow tie) noodles, mixed with a humongous dollop of butter and cottage cheese, then salted. Probably was offered this fare, for the first time, somewhere around the age of 6. It was, I suspect, the eastern European version of mac and cheese. 

I have never actually chosen, in my adult life, to eat it again. Describe it, yes, prepare it, nope. 

My need for comfort food doesn't include making (as in cooking) anything, and certainly not cleaning up afterward. Really, what comfort do you get in that? Ripping  open a bag of something, that works.

And, I, like everyone I know who soothes themselves with comfort food, feels anything but comforted. Oh, okay, maybe during the five minutes during consumption. Upon the last chew and swallow that euphoria is quickly spelled by feelings of  guilt and self loathing. 

To be repeated, nonetheless, often.

I thought that a scientific explanation of the reason we demand carb laden things would be helpful. Perhaps this over the top, out of control behavior shouldn't be seen as a character flaw. If it has a physiological explanation, wouldn't that make us feel better?

It does.

What the carbs consumed appear to do is to increase the level of serotonin in the brain which results in a better state of mind or mood. (Clearly, no one found it necessary to figure out how long this feeling is sustainable). But, there is more. Serotonin has also been deemed as an important chemical when you are falling in love, as well as being found to be increased in obsessive compulsive disorders. 

I guess that means eat whatever you want, hug your honey, wash your hands. Repeat as necessary. 

Happy days are here again.

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