Do you know what’s worse than being on a diet?  Being a chow-hound on a diet.

I have put my love affair with food — on hold.

Do not be confused.  My life is about more than food.  It’s mostly about good food — really good.  No, I mean really good food.  Food that involves going to the cash machine, and driving in my car to far flung places to taste wonders not found in my own neighborhood — for which they never accept credit.

For a few months (after visiting Japan) — I was on the hunt for the best Ramen in L.A.  This search involved reading the Chowhound.com board for hours and trying different shops — one in West L.A., one in the Valley, another in Little Tokyo.  For just under seven bucks and a twenty mile or so trip — the ramen is not to be believed — thick home made noodles, heavenly pork broth.

Then, there are random searches that continue — the perfect french bistro, the best crepe, the best combination of crunchy/spicy bi bim bap, the perfect pupusa.

I will not drive to visit people.  I barely drive to shop — preferring to order on-line.  But one hint of a new Salvadoran hole in the wall or a new Thai place that serves really spicy food (no sickeningly sweet Pad Thai for me) — then I’ll get up before dawn or go out after midnight and drive, and drive, and drive.

And yes, I have made that middle of the night trip to Canter’s for the perfect matzo ball soup — or to Solley’s for just the smell of a Brooklyn bakery.

But I soldier on dieting — because maybe it was too much of a good thing.  My forays have included more fish and vegetables and a lot less rice.

I haven’t yet figured out how I’m going to balance a new svelte me (now down to 157) with whispers of the best new taco truck in my ears — but I’m going to try.

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