Josh Johnson Prefers to Eat Dinner in Bed

Growing up, Josh Johnson knew he had to eat the home-cooked jambalaya, gumbo, and blackened fish that his grandmother would prepare. “It wasn’t just about me,” he says. “It would also be an indictment on her cooking if I didn’t eat it.” Now, the touring comedian — who shares his sets on YouTube every Tuesday — weekly podcast host, and new on-air correspondent for the Daily Show (where he’s also been a writer for the past six years) sets alarms to remind himself to eat. Solo eating isn’t the same as the crawfish boils from home (“It has the same energy as a barbecue — you don’t really go and just eat by yourself”), but there are perks, like eating in bed and finding better-than-expected fruit plates in venues’ green rooms: “A fruit-and-cheese plate may not always come when you want it,” Johnson says, “but it’s always on time.”

Monday, June 3
I was in Atlanta, and I started my day with a particularly large Jason’s Deli Texas Style Spud. “Texas Style” already implies a challenge to eat as much as a whole family, so starting my day with a meal like this would have you think I’m a bigger man than I am.

“Eat your vegetables if you want to be big and strong” is something I can still hear my grandmother saying clearly in the back of my head whenever I sit down to have a meal without any greens. But I did eat my vegetables, and I am neither a big man nor a strong one. I’ve returned many jars of pickles to the grocery store rather than admit that I just couldn’t open them.

To say the potato was hefty wouldn’t do justice to the absolute behemoth that was laid into the to-go tray — barely fitting, with cheese and meats pressed against the lid as if they had been fighting for freedom the moment the container was clamped shut. As soon as I opened it, I was greeted with the aroma of barbecue beef, sauce, cheddar, and butter that would have made the Lone Star State proud.

As soon as I took the first bite, I burned my mouth. Burning your mouth at the beginning of the meal is one of life’s smallest tragedies. You can still feel the texture of the food that you know is delicious, but your taste buds are in a time-out.

Due to how hectic the day was, I didn’t get to, nor need to, eat again until dinnertime. I went with my family to the Cheesecake Factory. Cheesecake Factory stands out as one of the strongest models for what life in America is like. Here you are, ready and hungry, looking to be fulfilled, and what you find isn’t just opportunity and choice but so much choice that you’re frozen. Should I get the Tex-Mex egg rolls, the crispy crab bites, or roll the dice with the Buffalo Blasts? Should I be a doctor, an engineer, or roll the dice and become a comedian? It’s not the best metaphor, but I think you get what I mean.

In the end, I chose the crispy crab bites, the fresh-grilled salmon, and some broccoli and mashed potatoes on the side. I didn’t think there would be any room left in me after the Texas spud, but somehow I managed to make my grandmother proud with the broccoli.

Tuesday, June 4
My day started earlier than most. I had to be up at 4:15 a.m. I wasn’t even thinking about breakfast because to my knowledge the only way you’re thinking about food at 4 a.m. is if you are very, very drunk. Closer to 7 a.m., I took my first crack at chewing something. I was at the hospital, visiting a relative,and the only thing that looked even halfway delicious in the cafeteria was a cup of blueberries.

Before I knew it, lunchtime had arrived and the closest thing was Chick-fil-A, which I’ve been avoiding as much as possible. I may not be a nutritionist, but I’m suspicious of any food that is ready that quickly. I can appreciate convenience just as much as any other American, but the fact that I had not finished my sentence and my salad was already in hand gave me pause. I was also hesitant because for some reason I asked myself, “How is the salad still fresh?” I mean, where did this lettuce even come from?

For so long we’ve transported food in this country, and I for one had never bothered to ask, until I got to Chick-fil-A, how or why a salad that gets soggy within 15 minutes of you starting to eat it stays crisp all the way up until it is delivered to you. It makes me feel like my healthy choice is a scam.

I couldn’t get this out of my head as I chased down a lone cherry tomato with my fork. But the real question is: Do I even want to know? Would knowing the answer change the way that I eat or think about food, especially when I’m in a hurry? It’s questions like these that I push to the back of my mind and put in the compartment somewhere next to my grandmother’s demand for more vegetables.

For dinner, I had food from a place I’d never been before named Maggiano’s. It was one of the best meals I’d eaten all week (1) because of the food, which was great, and (2) because of where I ate it.

I was able to order the food and eat it in bed. There are some foods that simply aren’t made for bed eating, like soup — the risk of spilling, staining, or soaking in tomato soup is enough to get me out of bed and at a table — but the foods that are fit for the bed are a joy to eat in the most relaxed position possible. I enjoyed crab cakes, salmon with greens and potatoes, and a side of toast, while leaning up against a headboard. After spending most of the day at the hospital, it went perfectly with an episode of Reba.

Wednesday, June 5
I had a flight back to New York so I woke up early once again. Later than 4 a.m. but still too early to think about food. At the airport I grabbed some pretzels for the flight that would stay in my bag the entire time because I passed out as soon as the plane took off.

Once I landed and got home, I had one of my all-time favorite home meals: a salad. I know that it’s not the most exciting dish, but depending on what you put in it and how hungry you are when you have it, a salad can end up hitting the spot just as much as a home-cooked meal. The main reason I made the salad is because I can’t cook. Don’t get me wrong. I can warm things up. I can even sometimes put things together without burning or turning the ingredients into a disgusting mess, but I never lose confidence in my ability to make a delicious bowl of ingredients Mother Nature prepared beforehand.

For the salad, I chopped up some bell peppers and roasted chicken and grabbed a mix of greens including arugula, spinach, fennel, and baby kale. I also added some nuts with salt and pepper and a little bit of extra-virgin olive oil. It’s the kind of meal that makes you feel like you can work out even if you haven’t been to the gym in months. Once I’ve had a salad, especially a big one, I do get a little too full of myself. I’ll leave the house and see an ad for some cologne with a man that has no shirt and bulging muscles and think to myself, Yep I’ll be there in no time. I think it’s just another manifestation of my grandma’s voice except instead of making me feel guilty, it makes me look forward to the promise of being built like Jackie Robinson.

I didn’t get the chance to eat again until the evening. There’s a food truck in Williamsburg that has some of the best beef birria on planet Earth, and I have no problem fighting anyone who says otherwise. I grabbed three tacos, and each one was a separate but similar journey to a saucy heaven.

Thursday, June 6
I went into work and immediately ordered one of my favorites for lunch. Near the office, there are few places as good as Ponche Taqueria & Cantina. I got a chicken quesadilla and a beef taco. As soon as it arrived and I grabbed the first slice of quesadilla, in a scene fit for a movie, there was a string of cheese fighting to hang on to the rest no matter how hard I pulled. The flavor was fantastic, the portion was filling, and it was one of the best parts of my day.

Later at home, I made another salad before I recorded my podcast. It was the same salad as the day before, which was a great feeling because it was the first time during the week that I felt like I was being sustainable. There was something about using every last bit of each ingredient I had in stock that made me feel like I was really good at planning, even though it was just coincidence and meant I’d have to go out to buy more.

Last meal of the day was also a salad, but this time it was all fruit. Blueberries, blackberries, raspberries, chia and hemp seeds, pecans, and kefir filled one of the biggest bowls I have at home, and it was the perfect way to end the day. If nothing else, it curbed my appetite for candy before bed and once again made me feel like I should really get around to going to the gym.

Friday, June 7
I was back at the airport on the way to a weekend of shows in Kansas City. I missed my flight by two minutes and was scrambling to find another. When I realized that no matter what I did it was going to be a three-hour wait until the next flight, I bought a croissant and sat at a random gate with my very sad, very late croissant.

With every bite, I remembered I shouldn’t be at the airport. I should be in the air, on the way. I knew it was not the croissant’s fault, but even that tasted late. It tasted like it should have been eaten the day before by a punctual person. With every chew of the stale flaky pastry, I became more disappointed in myself, that I rely on my iPhone as an alarm.

Britina Cheng , 2024-06-14 12:00:03

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