What To Eat When You’re Crying

London, I have read the room - and yes, quite a hefty portion of Twitter - and I’m sorry to say, it’s not looking good. The LOL circus has packed up and left town, along with our cosy little lockdown memes and array of faux-jolly Zoom quizzes. We’ve all had it. Absolutely bloody had it. The shit weather, the permanent crushing aura of national grief, our mental health rotting in the corner along with that 5KG bag of flour you bought back when you really genuinely thought that banana bread could replace a social life and some innocent casual sex.

And so, inevitably, we’ve all turned to our baser instincts and started ‘having a little cry’. Or just straight up wailing in our pants at 9am. For full disclosure, I have already cried twice today. Once whilst reading about an elderly couple who have been physically separated for a year because of Covid. The other because my last remaining rebellion is refusing to buy contact lenses and thus, I dropped another plate. Paying for sight? I don’t think so. It’s 2021 baby, I’m better off not seeing any of it.

If you can relate, this guide is for you. A gift from one proud hot mess to another. These are the best foods and beverages to consume whilst you’re giving the old tear ducts a workout, and you never know, they might even make you feel better. Tissues not included.

In case you can’t tell, I know how to cry. But I also know firsthand that during a national lockdown there’s a thin line between feeling down, frustrated, or isolated, and realising you might not be able to handle things on your own. Whether lockdown related or not, consider reaching out to someone, or use this list of resources linked here.

The ‘Just Having a Little Cry’ Cry

As essential as a bottle of hand sanitiser, ‘having a little cry’ is a 2021 necessity. Strap in, grab a bog roll, put on Bon Iver for the eighth time today, and let it all out. You’re not weak or overly-sensitive or neurotic, no, you’re a part of the zeitgeist hun. Bang on trend. Deep breath, deep breath, remember that this live otter stream exists, deep breath.

Eat this: Satsumas. You’re not going to want them. No, you’re going to want a freshly poured pint and the motivation to get dressed in the morning, but alas, neither are available on Amazon Prime. So instead, vitamins. There is something deeply cathartic about peeling a cute little satsuma. Plus, the juicy sweetness will perk you up. Fridge full of delightful beige things? I don’t blame you, but these London restaurants are delivering fresh produce, including satsumas and another quintessential post-cry electrolyte snack, the banana.

The Ugly Cry

Let me preface this by saying that there is no such thing as a pretty cry. You know that time you got really drunk with your ex and cried because they bought you the wrong type of Haribo from the off-license? And then they said ‘babe, seriously, you actually look cute when you cry’. Yep, they were lying to you. Shame on them. Championed by Dawson Leery, the ugly cry is usually what happens when you’ve had too many lockdown margaritas or refused to ‘just have a little cry’ earlier in the day and then a song comes on shuffle and you remember being on holiday and friends and family and the wind in your hair and spontaneity, and wow, things have escalated quickly. Uh oh, your face looks like it’s been caught in a malfunctioning wind machine.

Eat this: Ice cream. Sure, it’s a cliché, but which other food can you hold to your eyes to reduce mid-cry puffiness and consume without risk of choking? Hmm? Riddle me that. Personally I’m very partial to a tub of pistachio gelato from Gelupo. You’ll find all of the gelato intel and more ice cream delivery options in our guide, Where To Order Dessert From When That Chocolate Rice Cake Just Isn’t Going To Cut It.

photo credit: Rob Greig

The Heartbreak Heave

What is it about heartbreak that makes you gurgle-cry like you’re warming up for a Listerine commercial? Seems unfair when you already feel like your little heart has been thrown into the darkness of a festival toilet and flushed, no? Pandemics and break-ups, a truly stunning combination.

Eat this: Cupcakes. Okay, I know your appetite is shot to shit but this isn’t about taste, or icing, or even chasing sugar highs. No. This is about hope. Flavourtown Bakery is one of The Best Desserts In London (Right Now) and their entirely adorable creations will remind you that there are people out there putting little gold unicorn horns on cupcakes. See? Humanity, there’s hope yet.

The Bored Bawler

Are you... crying… because... you’re bored? Maybe? It is one of the few remaining government sanctioned activities. Could also be the emotional upheaval of not knowing whether Kim and Kanye are actually getting a divorce, but who’s to say. 2020 was the year where crying upgraded from physical reaction to hobby. You can do it alone, with a friend, in your local park. And the best part is, it’s completely free! Absolute bargain. But at the risk of dehydration, I’m going to go out on a limb and recommend a different distraction.

Eat this: Burgers. More specifically, burgers that you build with your own two hands. Replace your bone-deep boredom with an art form we like to call decorative gherkin arrangement. Onwards for 8 Burger Meal Kits You Should Know About.

photo credit: Karolina Wiercigroch

The Wilson Weep

A very distinctive cry notably utilised by Tom Hanks in the film Castaway when he reaches isolation breaking point. Some common hallmarks include lower-lip shakes and repeated panicked snot inhales, intervaled with a noise that sort of sounds like a stoned Womble has stubbed its toe. You will cry for an hour, maybe more, until you’re completely knackered, spooning a pillow, and your nose just makes little ghost-like whistles. To make matters worse, your iPhone has started doing all kinds of weird things because, well, you cried on it whilst typing ‘Hurt Johnny Cash’ into YouTube mid-sesh.

Eat this: Bread. If you think the sourdough boom was down to boredom you are sadly mistaken. We were actually all just trying to soak up our sorrow in the style of that one girl who always handed out slices of white bread to the kids who got too pissed at house parties. Bless her heart. Don’t do anything complex like make a sandwich, just use your little bread claw - yes, your hand - to direct pieces to your mouth. Personally I like to have the bread from Uncle John’s on standby for just this occasion. They’re delivering nationwide.

The Snotathon

Shoutout to all my beautiful saddos giving the girl from Blair Witch a run for her money. Now, what we have here is many of the other cries listed, combined with the fact that you’ve entered a co-dependent relationship with the Smart Meter since you started spending so much time at home. You refuse to put the heating on, or the oven, or the kettle - especially the kettle because that really does seem to piss off old Smarty doesn’t it? - and your delicate, little tear-sesh has potentially morphed into a very real sinus infection.

Eat this: I’d like you to meet our guide to The Best Noodle Soup Meal Kits. Charmed, I’m sure. Order one, order several, just get toasty. Also, if you’re feeling any shame please know that I once cried so aggressively and so snottily in a Paris airport smoking lounge (see: making bad decisions and never trust a man in a fedora) that an old man silently dropped a pack of tissues at my feet. A proud moment for all involved.

photo credit: Nic Crilly-Hargrave

The Cry for Help

The toaster isn’t working. Your poor lockdown brain can’t fathom this betrayal from your favourite kitchen appliance. And thus, you return to a strange human default setting of just wailing, and wailing, and wailing until the nearest appropriate adult helps you. Flatmate, sibling, parent, partner, a concerned neighbour that calls the police. “It’s not working”, you say, when you’re eventually capable of articulation. Whether you’re referring to the toaster or the UK government’s handling of the pandemic remains to be seen.

Drink this: Time for some good old fashioned grown-up juice, commonly known by the fans as ‘coffee’. Find hot caffeinated salvation in our Coffee Delivery Guide. Invest in a cinnamon roll for later.

Oh, and after a brief investigation it turns out that the toaster wasn’t plugged in. Nevermind.

The Rager

Right, you’re having ‘the worst day of your fucking life’ due to a minor inconvenience, namely the shop was out of strawberry natural yoghurt and your best friend tagged you in a ‘Classic Aquarius Traits’ post on the ’Gram even though YOU HAVE NEVER IN YOUR WHOLE FUCKING LIFE BEEN FUCKING SHORT-TEMPERED, YOU CHEEKY FUCK. Spoiler: You’re actually pretty mad that life has turned into an abyss of gentle rain ASMR and not being able to see the people you love. You are capable of little more than full-body shaking and saying different versions of ‘I can’t believe this is happening’ peppered with expletives.

Eat this: We can’t recommend solids right now because frankly it’s a danger to all those in your path and our lawyers can’t take the risk (note to self: check whether we actually have any lawyers). But the point is, it’s impossible to be angry when you’re drinking something called the Pink Pataya Special. Get involved in London’s Best Bubble Tea and watch as your rage bursts like metaphorical tapioca sipped through the straw of life. Or something.

The Happy Cry

The sun pops around a cloud just as you’re leaving the house for your ever-exhilarating daily promenade. Someone you love gets vaccinated. You realise you don’t have bed bugs, those little black spots are just crumbs from all the Oreos you’ve been consuming in bed after midnight - true story. Then, you feel something stirring just beneath your sternum that definitely could be heartburn from your obsessive new peppermint tea habit but - hang on a second - is it happiness? It is. Pure, unfiltered joy. Hello old friend, I haven’t seen you since the rule of six was abandoned.

Eat this: Chongqing noodles, bone marrow varuval, a fondue. Basically, anything you don’t always have in the back of your fridge, because This. Is. An. Occasion. You’re feeling something other than existential dread swirled with whatever it is your therapist keeps referring to as ‘dissociation’. And that calls for an exciting delivery, a delivery that definitely does not involve the words ‘peri peri sauce’, a special delivery that won’t give you déja vu.