I’ve been exploring an unusual extreme of the culinary spectrum this week.

Immediately after my surgery on Monday, I was hooked up to IV ports In each arm that, as I uderstand, delivered pain control miedictions, antibiotics, fluids, and very basic nutrition.

I was not able to take any liquid or food by mouth for two days, until a tube inserted through my nose to my stomach was removed. Surprisingly, the tube didn’t cause me any other discomfort or inconvenience, but the food thing loomed large in my experience.

Then on Wednesday morning the tube was removed. I expected that there would be some procedure to do this, but it was more like quickly ripping off a bandage.

“One, two, three…” I heard the nurse say before he pulled that length of plastic tubing from my depths in one quick move. It reminded me of a scene from the movie “Alien” where baby monsters emerge from various parts of the body.

By this time, I had been without eating anything for 3-1/2 days, but now I was limited to a clear liquid-only diet. Clear beverages, clear broth, and liquids in disguise like Jello.

I ordered my first “meal” using a menu system on the large screen TV. When my tray was delivered, I picked up a spoon and ate a spoonful of orange jello.

The sensations—the cool jello, the taste on my tongue, the simple pleasure of something I would have typically dismissed—were overwhelming. It tasted like the best chef-produced meal of my life.

It reminded me of this scene from Oliver!

The liquid diet continued for two days. On Friday, I graduated to a pureed diet of foods reduced to a soft pudding-like or applesauce-like consistency.

I chose a meal of puréed turkey, puréed carrots, and a side of vegetable broth.

“Astronaut food,” one friend suggested.“

Yum,” I mutter sarcastically.

The main items, turkey and carrots, had only the vaguest hint of what were supposedly the underlying foods.

Nothing tasted bad. It’s just that they were devoid of the appearance, texture, and smell that are integral to the experience of eating.

And now I’ve learned that my surgeon has directed that I stay on the puréed food diet for another 10 days until my follow-up exam, including just over a week after I’ve been discharged from the hospital.

So I’ll get some experience as a purée chef, taking my foods of choice, first using a blender or food processor to reduce them to a goo, and then putting them through a strainer to remove any offending larger bits that survive the process.

All this out of an abundance of caution in avoiding stressing any parts of my system after abdominal surgery.

I understand the need to go slow. That doesn’t make the prospect any more appealing.