Maybe a decade ago, my mom visited the tiny basement apartment where I was then living.  She opened up the fridge and all the cupboards, and proclaimed herself very concerned that I didn't have any food.

I honestly didn't know what she was talking about.  I had rice and pasta and lentils and veggies and some fruit juice, and I think a container of hummus and some crackers.  It seemed like plenty of food for somebody living alone.

Then I realized that she's just not used to thinking of things that don't come in packages as "food."  Which is strange, considering where and how she grew up, but I won't go into that.