YEP, I’m hungry.

But not as hungry as I thought I’d be. It’s not quantity I’m craving. It’s flavour.

A week of not much more than rice, flatbread and water is soul-destroyingly boring. I’m finding myself hanging out for a few kidney beans with my dinner each night, or “treating” myself to my meagre vegetable allocation.

When I signed up for the Ration Challenge, run by charity Act For Peace, I thought I’d raise a bit of money for a great cause and lose a few kilos in the process.

It’s a simple enough concept. For seven days, you have to eat the same rations that a Syrian refugee receives. You get sponsorship for the challenge, with the money going to help refugees around the world.

I was more concerned about caffeine withdrawal than anything else, really. And sugar withdrawal. But it seems I’m not addicted to caffeine or sugar after all. I’m addicted to flavour.

THE CHALLENGE

It has to be said, the box was smaller than I expected. My week’s worth of food fit into a container about the size of two tissue boxes. And it wasn’t even packed full. Right. Deep breaths.

So for seven days, three meals a day, I had to eat a pretty meagre amount of rice, lentils, chickpeas, tofu, kidney beans, flour and vegetable oil.

Then as I raised more money, I reached milestones which got me some extra “treats”. As I ended up reaching over $931 in sponsorship, my extras included a little sugar, milk, a spice, a small portion of a vegetable and a protein.

DAY ONE

I didn’t get off to the best start. Day one was a Sunday, our family day, when we go out, see friends — Sunday Funday. But so much of this revolves around food. My husband and I went through our options.

“We could go for coffee? Oh no. Well, I need a couple of things from Bunnings. But no sausage sizzle. That’s depressing.”

In the end, my husband decided we needed to go to the supermarket to buy something for him and our son for dinner. He started debating what would be good.

“Oh, maybe I could get a hot chicken — and some lettuce, and bread rolls. Yum!”

Thanks, dear.

FLATBREAD AFICIONADO

Ignoring the smell of cooked chook, I began to sort through my own ingredients.

I love to cook. The kitchen is my happy place. “I’ve got this in the bag,” I thought. But then I was confronted with the amount of extra things I normally throw into meals. This was seriously back to basics.

I made some flatbreads with the flour, some water and my chosen spice — fennel seeds — which helped a huge amount in the flavour stakes. I figured this would do for breakfast, served with some hummus made from the chickpeas whizzed up with some water and oil.

I worked out I could have around two flatbreads a day, which meant one for breakfast and one with dinner.

They were surprisingly yummy, and if I’ve gained any cooking skills from this experience, my flatbread game is now on point.

But they weren’t very filling. By 10am each day, my tummy was grumbling again.

So on Thursday, I tried something else. I cooked some rice and mixed it with a little of my milk and sugar allocation to make a kind of rice porridge.

It was absolutely delicious — for about four mouthfuls. Then it was the worst thing on Earth, turning to concrete in my stomach. By the end of the week, I was doing a combination of flatbread and a very small portion of the rice porridge, which worked better.

WHO NEEDS SMASHED AVO?

Lunches were largely rice. Rice with lentils, rice with tofu, rice with broccoli (my chosen “treat” vegetable) that I cut paper thin.

My work colleagues are hugely sympathetic. They even wait until I go to fill up my water bottle before they open the packet of mini Crunchies next to my desk. Thanks guys!

For dinners, I pushed the boat out a bit. Which, to be honest, wasn’t far. I had a revelation when I tried frying “smashed” kidney beans, rolled into a flatbread, spread with hummus kind of like a burrito.

The first night I made it, it looked so awful I was almost sick. But it tasted amazing. I never realised kidney beans were so sweet and luscious. I’d serve my bean flatbread with a small spoonful of the fried rice I’d made for my lunches. Who needs smashed avo, anyway?

And then, there was water. Nothing to drink but water. I’d have hot water instead of tea in the morning. Apart from the one time I cheated (or, to be correct, my husband cheated) by putting a squeeze of lemon in my hot water.

WASTE NOT

And speaking of other family members, during the challenge I was still cooking for my two-year-old, watching him chow down on chicken, meatballs, corn, broccoli, toast, strawberries, apples and bananas — and becoming despondent when I had to throw out what he didn’t eat.

That’s another thing the week taught me. I make too much food for myself. And I throw out too much food. There’s a Woolies at the end of my road, and barely a day goes by that I’m not popping in there to pick up something. But I don’t need to. Clearly it’s possible to feed myself for a week without buying food.