As a food writer for Seven Days, it’s my job to eat everything. Bear sausage, fish heads, chicken hearts and mealworms have all been on the menu, and I’ve devoured every last bite. Only olives gave me the ick — and I got over that with buttery Castelvetranos and O Bread Bakery’s olive-studded ciabatta. Until the first trimester of my pregnancy, that is. Up to week six, my biggest issue was trying to be sly about skipping Negronis and natural wine at social gatherings. Then the morning sickness hit. Friends had thoroughly warned me, often with the classic joke, “I don’t know why they call it that. It lasts all day.” I was still surprised that the constant, nagging nausea knocked me out for six weeks; some days, it made my job impossible. I had more aversions than a beige-food-loving toddler, and even the beige foods didn’t sit well. The only time I actually puked was on my birthday. I lounged in bed, doing the Wordle and scrolling through baby registry guides. By the time I got up, my oh-so-empty stomach was in full revolt, and I was kneeling over the toilet. Happy birthday! Another “present”: a general sense of queasiness, hanging over my day like dreaded items on a procrastinator’s lengthy to-do list. I was eating constantly, though never very much at a time: a bite of peanut-butter toast here, a handful of blueberries there. My concerned husband suggested smoothies — (supposedly) soothing sustenance that he read about online as he watched me choke down my 10th plain Eggo. He quickly became a smoothie whiz, blending berries, bananas and yogurt in perfect proportions, or combining kale, ginger and apples to make sure I had something green. They were staple substitutes for breakfast or lunch, often both. Still, to write about restaurants, I had to eat at restaurants. I started making reservations for 5 p.m., since 8:30 was my new bedtime. To make sure I could stomach the food I was supposed to be reviewing, I’d eat a granola bar and drink a lemon seltzer in the car on the way, especially if it was a winding drive. I chose straightforward dishes that I usually wouldn’t and let my dining companions tackle the more adventurous items, prodding them for sensory details and sticking to a taste or two. None of my strategies were working at an early dinner at…