Memory Meals

I never have an answer when someone asks me what my favorite food is.  There are certainly things I love to eat, but I am hard pressed to say what my absolute favorite is.   I like to go out to eat, but not necessarily to the big time, big name expensive restaurants.   I do remember distinctly, growing up, a few special meals.  There were meals that signified certain occasions or events or even just represented a celebratory mood.  There was crown roast – big event, usually a holiday.  A French restaurant in the city – not usually for any occasion but a family affair, time to act like a respectable human being.  Fancy brunch in a hotel – special occasion or celebration.  And then there was fondue.  At home, not usually for any particular reason, but it certainly didn’t happen on just any old Tuesday, maybe it was over a holiday break or extended vacation period at home. 

My son eats anything.  Sushi?  Why not!  Indian food – sure.  Hey, want to try some octopus?  Abso-lutely.

My daughter.  Not so much.  Food can’t be touching and must be being in color. Possibly yellow.  Occasionally orange.  If it’s a month with a “Y” in it.

So I made fondue.  Modified.  No wine, I made a roux, added a lot of milk, stirred in Gruyere and cheddar.  Weird consistency, so I whisked it a lot.  It needed a ton of salt and pepper not to be bland.  Frankly, regular cheese fondue with wine and kirsch is a ton better, but I knew that would never sell.  We ate it with crusty bread, tomatoes, cauliflower, and green peppers. And by “we” I mean three of us.  One of us ate a lot of bread and melty cheese.

Good times were had by all.  So much, in fact, that I forgot to take a picture.

Until…dessert.

Then I remembered.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Melt chocolate – mostly semi-sweet, some milk, over a double boiler, add half and half or light cream until it’s a pourable consistency.  Serve with fruit, cut up pound cake, and marshmallows.  Give children Benadryl so they sleep.

 

Critical Mass

Over the weekend my daughter turned 8.  She spent a lot of time making little signs that said, “Happy Birthday!” and sticking them to windows and doors, as if to remind us that we weren’t quite meeting her standards of celebration.  Everybody’s a critic.  I’d put the picture my brother took of her wearing the outfit her aunt got her for a birthday present up here to show you that she might actually be 17, not 8, but every time I look at it I get hives because she’s too good looking and too saucy for everyone’s good.

Yes.  I just said “saucy.”

We saw We Bought A Zoo over the weekend.  Worst title for a movie I think I’ve ever heard.  It wasn’t a movie I really cared much about seeing.  I’m not a big animal-story fan.  It’s not about animals, as it turns out.  It’s about people – and I cried seventeen times.  Every so often my son would look over at my and announce, “Oh look, there goes mom again!”  I was like the freaking Trevi Fountain, minus the filthy tourist-maimed coins.  I don’t even know if I liked it;  I know I wasn’t manipulated.  I just know it worked.

Animal print hair extensions:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nope.

Temporary lip tattoos:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh, yes.  I rather think so.

Yesterday, whilst dodging reminders that it was someone else’s VERY SPECIAL DAY, I got a present.  This book:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not only is the book completely spectacular – more on that later, but the giftiness of it just took my breath away.  You know how you’re just living your life, minding your own business, when these perfect people wander through your door? Out of the ordinary but sane, funky but brilliant, uplifting but grounded? And then they become your friends and your life is so much the better for having them in it – there is laughter and community and did I mention the laughter? Well…that.  Sometimes fate has other plans and when you are too good at what you do, you have to follow where your star leads – even if your star leads to New Haven, or thereabouts. So they moved, but not without taking the spirit of Wednesday Spaghetti with them.  They’ve had two of their own Wednesday Spaghetti dinners now in their new home.

This cookbook begins with an introduction written by the author that captures the absolute spirit of Wednesday Spaghetti – don’t freak out, just invite people over.  Of course, then she gives some gorgeous recipes so that the food is somewhat more impressive than boxed noodles and jarred sauce.  Maybe if I can, one week, get the numbers down under 50, I’ll rustle up a Wednesday Pork Roast (but don’t count on it).

 

Is This a Trick Question?

The title of the book is Why Women Need Fat.  At first, the answer seemed obvious…so other women don’t hate them and talk about them behind their backs, duh.

I don’t usually review non-fiction books.  In fact, I don’t usually read much non-fiction, especially diet related non-fiction.   I like to do book reviews, though, and BlogHer’s review program is a good way to keep my hand in and I figured that given my little writing hiatus, I could use the kick in the drawers to get going.  The BlogHer review program pays a little bit (a very little bit – as in a few lattes) but I assure you that you will never read anything in a book review I write that isn’t my entirely unvarnished opinion.  Besides, BlogHer is paying me, not the authors of the book.

The authors of the book are William Lassek, an M.D., and Steven Gaulin, a Ph.D.  The title is a bit of a gimmick, obviously, but the premise of the book, refreshingly, is not.  Neither, more remarkably to me, was the delivery of the premise.  The point is the women have evolved to require a certain amount of body fat in certain places in their bodies, and men have evolved to appreciate that body fat where it should, evolutionarily speaking, land.

American women have, in case you haven’t been paying attention or were lost on a desert island island somewhere, are getting larger in an unhealthy way.  Obviously, I’m speaking in a general way here – this shouldn’t be a big newsflash to anybody.  The amount of weight and the placement of that weight on women’s bodies has been changing, particularly in this country, over the last few decades.  The authors of the book wonder why, and in noting that “as the American diet… changed to get ”healthier,’ food got less tasty, and yet Americans – especially women – started gaining weight”  they trace the scientific, anthropologic, and evolutionary history of women and diet and fat.

I could explain it all, but why should I, they did, and far more clearly and compellingly than I could.  (And people are continuing the discussion of many of the finer points of the book HERE, if you’re interested.) My only gripe is that there were times when I found myself saying, “For the love of Canola Oil, just give me a list of what I can and can’t eat,please!”  Which, by the way, they sort of did, in the back.  Instead of me re-hashing the whole shebang, you could read the book, which you might want to do, because I think it’s a gap in our cultural awareness.

I know there are people who are hardcore Food People, but I think most of us who can’t spend all of our food budget on top of the line produce and grass fed everything and who can’t spend all of our time researching this stuff could use a clear synopsis – which this book provides – about cleaner, healthier, simpler eating.

It’s not a diet book, although it might help some people lose some weight.  I appreciated the fact that research and data was explained to me in real terms, and not in metaphors, as though I am some kind of jello-brained seven year old incapable of comprehending anything not put in the context of popular culture.  I also felt comforted by the references to Michael Pollan, a familiar and reliable name.  Maybe that’s silly, but still.

Despite all the science talk and explanation of the principles behind what Lassek and Gaulin advocate and describe, ultimately, it’s about eating real food, rather than the processed crap we’ve been told will make our lives easier and then become addicted to.  It’s all very sensible and straightforward, and, if what it says on page 142, that a person can get as much DHA from the dark chocolate mousse made with omega 3 enriched eggs featured on the book’s cover as from a fish oil capsule, then I’m all for that.