Welcome
to Open Book Blog Hop. You can find us every Monday talking about the
writing life. I hope you'll check out all the posts: you'll find the
links at the bottom of this post.
Are you a breakfast, lunch, or dinner person? What does your ideal meal look like?
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What can I say? I like to eat. I can be very happy with any of these meals. Or tea. Or a snack. Or one of those in-between meals like brunch or lupper.
I do especially like to be taken out to breakfast because I struggle to make myself eat in the morning and really need to in order to keep my blood sugar on an even keel. Going out to breakfast feels like a treat, so it's not as hard to convince myself to do it.
For all my meals, I'm looking for different things on different days. Sometimes, I want the homey comfort of something I've enjoyed again and again. Sometimes, I want novelty and am thrilled to try something I've never tried before. All meals are made better with good company and pleasant atmosphere, too.
I enjoy cooking, and one of the ways I stay interested in cooking is by making new things. Just this week for example, I tried out two new recipes. (and both were hits!) I also enjoy it when someone else takes on the labor and I get to just show up and eat.
The most important thing is that I eat on a regular schedule. You wouldn't like me when I'm hangry.
Welcome to Open Book Blog Hop. You can find us every Monday talking about the writing life. I hope you'll check out all the posts: you'll find the links at the bottom of this post.
What do you order from your local Chinese restaurant? Do you order it every time or mix things up?
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The truth is I'm a bit of a food snob, and my local Chinese restaurant is nothing special. It's not bad. It's fine, completely adequate, but ordinary.
So, if it's up to me alone, I don't bother. I feel that way about most of the restaurants in my adopted hometown of Hillsborough, North Carolina--they're fine, but not special (though that's changing! there are a couple of newer and more interesting places I'm hoping will take root).
If I'm going out to eat, I want something more interesting, preferably something I've never tried, and there are a LOT of much more interesting restaurants near me. It's one of the cool things about living between two university towns--lots of culinary possibilities.
My current favorites for eating out are a local Mexican restaurant (Tacos Los Altos), a Thai restaurant in downtown Durham (Thai at Main Street), an Indian restaurant in another part of Durham (Tandoori Bites), a Turkish place in downtown Chapel Hill (Talulla's) and a Himalayan place in downtown Chapel Hill (Momo's Master).
But, still, the kiddo gets a hankering for egg drop soup from time to time, especially if they don't feel well.
And if I'm getting egg drop soup for the kid, then I get an egg roll for me while I'm there, and if I'm trying to avoid multiple stops, I might pick up some garlic chicken, or cashew chicken, or orange chicken for my own dinner and chicken and vegetables for Sweetman.
So, I'm not completely averse to patronizing our local Chinese restaurant if the circumstances are right. And I do like to keep up the Jewish tradition of eating Chinese food on Christmas.
How about you? Do you favor a Chinese restaurant near you? What do you like to eat from there? I'd love to hear about it in the comments.
Welcome to Open Book Blog Hop. You can find us every Monday talking about the writing life. I hope you'll check out all the posts: you'll find the links at the bottom of this post.
What does the food your characters eat reveal about their personality?
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Food comes up surprisingly often in the Menopausal Superheroes novels. Maybe this is just because I lean towards being a foodie myself, or maybe it's because I like to show my heroes in domestic settings and food is a part of that.
But let's take this hero by hero.
Jessica "Flygirl" Roark: Even before she became a superhero, Jessica had no interest in cooking.
Her bestie, Leonel, despairs of the beautiful kitchen in her fancy house "going to waste."
In her first marriage, she and her husband bought a lot of pre-prepared foods or picked up takeout when they were out. During her cancer treatments, they used a meal service.
In her single-mom years, she tried to do a little better, but it was hard to develop kitchen skills and save the city in her new role as Flygirl, so her boys had their favorite pizza place on speed dial.
Things are looking up now that she's remarried. Walter is a scientist, and cooking is a science of sorts. He's got a penchant for pancakes and other carb-heavy meals, but superhero work requires a fair number of calories, so it's working out well!
Leonel "Fuerte" Alvarez: The foodie of the group.
Before the mad-science changes that gave him super-strength and changed his gender, Leonel was abuelita to several grandchildren, spoiling them with tamales, biscochitos, conchitas, enchiladas, posole, and countless other Mexican-American masterpieces.
That hasn't changed, though the fancy meal prep happens a little less often now that he's on call to rescue the citizens of Springfield when the need arises.
He still loves to spend the morning in the kitchen and the evening watching everyone he loves enjoy his creations.
His husband, David, has learned that sometimes a tres leches cake means there's bad news coming, but it doesn't stop him from digging in. Bonus! Their house nearly always smells of coffee and cinnamon.
Patricia "Lizard Woman" O'Neill: Patricia likes the finer things in life. Designer bags, expensive travel, theater tickets, visits to the spa, and fine dining.
Overcoming her humble beginnings as the eldest daughter of an often-married and just as often divorced mother, she worked hard and made personal sacrifices to get to a position where she could afford to indulge.
She is proud of making her way up to Vice President even though she started her career in the later 1970s, when the glass ceiling was definitely still firmly in place.
Her condo is provisioned with the basics and she can whip up an omelet like nobody's business, but after spending her younger years flipping burgers and slinging milkshakes, she thinks her time is better spent on something other than cooking.
Sometimes she and Suzie, her girlfriend and sometimes sidekick, like to stay home and get takeout Chinese, but they're definitely first in line when a new restaurant opens in Springfield, ready to find out if the fuss is worth it.
The other characters in the series have some opinions about food, too, but I'll save them for another day. Does food play a big role in books you write or like to read? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments!
Welcome to Open Book Blog Hop. You can find us every Monday talking about the writing life. I hope you'll check out all the posts: you'll find the links at the bottom of this post.
Today's question: What toppings do you put on your pizza? Is pineapple a real pizza topping?
So at first this might not seem like an important question for an author to ponder, but writing takes fuel! And pizza has some serious advantages on this front--it's possible to get or make at low effort and cost, and it's flexible, letting you add whatever you want to your lovely round piece of bread and call it a meal.
Honestly, at this stage of my life, I'm not so much a pizza fan. I probably ate too much of it in my youth, as part of band, chorus, and tennis trips.
Most of the pizza that comes into my house now is purchased for my teenager and the gaggle of other teenagers that come with them. Teenagers have a reputation for being risk-takers, but in my experience, this doesn't apply when we're talking about food. They're practically still toddlers (as a group).
So that means, in my opinion, pretty boring pizza: Domino's, plain cheese or with pepperoni. The fanciest they go is ham and pineapple. (And, yes, I do like pineapple on a pizza, especially contrasted with ham).
My personal favorite, on the other hand, is a chicken tikka masala pizza (recipe here).
By Indian cooking standards, it's a simple recipe, and really flavorful. Instead of using traditional pizza crust, I made mine using a store-bought piece of naan for the crust. It's aromatic and satisfying, and not boring.
I've also enjoyed getting fancier pizza with some other unusual toppings.
There's a Napoli place near us that offers interesting things like duck and bison on your pizza.
And even chain restaurants like Blaze will at least let you have some interesting cheese and a vegetable or two.
The truth is, I like pizza that is as little like traditional pizza as possible.
So, that's my take on what I want on my pizza: something interesting, aromatic, and tasty! How about you? Are you a pizza fan? What do you like on yours? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.
And be sure to check out the rest of the blog hop at this link!
I don't always get to have a Halloween party. Halloween does fall, after all, right at the end of the quarter, when my grades are due. Life has other demands, sadly.
But I have from time to time gotten to have a shindig to celebrate and one of my favorite parts is making cute and creepy foods to enjoy.
Things like these:
And these:
Of course, mine don't come out quite so professional looking. I'm an author, not a baker, Jim! They do, however, go great with my Raven themed tablecloth and pumpkin candles and they never fail to make our guests smile with delight.
I'm not quite so Basic a white girl as to be a connoisseur of all things pumpkin. My favorite latte of the moment is gingerbread, thank you very much. And I don't even like pumpkin pie, though I do like pumpkin bread from my local co-op.
But you know what I do love?
Actual pumpkins.
Jack-o-lanterns are fun, but I'm not that dextrous with a knife, so mostly I admire the handiwork of others in that regard. But I love pumpkins themselves.
I'm especially loving lately all the varieties I can buy. There are traditional orange ones in a variety of sizes (including adorable mini pumpkins, that are probably actually not pumpkins, but a squash of some kind), but there are also ghost white ones, gray ones, and wide flattish ones they're calling "fairy tale" pumpkins, presumably in homage to the one the fairy godmother transformed into a coach for Cinderella.
Pumpkins are the only produce I buy that I have no plans to make anything out of of. I buy them because they please me aesthetically. They feel so nice and solid in my hands. The perch there like mushrooms (which I also love unreasonably much). They smell of fall.
I had big plans this year to plant a pumpkin patch of my own, but didn't get off my butt in time (June is when I get lazy, right after school is out; and it's also when you're supposed to plant pumpkins if you want them in October). Maybe next year will be my year for my very own very sincere pumpkin patch.
I love Reese's cups. Definitely too much. I love the traditional ones. I love the Reese's minis with that thicker edge of chocolate. The Big Cup that's practically a meal replacement. Those little ones in red and green wrappers you get in December. Reese's Puffs cereal.
Even the ones that aren't that great like Fast Break and white chocolate cups are still pretty good.
But the peanut butter pumpkins are the bestest of all.
My perfect proportions of chocolate vs. peanut butter.
The right size to give me a nice sugar zoom without a horrible crash thirty minutes later.
Smooth edges instead of the traditional hard-straight edges.
Plus, they're a sure sign that Halloween is almost here.
You got a favorite Halloween treat? I'd love to hear about it in the comments.
I didn't cook when I was a young woman. In my first marriage, my husband did most of our day to day meal preparation.
I used to brag about that.
I think I thought it proved something about my feminism, that our house hadn't fallen into that particular traditional gender role. (Even though we fell into plenty of other typical patterns).
I definitely didn't want to be the little wifey, slaving away in the kitchen. No way, no how.
I only cooked if we were having a party or trying something I thought was ambitious or fun. That started to change when we had a child since there was a greater need for a variety of food preparation, but when we divorced, he was still the main cook in our house.
So, there I was, thirty-two years old, temporarily back in my parents house with a preschooler. My mom and dad are wonderful people, who really came through for me when I needed it. But I wasn't enjoying eating with them.
They weren't very adventurous eaters (I am), and my mom was pretty burnt out on meal preparation. She'd been making meals for one kind of family or another since she was nine years old, after all. Most meals involved a lot of boxes and cans, and I found them pretty darn dull.
So, I started cooking.
I was looking for a way to contribute to the household, since I was draining their resources, and unable to contribute any dollars (even an amicable divorce is expensive), so I could contribute my labor. I'm not very good at accepting help (especially if I can't reciprocate), and my parents were thrilled to have someone else take over cooking for a while, so it was a good arrangement.
I learned something other cooks have known for a long time: preparing food for people is an expression of love and care.
Like I've always done when I wanted to learn something new, I looked for helpful books, and found the wonderful world of cookbooks. My mom had a lovely basic cookbook on the shelves at her house. I think it was a Better Homes and Garden offering. The good thing about it was its specificity. It didn't assume that you knew the terminology or would automatically know how to tell if the carrots were done cooking. It was explicit and complete, and so useful for a novice cook!
Soon, I had mastered some good basics and started expanding. After a couple of years, I was a basically competent cook. I wasn't angsty about cooking or anything. It was a new and exciting skill; it meant I got to eat better; and it let me pay back my parents for the huge favor of taking me and my daughter in, when they should have been enjoying their empty nest.
And then I married again.
And it was time to negotiate.
In our courtship, Sweetman and I had each cooked for each other. There was that time that we learned I didn't understand peppers yet and nearly killed him with habañero peppers, and he still loved me afterwards. There was the time we had to order takeout because his meal plan took longer than he thought it would and my blood sugar tanked.
We really didn't know how we were going to handle food in our new shared life. We didn't walk into our first home knowing who would handle what household job.
I was superstitious in a lot of ways about this second chance at love and marriage. I wanted to do everything differently.
Since I didn't have a wedding the first time, we had a wedding. Since I didn't change my name the first time, this time I did. But I was not sure about taking on the cooking. I didn't want to shackle myself to the kitchen just because I was a wife again.
It's hard to remember now how it went at first. I think we tried taking turns. But it quickly became clear that my day job as a teacher got me home a LOT earlier than his job as a UX guy (like 2-3 hours!), and that we could have dinner a lot earlier if I cooked it. That was better for the flow of day, getting the kid (and later plural kids) to bed timely and getting enough rest.
Luckily, Sweetman has always been great to cook for. He's willing to try things and shares the labor: helping choose menus, grocery shop, and prepare the food when he can get home in time. Most importantly, he's genuinely appreciative of the effort it takes each and every time. Ask anyone who cooks: an appreciative audience makes a difference.
So, now I've been the primary cook in our family for the twelve years we've been married. He cooks from time to time (usually once or twice a week). It's not about an unwillingness: it's just about time. On holidays and vacations, he often takes on more because he can. And now that I've been doing it a while, the kitchen is more my space. I don't always like to share it.
This summer, though, I hit a wall. I've hit a few of them over the years: just these periods when I can't get invested in the process, when I don't care what we have for dinner or even if we eat. I just want to be done.
It's a kind of burnout. Usually my burnout periods are short. This one was longer. About two months long. I definitely blew the take-out budget. I'd feel deflated just thinking about spending time in the kitchen. There were so many other things I wanted to do instead.
But, we needed to eat, so I had to find a way around my own roadblock.
So, what worked?
The same thing that always works on me: I tried something new.
I was bored as much as I was burnt out. It had been a while since I upped the ante by pushing myself with a new kitchen skill or new recipe. So, I broke out another cookbook and started trying the things in it we hadn't made yet.
It's kind of funny that I didn't think of it. I mean, that's what I do when I'm teaching or writing and things start to feel stale and uninteresting. You'd think I would know.
This week we had five things I'd never made before.
Sure enough, the family was re-engaged because the meals were interesting, and so was I. I guess the kitchen have made our peace again (until next time!).
Thanksgiving can be a pressure cooker of a holiday, literally and metaphorically.
Families get together, which can be lovely and affirming or harrowing and difficult or some mixture of all that.
The meal-preparer has considerable stress, accommodating all the various dietary restrictions, likes and dislikes, traditional must-haves, and just making a heck of a lot of food.
And all of that assumes that a lot of things went right, like having a family to get together with and enough money to be able to worry about whether you've got the prefect pie crust instead of worrying about whether you can keep the electricity on this month.
It can be even harder, with long hours off of work to linger alone and worry yourself about the state of your life. You can be separated from the ones you love, or dealing with a loss. It can be more a torture than a vacation.
Here at La Casa Bryant, we are fortunate in that we are healthy and together this year, with sufficient money to have a feast with our family, with whom we anticipate a harmonious time. We cut the stress by sharing the work, and by ordering some aspects of the meal ready-made from our food co-op. And we are lucky in that, too--for having the option.
May all of you find joy in the company you keep tomorrow, and pleasure in the food you eat, and find that your life offers you a multitude of things to be grateful for.
It's April and you know what that means: The AtoZ Blogging Challenge! For those who haven't played along before, the AtoZ Blogging Challenge asks bloggers to post every day during April (excepting Sundays), which works out to 26 days, one for each letter of the alphabet. In my opinion, it's the most fun if you choose a theme.
My theme this year is Places in my Heart, all about the places I've been and loved and that have mattered to me in a lasting sense.
For my regular readers, you'll see more than the usual once-a-week posts from me this month. I'm having a great time writing them, so I hope you enjoy reading them, too.
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W is for Weaver Street Market
I've been fortunate enough to live in some places with food co-ops before, but none were as lovely as Weaver Street Market. When we moved to Chapel Hill back in 2006, there was only one Weaver Street, in Carrboro. It was a real community hub as well as a G-dsend to people who want organic and local foodstuffs.
Just as we moved to Hillsborough, they opened a Weaver Street Market in Hillsborough. We like to joke that it was just for us. The Hillsborough store is smaller than the original in Carrboro, but I like it better, maybe just because it's mine. I'm such a frequent flyer there that several of the cashiers have my owner number memorized and most of the baristas know my order already.
(Later, they added a third in another Chapel Hill neighborhood, so my sister has a Weaver Street, too).
Weaver Street, besides stocking milk from the local dairy, fruits and vegetables grown at local farms, and a variety of locally made, organic products, also has their own bakery and makes some of the yummiest breads, cookies, and desserts I have ever enjoyed. Since our family lives by our stomachs, we appreciate delicious things made of good ingredients that don't leave us feeling bad.
There are other venues to get some of the things Weaver Street sells in our area. We have a Trader Joes and Whole Paycheck (our nickname for Whole Foods), but I always try Weaver Street first. It may be cliche to say, but it really is about the people. I so rarely see anyone grumpy or mean at Weaver. And while it's a haven for gluten free, natural sugars only, vegetarian and vegan, or other dietary strictures, there's no snobbery or rudeness surrounding that. Carnivores and sugarhounds are welcome, too.
If you ever come visit me in Hillsborough, I'll take you to Weaver for coffee and a pastry. You won't regret it.
It's April and you know what that means: The AtoZ Blogging Challenge! For those who haven't played along before, the AtoZ Blogging Challenge asks bloggers to post every day during April (excepting Sundays), which works out to 26 days, one for each letter of the alphabet. In my opinion, it's the most fun if you choose a theme.
My theme this year is Places in my Heart, all about the places I've been and loved and that have mattered to me in a lasting sense.
For my regular readers, you'll see more than the usual once-a-week posts from me this month. I'm having a great time writing them, so I hope you enjoy reading them, too.
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S is for Sunrise Biscuit Kitchen
I like to eat.
Whenever I go someplace, I want to try the food they are known for. I want something different than the every day, delicious and memorable. I like to try and find the places the locals know about, but that don't attract the tourists.
Sunrise Biscuit Kitchen in Chapel Hill, NC is a place like that. It's doesn't look like much. In fact, I lived in the area for a couple of years before I found out about it. I drove past hundreds of time, but it didn't catch my eye, with its unassuming structure and little drive-through sign.
Then I happened to hear about it on a cooking podcast I like (Splendid Table) as part of a feature on road food they used to do. I told my husband about it, and our stomachs both fell in love. In fact, we have to limit ourselves to only eating there once a month for the sake of our waistlines and cardio-vascular health.
Biscuits and fried chicken are both quintessentially Southern food items. And they can be *wonderful* or "meh" depending on who makes them. Sunrise makes perfect chicken biscuits. The biscuits are soft and fluffy and buttery. The chicken is crisp and juicy inside, that perfect combination that is difficult to achieve.
It's April and you know what that means: The AtoZ Blogging Challenge! For those who haven't played along before, the AtoZ Blogging Challenge asks bloggers to post every day during April (excepting Sundays), which works out to 26 days, one for each letter of the alphabet. In my opinion, it's the most fun if you choose a theme.
My theme this year is Places in my Heart, all about the places I've been and loved and that have mattered to me in a lasting sense.
For my regular readers, you'll see more than the usual once-a-week posts from me this month. I'm having a great time writing them, so I hope you enjoy reading them, too.
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E is for Elmo's Diner
Elmo's is our family breakfast place. Initially, it was an us-two breakfast place. It's where we shared our first breakfast as a couple. It's a diner in Carrboro, NC (they have one in Durham, too, but that one's not "ours").
Besides lovely aromatic coffee and delicious breakfast offerings, Elmo's also offers friendly staff who know us after all these years and beautiful sunlight through tall windows in old brick walls (the building used to be a mill). The quality of light has always really affected my mood, so it might be the windows as much as anything that won me over to the joys of Elmo's.
We've all got our regular food choices there. The youngest has her chocolate chip pancake, the eldest her chicken caesar salad, the husband has his southwest salad with chicken, and I have my open face turkey sandwich or salmon cake. And always, of course, the coffee. I love the coffee there so much, my husband bought me a mug from there to use at home.
Elmo's has memories of many happy meals. It's that rare place that really pleases all four of us. No one is just tolerating it for the sake of others. It's earned its place in my heart.
I married a nice Catholic boy a few years ago. As we approached our first holiday season together, I asked him how he felt about celebrating Chanukah. I'm not particularly religious, but I have always liked The Festival of Lights for its emphasis on family time. I was delighted when he said yes. So, for eight or so years now, we've been doing both Christmas and Chanukah.
Sometimes, it blends beautifully. Sometimes, it's like that old candy commercial : You got your Christmas in my Chanukah! You got your Chanukah in my Christmas! Will these two tastes really taste great together?
This year, like many families, we're trying to scale back our holiday spending. Eight nights of presents, and then Christmas, too, can get really expensive, so we decided to do it differently this year. Instead of making Chanukah about gifts, we planned a family activity for each night. I love it!
Here's a break down of our nights:
First Night: Dreidels and Gelt.
We're teaching the little one the prayers this year, so I got the joy of listening to my older daughter patiently walking her little sister through the words, syllable by syllable. Her sweet little warble alongside our more grown-up voices made me happily teary. She's growing up, that one! You can tell because she now cheers for anyone who gets Gimel!
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Second Night: Family collage!
We've done this before and I think I'd like to have us do it every year until the kids start to refuse. We grab all the magazines in the house and pull pictures of things that represent our family or one of the members of it, then make a family collage. This year, you'll see comics, heroes, chocolate, popcorn, coffee, legos, games, Star Wars, Twinings tea, and many other things we enjoy together. The best part was all the laughter and talking while we handed each other pictures to consider.
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Third Night: You-Tubing
We have a teenager in our house, so youtube is a service that sees a fair amount of use. We gave each person ten minutes or so to show things they like on youtube to the other family members, who promised to at least watch politely. :-) Here was my contribution:
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Fourth Night: Family Movie
Friday night is always tricky at our house. Mom and Dad are exhausted. The teenager wants social time with the boyfriend. The little one is full of happy energy. Whew! Movie night works for us all--popcorn on the couch in the dark with cuddles and giggles. Perfect.
Our selection was Sky High--superheroes that don't get too dark for smaller folk, but no annoying cartoon voices for us larger folk. The three larger folk had seen the film before, but it held up very well. It's a really charming flick!
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Fifth Night: Family Game
Saturday was challenging. It's always hard to celebrate Jewish holidays when you're not living in a
Jewish community--there are a lot of other demands on your time! The littlest one had her last holiday art class in the morning and her taekwondo studio was having a Christmas party in the evening, so we just changed the order of operations and did our activity first, then ended with candles and prayers. We also had the teenager's boyfriend over this afternoon. Luckily it was game night--um, afternoon.
We played a game called Flash Point. It's a co-op game (which means that the players are working together to defeat a scenario on the board, rather than competing with each other). We play firefighters, with different types of expertise, working together to rescue people and pets from a fire. I'm happy to report that we rescued all but one of one the fire victims.
Co-op games are my favorite type of games to play with my family. All of us really got into this scenario as well. We scrambled to make sure that kitten made it out there!
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Sixth Night: Bowling
This proved to be the expensive night. Bowling. But it was a good time :-) And I actually won, probably because the hubby succumbed to a migraine and had to stay home. But still, I beat a pair of pretty athletic teenagers, so that felt like something, and the little monkey was adorable rolling her six pound ball down the guide rails. We also learned that she shares my love of skeeball. Someday, when I'm rich and famous, we'll have a skeeball lane in our game room.
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Seventh Night: Baking
I love to bake. So does the little one. The older one not so much, but she does love arts and crafts.
(Papa was still down with the sickness, so didn't get to help with this one.) So, Ninja-bread men and a gingerbread house, it was--where baking is like arts and crafts because the icing is really just edible glue.
We won't be winning any posh awards for our efforts, but we did have a good time. It was a surprise when green hail fell on the plastic lawn of our gingerbread house kit, but we do get some strange weather here in North Carolina.
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Eighth Night: Gifts
The last night of Chanukah is always so beautiful. The youngest had learned some of the words (at least Barukh atah Adonai) and all of the tune. Since half our family was ill, we ate homemade chicken soup while we watched the eight candles glow and melt.
We gave each other gifts. The husband got Artisan Dice that I picked up for him at GenCon this summer. I got a shawl I had recently coveted and some Star of David jewelry. The eldest got steampunk style earrings. The youngest got a squishable Catbug, so fluffy she could die! She fell asleep on top of him and had to be resettled lest she wake up with a crick in her neck--he's that fluffy!
So, that was our Chanukah and it was a lovely one indeed. May your holidays be just as bright and full of love and laughter.
Holidays always give me grocery lust. I have to stay out of places like A Southern Season, Trader Joe's, and Whole Foods. Even Weaver Street Market, our local co-op market, isn't safe. They are all full of wonderful things to eat that I have never tried and wonderful exotic ingredients for things I have never made.
If I walk in to one of these stores, I could bankrupt us. Once grocery lust takes me over, I could end up buying kitchen tools I don't know how to use and ingredients I don't know how to prepare. Like it goes most of the time when you give in to sheer lust, it doesn't end well. You gorge yourself. You don't feel well. You get fatter. You hate yourself afterwards.
It's not limited to the stores either. There are ads, cooking magazines, podcasts, emails from foodie websites. It's kind of funny, because I'm pretty immune to advertising. If I wasn't already thinking about buying something, it takes more than a clever commercial to make me want it. You can send me ads for electronics, cars, toys, books, garden items, etc. all day and never get any of my money. But food. That's different.
I think it goes back to spending my 20's in Alaska. It was my big adventure post-bachelor's degree. My then-husband and I packed our bags and moved to Alaska. We ended up staying just shy of ten years. It was a place that demanded much and gave much. There was so much to love about life there--the people, the landscape, the feeling of accomplishment that just living there gave me.
But not the groceries.
Alaska, especially small-town rural Alaska, is not a foodie paradise. Going to the grocery store is a study in lowered expectations. Depending on the weather, even simple staple items like milk and bread may not be in stock. You cannot rely on fresh ingredients, and every meal involves a backup plan full of cans and boxed items. People hunt and berry-pick, and it's not just a hobby. It's a way to have something fresh in your palate.
When I would visit my family or travel in the 48, I would go food crazy. I would eat out for as many meals as I could afford, the more exotic the meal, the better. I would go to the grocery and spend $50 in the produce section alone, then go spread it out on my mom's table and just smell it, hold it, feel it in my hands, giggle over it with my then-little daughter. When I moved to Kansas, my first home in the 48 after Alaska, I hit every farmer's market within an hour's drive. There were whole days when I didn't actually eat meals, just a string of produce items.
It's the kind of appreciation that can only derive from deprivation.
Even now that I've lived in the 48 for another ten years after leaving Alaska, I still get that kind of grocery lust, that sensual pleasure in good food.
My now-and-always-husband likes to take me out to eat at least in part because of how much I obviously enjoy my food. I'm that person who is bouncing in her chair and making yummy noises and gets really excited over something new on the plate. I'm asking the wait staff about the ingredients, what kind of tea is in my iced tea and what that new green is in my salad. I can't help myself. At least it makes him smile.
So, I made it through, and only bought a few things this year. Weaver Street stollen bread for breakfast today. Tomorrow, it might be safe to go into the grocery store again. I know I'll never fully control my grocery lust, but I can manage it, by letting it out here and there, for the really good stuff.
