It is my 66th birthday. I am speechless. I am now on the down side of my sixties. Going straight to hell. 6 6 6.
As birthdays go (and I wish this one would) this day has been similar to many of the 60's birthdays that preceeded it.The weather sucks. It's too cold to do anything fun. It's so cold the restaurant where we had reservations called to cancel us - because it's too cold. Wind chill is minus 40 and that's with the sun shining. I was looking forward to calamari in as many iterations as they could possibly concoct for me. That's not happening. Everything around us is closing. Wimps. Canned tuna may have to do. Canned tuna and a great imagination.
My best birthday of the 60-decade so far was my 60th. In Las Vegas. Wearing a rhinestone "60" crown in my BROWN hair and a "This is what 60 looks like" tee shirt we casino hopped ate amazing Italian food, drank a lot, opened ridiculous gifts, and fulfilled a lifetime fantasy by participating in a skit at Second City. (I am a frustrated performer) Despite the fact that our friends were fighting and my husband was drop down drunk...it was a great kick-off to another decade
So - left with nothing fun to do and nothing good to eat today, I find myself ruminating on confessing something. I've decided that I will confess some of my guilty pleasures. You know - those things that are crass,or tasteless, unsophisticated, not cool, or embarrassing to admit you like but you like anyway but don't admit to anyone.
I'm rambling so I'm just going to start listing a few things.
Velveeta: Disgusting, non-dairy, coagulated orange oil product with no redeeming food value. And if it happens to find it's way into my refrigerator (for whatever reason) I devour it...a little bit at a time until it is gone. Yes, I do.
Red Lobster Shrimp Scampi: Buttery, garlicky, fat-filled and wonderful. So good in fact that I can ignore the other people who come there to eat....who may also be hoping that no one saw them come in or will see them going out. I actually have their recipe (or one that pretends to be). It's close. Maybe one needs to be in the Red Lobster atmosphere in order to fully experience the intricacies of this dish. Home doesn't cut it.
Tuna casserole: Although I haven't had it in at least ten years, I still list it among my desert island foods. Could it be the velveeta or the crunchy fried onions on top?
Dark Chocolate covered cherries. Yum. No explanation necessary. Any brand - even the drugstore kind.
Kenny G: What can I say. Love the alto sax. Not cool;don't care
Barry Manilow: In concert or not. How can you dislike a guy who wrote a song about you right around the time of the BIG break-up.
Shirley Temple movies: I used to love Sunday afternoons when I could always count on a Shirley movie to be on one of the local channels. I know the stories (they are all the same), the cast, the songs. If I could tap dance - I would be able to replicate the dance routines - if could dance.
All Doris Day/Rock Hudson/Cary Grant combo movies. Doris and either of these guys is a winning combination for pure schmaltz. Love it.
All Cary Grant movies.
Charlie Chan movies: Sooooooo politically incorrect
Um Bop: That bubble gum teeney bopper song from the 80's. Makes me dance.
Superman: TV version with George Reeves. Probably know the scripts by heart. I would have made a great Lois Lane rocking those stupid hats and bad suits.
CATS: Saw it;loved it and don't care how much people make fun of it. I still cry when the old cat sings.
"Say Yes to the Dress": I cannot explain the attraction. I don't like weddings and I've worked in a bridal salon (one of the worst jobs of my life). But I watch this show almost every opportunity I get. By myself. Telling no one.(I have discovered that I harbor deep dislike for mermaid dresses, followed quickly by "fit and flare" styles. So unflattering.)
I'll stop here. I have to re-direct my thoughts to finding a way to save the day. If I hurry I can catch the afternoon edition of "Say yes..." while I consider where to get some take-out that will soothe the pain of not eating Pasta Calamari at Mimma's. I still have some chocolate covered cherries hidden away from Christmas and I believe that some of the music stations way way up on the cable play broadway show tunes. Meow.
Monday, January 6, 2014
Friday, January 3, 2014
A brief bathroom dilemma
So, what would you do if you walked into a bathroom in your home (not "your" bathroom), pulled back the shower curtain and saw a 12 inch, lifelike (although not like anyone I've ever known) rubber dildo resting across your soap dish? If you're me you stare it it (just to be sure your aging eyes aren't fooling you), then you pick it up, then you look around the room (for no reason at all) while it jiggles to and fro in your hand.
That was me two days ago. Standing in a bathroom in my home - a bathroom several people were using because it was a holiday and they were guests - staring at a Caucasian, flesh-toned replica of the largest penis you could imagine...complete with appropriate (or so I'm told) color gradations to make it more lifelike.
Who would forget to take this from a bathroom?!!! It's not like leaving your tweezers on the sink.
I struggled with leaving it outside the door in a plastic bag...discreet? I considered asking specific people whether they had lost track of anything important? I considered putting it in our room and waiting for someone to confide in me. I also toyed with taking a series of funny pictures of it and texting the pix to my gay friend in Washington DC. (and putting it back where I'd found it afterwards, of course).
What did I do? Yup. You guessed it. They were great pictures. He and I spent hours captioning and re-captioning them. Laughing our butts off (so to speak) and considering all the possibilities and ramifications of ownership. It was a great way to ride out a snowstorm.
What would you have done?
That was me two days ago. Standing in a bathroom in my home - a bathroom several people were using because it was a holiday and they were guests - staring at a Caucasian, flesh-toned replica of the largest penis you could imagine...complete with appropriate (or so I'm told) color gradations to make it more lifelike.
Who would forget to take this from a bathroom?!!! It's not like leaving your tweezers on the sink.
I struggled with leaving it outside the door in a plastic bag...discreet? I considered asking specific people whether they had lost track of anything important? I considered putting it in our room and waiting for someone to confide in me. I also toyed with taking a series of funny pictures of it and texting the pix to my gay friend in Washington DC. (and putting it back where I'd found it afterwards, of course).
What did I do? Yup. You guessed it. They were great pictures. He and I spent hours captioning and re-captioning them. Laughing our butts off (so to speak) and considering all the possibilities and ramifications of ownership. It was a great way to ride out a snowstorm.
What would you have done?
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Oh Tannenbaum you s.o.b.
It's no secret that I'm not exactly your classic "holiday person". Once the kids are grown, the holidays just don't tickle my tootsies...or anything else for that matter.
This year the holiday began with a new tree....not a NEW new tree - a used one that my friend offered to us when she and her husband downsized. ( They still had three full sized trees left, I believe. She's all about the holidays) The tree we received isn't your run of the mill faker...It definitely cost a sizable chunk of change way back when it was purchased. Prelit and all ready to go. Just fluff the branches and it will be Christmas. It came to us snugly ensconced in a rugged canvas bag with zippers and velcro and pull strings and hidden metal rings at the top and bottom carefully tucked inside the bag lining. It was quite a bag. The bagged tree lived in a corner of our garage all summer and fall. When December hit we decided that maybe we should look at this tree and see if it would work in our modest, middle class house.
How to get it in the house? Realistically it would make the most sense to take it outside and then enter the house through the front door. It would be the path of least resistance. But we didn't do it that way, of course. We chose to enter through the inner garage door that leads into our kitchen, hallway and family room (think "family room" 1970's style- no high ceilings). In case you are not familiar with 1970's architecture (and I use that term loosely) - it is based on the theory of "nothing is open and nothing is easily accessed". Every room in my house is walled off from another and requires walking through hallways and making a series of twists and turns.( Are you jealous yet?)
The tree, we soon learned, was not only bulky, it was also heavy. And while we could drag it to the door, lifting it and getting it inside proved a tough assignment for two 65+ year old slackers. But we did it. A lot of yelling, "Watch it! Stop! You're stuck on something!" and "Fuck, this is hard!". So we got it into the house. The top of the tree lay on the floor just inside the door, the base rested on our kitchen floor. In order to move it to the living room we would have to hoist it about four feet to clear a useless half wall that marks the entry to the kitchen. More swearing. Once passed the kitchen, we next had to make a sharp left turn in the "foyer' (ahem) in order to get into the living room. Furniture had to be moved. And once again the tree had to be lifted high enough to clear the banister at the bottom of the stairs. We scratched two walls, gouged the edge of one step and, dripping in sweat, we finally reached the living room. We dropped the tree to the floor and left it there....blocking this entry to the room, for three days.
On day four our goal was to remove the tree from the bag. I looked for the zipper. There were several - but they didn't do much. Opened a pocket here and there maybe. I unvelcroed some straps. Didn't do much. I tugged on some strings and loosened them,. I pulled at the bottom hidden ring to see if I could slip the canvas down. All this was fruitless. The logical, practical one long zipper that I needed did not exist. Once again Bob and I tugged, coaxed and cajoled the canvas cover. It yielded a few top branches. I removed the base. That did nothing except make the tree unable to stand on its own. And - ta da - I realized that the bottom of the pole near the base was bent! (Did we do this? Who knows.) I broke down and called my friend. "How the hell do you get this tree out of the bag???" She laughed. Once she pulled herself together she admitted that unwrapping the tree was, to be sure, a miserable task. "Be patient. You kind of have to wiggle it down. And don't remove the canvas bag. It stays at the base and you cover it with your tree skirt "(Who the hell has a tree skirt? Not me I do, however have nice black pencil skirt.)
Two hours and several mishaps later we freed the tree, reattached the stand (but first we tried to hammer the pole to straighten it. Um not happening) We spent 20 minutes propping the tree to make it look straight and then plugged it in. The prelit tree had sections of dead lights, naturally. We added two strands to the dark area, fluffed the branches (but not well) and declared the mission complete. Several days later I decorated it...and tried to fill in the unfluffed areas. It was ok. I don't enjoy decorating trees, (Sorry Christmas freaks) Persons entering our house were warned to NOT mention that the tree was crooked or they would be asked to leave.
In all the years we've had trees, no one has ever gone out of their way to complement one. But oddly, this year, the Xmas eve family gathering was loaded with "That tree is so pretty." "I like like that thing you did with feathers." "Wow, nice tree." With each complement I waited for a punchline that never came. I guess it's a good thing to get everyone liquored up on Xmas eve....everything looks better when seen through a wine haze.
We are still debating what to do this week when we un-decorate. Will we reuse the cursed canvas? Should I go to Costco and buy industrial sized plastic wrap and try that instead?
And the big question? How the hell are we going to get it back to the garage? Bob suggested that we donate the tree to the trash guys. He may have the best idea. I don't know how the trash guys will like it though.
This year the holiday began with a new tree....not a NEW new tree - a used one that my friend offered to us when she and her husband downsized. ( They still had three full sized trees left, I believe. She's all about the holidays) The tree we received isn't your run of the mill faker...It definitely cost a sizable chunk of change way back when it was purchased. Prelit and all ready to go. Just fluff the branches and it will be Christmas. It came to us snugly ensconced in a rugged canvas bag with zippers and velcro and pull strings and hidden metal rings at the top and bottom carefully tucked inside the bag lining. It was quite a bag. The bagged tree lived in a corner of our garage all summer and fall. When December hit we decided that maybe we should look at this tree and see if it would work in our modest, middle class house.
How to get it in the house? Realistically it would make the most sense to take it outside and then enter the house through the front door. It would be the path of least resistance. But we didn't do it that way, of course. We chose to enter through the inner garage door that leads into our kitchen, hallway and family room (think "family room" 1970's style- no high ceilings). In case you are not familiar with 1970's architecture (and I use that term loosely) - it is based on the theory of "nothing is open and nothing is easily accessed". Every room in my house is walled off from another and requires walking through hallways and making a series of twists and turns.( Are you jealous yet?)
The tree, we soon learned, was not only bulky, it was also heavy. And while we could drag it to the door, lifting it and getting it inside proved a tough assignment for two 65+ year old slackers. But we did it. A lot of yelling, "Watch it! Stop! You're stuck on something!" and "Fuck, this is hard!". So we got it into the house. The top of the tree lay on the floor just inside the door, the base rested on our kitchen floor. In order to move it to the living room we would have to hoist it about four feet to clear a useless half wall that marks the entry to the kitchen. More swearing. Once passed the kitchen, we next had to make a sharp left turn in the "foyer' (ahem) in order to get into the living room. Furniture had to be moved. And once again the tree had to be lifted high enough to clear the banister at the bottom of the stairs. We scratched two walls, gouged the edge of one step and, dripping in sweat, we finally reached the living room. We dropped the tree to the floor and left it there....blocking this entry to the room, for three days.
On day four our goal was to remove the tree from the bag. I looked for the zipper. There were several - but they didn't do much. Opened a pocket here and there maybe. I unvelcroed some straps. Didn't do much. I tugged on some strings and loosened them,. I pulled at the bottom hidden ring to see if I could slip the canvas down. All this was fruitless. The logical, practical one long zipper that I needed did not exist. Once again Bob and I tugged, coaxed and cajoled the canvas cover. It yielded a few top branches. I removed the base. That did nothing except make the tree unable to stand on its own. And - ta da - I realized that the bottom of the pole near the base was bent! (Did we do this? Who knows.) I broke down and called my friend. "How the hell do you get this tree out of the bag???" She laughed. Once she pulled herself together she admitted that unwrapping the tree was, to be sure, a miserable task. "Be patient. You kind of have to wiggle it down. And don't remove the canvas bag. It stays at the base and you cover it with your tree skirt "(Who the hell has a tree skirt? Not me I do, however have nice black pencil skirt.)
Two hours and several mishaps later we freed the tree, reattached the stand (but first we tried to hammer the pole to straighten it. Um not happening) We spent 20 minutes propping the tree to make it look straight and then plugged it in. The prelit tree had sections of dead lights, naturally. We added two strands to the dark area, fluffed the branches (but not well) and declared the mission complete. Several days later I decorated it...and tried to fill in the unfluffed areas. It was ok. I don't enjoy decorating trees, (Sorry Christmas freaks) Persons entering our house were warned to NOT mention that the tree was crooked or they would be asked to leave.
In all the years we've had trees, no one has ever gone out of their way to complement one. But oddly, this year, the Xmas eve family gathering was loaded with "That tree is so pretty." "I like like that thing you did with feathers." "Wow, nice tree." With each complement I waited for a punchline that never came. I guess it's a good thing to get everyone liquored up on Xmas eve....everything looks better when seen through a wine haze.
We are still debating what to do this week when we un-decorate. Will we reuse the cursed canvas? Should I go to Costco and buy industrial sized plastic wrap and try that instead?
And the big question? How the hell are we going to get it back to the garage? Bob suggested that we donate the tree to the trash guys. He may have the best idea. I don't know how the trash guys will like it though.
Friday, December 20, 2013
A Target Moment
Trying to suck up to us because someone may have stolen Target customers' credit information this week - Target has begun a new customer service program. I think.
Picture this: Me, wandering thorough the aisles....touching, looking, picking up..a.blissed out "guest"...minding my own business...
When suddenly what to my wondering eyes should appear but the face of a Target associate....maybe a foot away from my face, ":Ma'am, are you finding everything okay?" I mumbled something and walked away. Exactly 3 minutes later...in another aisle....another face, "Ma'am are you finding everything ok?" (Hey - do I look lost...or feeble...is it this damn hair again? Grey is a dull color but does not necessarily indicate a dull mind)
I looked at her and softly said. "This is Target. I'm a woman. I come here at least once a week. I really don't need help finding anything.i know where everything is. This is TARGET and your concern would make sense in a Sports Authority. I'm just fine on my own here. But thanks for asking.."
Bitch that I am.
I left. Not my best moment
But satisfying
Picture this: Me, wandering thorough the aisles....touching, looking, picking up..a.blissed out "guest"...minding my own business...
When suddenly what to my wondering eyes should appear but the face of a Target associate....maybe a foot away from my face, ":Ma'am, are you finding everything okay?" I mumbled something and walked away. Exactly 3 minutes later...in another aisle....another face, "Ma'am are you finding everything ok?" (Hey - do I look lost...or feeble...is it this damn hair again? Grey is a dull color but does not necessarily indicate a dull mind)
I looked at her and softly said. "This is Target. I'm a woman. I come here at least once a week. I really don't need help finding anything.i know where everything is. This is TARGET and your concern would make sense in a Sports Authority. I'm just fine on my own here. But thanks for asking.."
Bitch that I am.
I left. Not my best moment
But satisfying
Sunday, December 8, 2013
The Thanksgiving Story....my version
This Thanksgiving I thought I'd do myself a favor and reduce the cooking load. After all, I'm not Dolly Domestic and while I like having family around for dinner, it's not much fun to be chained to the kitchen for ten hours, or to sit down late (after everything is cold) and to eat things you've been sampling all day. Cooking for the holidays is a punishment.
This year I ordered a prepared "Holiday Meal for a Family of 6 - 8 People" from my local grocery store. That's what the brochure said anyway. This was to include dressing, mashed potatoes, gravy, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, cranberry compote and some kind of raspberry cobbler, and, of course a 10-12 pound turkey. Cooked. All I had to do was return it to the oven for 2 hours to warm it up. I envisioned a day of leisure. I would prepare a salad, maybe a few appetizers...not a lot. Someone else was bringing pies. Bliss.
The week before the holiday a little voice in my head suggested buying a turkey breast - just in case the prepared turkey wasn't big enough to feed everyone. It would also ensure that we had leftovers. Cause everyone eats turkey sammies on Thanksgiving night. So I bought one. ( Word of advice: Always listen to the voice in your head. )
Two days before Thanksgiving I crawled to the store (this was 2 days after a trip to the ER for stomach pain) and bought everything I'd need for salad, appetizers and so on. While walking though the store the little voice returned and suggested maybe buying some potatoes in case we didn't get enough in our "prepared meal"....and while I was at it, maybe break down and buy some extra gravy "just in case". As I neared the checkout line the little voice once again whispered a suggestion...."dressing" it said. What if there wasn't enough? I bought a bag, some sausage, apples and broth. We'd have two kinds of stuffing I guess.
The day before Thanksgiving I picked up the "prepared dinner". The first thing I encountered was an elaborate schedule, colorfully assembled to make my prep simple and flawless. At this hour you unwrap the turkey, at this hour you pop this container in the microwave etc. Very nice. Very neat. Very organized. Inside the box were many black containers of sides - ready to line up for their appointed time the microwave or the oven. The problem was that absolutely none of these containers would feed 6-8 people in my family. In fact, I question whether any family of more than 3 (including a toddler) would be sufficiently sated with these sides. So, a family of 6-8 what? Little people? Munchkins? Anorexics? There wasn't enough gravy to cover two mounds of mashed potatoes. The green bean casserole could be doled out in 6 melon ball scoops and it would be gone. You get the picture.
In the end I spent ten hours chained to the stove making mashed potatoes, dressing, green bean casserole, a turkey breast, salad and appetizers. My food went first...the prepared stuff didn't interest too many people. (Except the turkey - their turkey was good) Most of the sides got thrown out two days later. I sat down when most were on their second helpings and beginning to groan. My restricted diet allowed me a chunk of white meat (from the breast I cooked) and some potatoes and gravy. I took a few bites. Not hungry.
This wasn't the bliss I had envisioned for myself.....but everyone else looked mighty blissful and bloated.
Next year I'm making reservations.
This year I ordered a prepared "Holiday Meal for a Family of 6 - 8 People" from my local grocery store. That's what the brochure said anyway. This was to include dressing, mashed potatoes, gravy, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, cranberry compote and some kind of raspberry cobbler, and, of course a 10-12 pound turkey. Cooked. All I had to do was return it to the oven for 2 hours to warm it up. I envisioned a day of leisure. I would prepare a salad, maybe a few appetizers...not a lot. Someone else was bringing pies. Bliss.
The week before the holiday a little voice in my head suggested buying a turkey breast - just in case the prepared turkey wasn't big enough to feed everyone. It would also ensure that we had leftovers. Cause everyone eats turkey sammies on Thanksgiving night. So I bought one. ( Word of advice: Always listen to the voice in your head. )
Two days before Thanksgiving I crawled to the store (this was 2 days after a trip to the ER for stomach pain) and bought everything I'd need for salad, appetizers and so on. While walking though the store the little voice returned and suggested maybe buying some potatoes in case we didn't get enough in our "prepared meal"....and while I was at it, maybe break down and buy some extra gravy "just in case". As I neared the checkout line the little voice once again whispered a suggestion...."dressing" it said. What if there wasn't enough? I bought a bag, some sausage, apples and broth. We'd have two kinds of stuffing I guess.
The day before Thanksgiving I picked up the "prepared dinner". The first thing I encountered was an elaborate schedule, colorfully assembled to make my prep simple and flawless. At this hour you unwrap the turkey, at this hour you pop this container in the microwave etc. Very nice. Very neat. Very organized. Inside the box were many black containers of sides - ready to line up for their appointed time the microwave or the oven. The problem was that absolutely none of these containers would feed 6-8 people in my family. In fact, I question whether any family of more than 3 (including a toddler) would be sufficiently sated with these sides. So, a family of 6-8 what? Little people? Munchkins? Anorexics? There wasn't enough gravy to cover two mounds of mashed potatoes. The green bean casserole could be doled out in 6 melon ball scoops and it would be gone. You get the picture.
In the end I spent ten hours chained to the stove making mashed potatoes, dressing, green bean casserole, a turkey breast, salad and appetizers. My food went first...the prepared stuff didn't interest too many people. (Except the turkey - their turkey was good) Most of the sides got thrown out two days later. I sat down when most were on their second helpings and beginning to groan. My restricted diet allowed me a chunk of white meat (from the breast I cooked) and some potatoes and gravy. I took a few bites. Not hungry.
This wasn't the bliss I had envisioned for myself.....but everyone else looked mighty blissful and bloated.
Next year I'm making reservations.
Been gone so long...
Until recently I truly believed that I had some control over the state of my body. Good eating. Moderate exercise (albeit irregular), regular check ups...I'm.like a car I want to keep driving for a long time. My friend - who does not take very good care of herself (she takes better care of her car)- did some research on doing all the right things to stay healthy and concluded that by doing everything right we gain about 3 months. In the end turning down that brownie or that hot crusty French bread may not be worth the sacrifice. I think I'd rather die with brownie crumbs and frosting on my lips than kale and quinoa. In fact - I'd rather be dead than eat either one of those things. But I digress.
I have had a six month battle with lady-part issues that all stemmed from that one fateful visit to the female gynecologist who found the "bump". Then the subsequent surgery and mini-remodel. The discovery of HPV hiding in my body and the news that most people have it but don't know it, How comforting. (See blog entry entitled "the new adventures of old Mandy" if you want the details. ) Late this summer, still not feeling fully right and still having problems, I also discovered an outbreak of - are you ready for this (cause I wasn't) Herpes. WTF? I've never ever ever had an outbreak of anything transmittable 65 years. I almost fell off the exam table. What? How? God knows I've been good for 19 years (for once in my life).Not even a cold sore. Ever. My first thought was my husband had a bit of 'splainin to do...but the doctor said I could have been there sleeping for twenty or thirty years. Something just woke it up. Maybe the surgery. I would never know, he told me. (Yea but I WANT to know) Took some supressant drugs and it went back to sleep. For now.
Recently I had a run-in with genes. My mom's to be exact. Right before Thanksgiving I experienced my first full blown - go to the ER attack of diverticulitis. I'm still recovering. For the record, I don't recommend this condition. Nor do I know how to avoid having it happen again because they really have no freaking idea why it happens but it happens mostly to older people (yeah, that'd be me) and may be preventable with a high fiber diet - which I normally eat. So much for good car care. Ironically the diet they put you on to heal is the white bread diet. White bread, white pasta, no raw or fibrous veggies or fruits (except canned), no nuts, seeds or beans. Lots of bananas, mashed potatoes, chicken noodle soup and jello.
I don't think that gastroenterology is a exact science.
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Food Fight
I am not a food snob..or a foodie for that matter,.and maybe that's my problem. Compared to the many food obsessive people around me,,,I am best described as a food fuddyduddy. I'm fussy. My palate is not sophisticated. A lot of foods and flavors make me sick.I don't like being sick. (This sickness thing is a long dull story - and I'll spare you) My taste range for flavor and spices (especially spices) is narrow (you'd think with all this my butt would be narrow too...but it isn't). So when the simple act of meeting someone for a late weekend breakfast becomes a struggle...I know I'm going to have to figure out how to step up my game or skip food dates with friends.
Let me begin this with a critical piece of information. I was born into the House of Butter and I spent a long stretch of time in the House of Hamburgers, corn-on-the cob, spaghetti and boiled meat. I don't know if there have been studies on this but I believe that the first eight years of life may play a critical role in forming a person's food tastes. At least it formed mine. I lived mostly with my grandparents and my grandmother was a lousy, really really lousy cook. I simply cannot recall anything she ever cooked except pot roast which I think she boiled in buttered water for days . (Today we would call this braising...but we would add some flavor). But there was no one on earth who could bake like she did - that more than made up for it. My grandfather was from the old country - Italy. He kept a vat of "medicinal" Dago Red in the basement, loved eating the fat on the meat, ate tons of bread and fresh vegetables with gallons of olive oil. I don't know how he survived her cooking.
When I wasn't with my "Gug" and "Pup" I was with my aunt and uncle. My aunt hated anything to do with the kitchen. She could cook 4 things: hamburgers, corn-on-the-cob, spaghetti and Campbells soup. When I was with her at their lake house - one of these (sometimes only one of these) comprised our dinners - unless we went out (which we did often). I never fully realized that having only corn-on-the-cob for dinner was not healthy. Who thinks about this stuff at 6,7,or 8 years old? Not me.
When I went to live with my Mom I enjoyed amazingly high calorie, fatty foods - most of which were cooked with lots of butter. The only spice she used was garlic and salt. She made the best fries (cooked in butter), the best burgers (also in butter) and the best leg of lamb I've ever eaten. She also had a cholesterol over 400 for most of her life.
Fast forward to now. I understand healthy eating. I eat a balanced diet and love veggies and fruit,. My meat consumption is low. I am terrified of fresh fish because who the hell wants to eat something that swims in its own feces and is full of mercury (I make an exception for salmon and canned tuna with mercury). Sushi (especially anything from the pacific) isNOT on my menu. Ever. But I have never acquired a taste for anything spicy that is hot, semi-hot or overpowering. So I eat minimal Mexican, no Indian, loathe most German (hearty) foods on so on. Boring ol me. Like my Mom, I cook mostly with garlic - but unlike my mom, no butter (mostly)
So today I am meeting a foodie friend for breakfast. I don't like breakfast - I'd rather have a tuna salad sandwich. Eggs are dull. Bacon is unhealthy and heavy, I never touch sausage of any kind and pancakes/waffles are too sweet. I DO love lox and cream cheese but it isn't available everywhere.
My friend tossed out a few places we might meet. She suggested a tea room where we once ate lunch and I had to stop on my way home for some real food. She suggested a German place with a menu full of sausages and thick bacon. Other suggestions were a vegan/vegetarian place that specializes in raw foods. (seriously?) A tofu and cucumber sandwich? A sweet carrot and radish sandwich? RAW mocha cheesecake? Quinoa skillet? Yuck. I'd rather lick the inside of a fish tank.
So I found a place that may suit both of us and we're meeting there at noon. I hope this works. It is also a "healthy" restaurant (quinoa and kale are both on the menu) but I can construct something that may be filling and tasty. But I confess that I just tossed two left over Halloween chocolate bars into my purse...just in case. Just in case.
Let me begin this with a critical piece of information. I was born into the House of Butter and I spent a long stretch of time in the House of Hamburgers, corn-on-the cob, spaghetti and boiled meat. I don't know if there have been studies on this but I believe that the first eight years of life may play a critical role in forming a person's food tastes. At least it formed mine. I lived mostly with my grandparents and my grandmother was a lousy, really really lousy cook. I simply cannot recall anything she ever cooked except pot roast which I think she boiled in buttered water for days . (Today we would call this braising...but we would add some flavor). But there was no one on earth who could bake like she did - that more than made up for it. My grandfather was from the old country - Italy. He kept a vat of "medicinal" Dago Red in the basement, loved eating the fat on the meat, ate tons of bread and fresh vegetables with gallons of olive oil. I don't know how he survived her cooking.
When I wasn't with my "Gug" and "Pup" I was with my aunt and uncle. My aunt hated anything to do with the kitchen. She could cook 4 things: hamburgers, corn-on-the-cob, spaghetti and Campbells soup. When I was with her at their lake house - one of these (sometimes only one of these) comprised our dinners - unless we went out (which we did often). I never fully realized that having only corn-on-the-cob for dinner was not healthy. Who thinks about this stuff at 6,7,or 8 years old? Not me.
When I went to live with my Mom I enjoyed amazingly high calorie, fatty foods - most of which were cooked with lots of butter. The only spice she used was garlic and salt. She made the best fries (cooked in butter), the best burgers (also in butter) and the best leg of lamb I've ever eaten. She also had a cholesterol over 400 for most of her life.
Fast forward to now. I understand healthy eating. I eat a balanced diet and love veggies and fruit,. My meat consumption is low. I am terrified of fresh fish because who the hell wants to eat something that swims in its own feces and is full of mercury (I make an exception for salmon and canned tuna with mercury). Sushi (especially anything from the pacific) isNOT on my menu. Ever. But I have never acquired a taste for anything spicy that is hot, semi-hot or overpowering. So I eat minimal Mexican, no Indian, loathe most German (hearty) foods on so on. Boring ol me. Like my Mom, I cook mostly with garlic - but unlike my mom, no butter (mostly)
So today I am meeting a foodie friend for breakfast. I don't like breakfast - I'd rather have a tuna salad sandwich. Eggs are dull. Bacon is unhealthy and heavy, I never touch sausage of any kind and pancakes/waffles are too sweet. I DO love lox and cream cheese but it isn't available everywhere.
My friend tossed out a few places we might meet. She suggested a tea room where we once ate lunch and I had to stop on my way home for some real food. She suggested a German place with a menu full of sausages and thick bacon. Other suggestions were a vegan/vegetarian place that specializes in raw foods. (seriously?) A tofu and cucumber sandwich? A sweet carrot and radish sandwich? RAW mocha cheesecake? Quinoa skillet? Yuck. I'd rather lick the inside of a fish tank.
So I found a place that may suit both of us and we're meeting there at noon. I hope this works. It is also a "healthy" restaurant (quinoa and kale are both on the menu) but I can construct something that may be filling and tasty. But I confess that I just tossed two left over Halloween chocolate bars into my purse...just in case. Just in case.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)