May 16, 2008
Are we what we eat?
My food fantasy: Grace and I walk hand in hand each day to New Seasons to see what's fresh that I might transform into a healthy, tasty dinner. (Yes, I know I should go to the farmers' market, but that involves getting up early on a Saturday morning and jostling through a crush of neo-hippies with babies in slings and dogs in tow. That is so not my scene, man.) I used to plan dinner parties that required hours, even days, of preparation and were intended to impress more than anything. I think I achieved near perfection once, with a truly delicious meal that went off without a hitch. It was an empty victory. I think the women (whom I didn't know well) regarded me as a bit of a nut job, and had they not been so cool, they probably would have figured I was just showing off. (I'm glad they didn't hold it against me, because we became good friends.) Anyway, one night we had a couple of neighbors over, spur of the moment. I pan seared some nice steaks, and someone made mashed potatoes and someone else sauteed some spinach and we opened a bottle of yummy wine and sat down to eat. It was so casual and easy, and after a few minutes, J. Po grinned and said, "I'm so happy right now." Now THAT was perfect. I still like to cook occasionally, and I love going out, but sometimes it feels like such an effort to get enough food into my body each day. (I blame Grace, because when I was nursing it really was almost impossible to keep myself fed adequately, and now I have to make sure SHE doesn't starve, or end up with scurvy.)
My food reality: this is as close as I've come to a "food pill." And you know what? Grace loves these.