Bermuda Triangle

Mary arrives home and pulls into driveway at 9:15 p.m. While it is true that she is home earlier than expected, it is important to note that during the summer Mary has become somewhat of a quasi-nocturnal creature, sometimes not returning home until 10:00 p.m. This is significant because while Mary is not a nocturnal creature, it is accurate to say that the unusual earlyish-late hour would naturally startle anyone whom she might catch unawares.

As she walks up the sidewalk, Mary senses the chaos before actually seeing it or hearing it. She opens front door to a cavalcade of noise and light and smell and visual bedlam emanating from the kitchen. And there, bustling around, are her three sons: One home from college to attend a funeral, one soon to leave on a European vacation, and one recently relocated to south Jersey by his engineering company.

At first she is shocked to paralysis merely by the appearance of all three in the kitchen at the same time. This is an anomaly, an event that usually only occurs twice a year: once on Thanksgiving Day, and then again on Christmas.

But this Bermuda Triangle of boys has descended upon her kitchen on September 6th, 2022.

After the initial shock, Mary notices the activity. Boy One stirs thick soup over a burner turned so high that the soup bubbles and spurts onto the burners and onto the floor. Boy Two is making potato skins, slopping sour cream onto a plate, often missing. Boy Three pours Chinese food from leftover containers into a casserole dish, whereupon he throws dish into microwave. Lo Mein and fried rice litter the floor and counter.

Mary stands, aghast the spectacle, and three boys look up, frozen at the sight of her.

(Not like deer in headlights. That is a tired cliché. More like three brothers who committed a murder, and are now huddled over the bathtub, hacking the body into pieces so that the drain catches the blood run-off).

Mary: (Speechless)

Boy 1: Oh, um, hi Mom.

Mary: Hi.

Boy 2: Wow, um, you’re home early.

Mary: Yes.

Silence.

Boy 3: Mom, this is not what it looks like.

Mary: (Sigh).

Sure it is.

Nitpickers

Trying to keep my boys’ food likes and dislikes straight:

Eggs:

Boy 1: Scrambled and over light, but not egg salad, deviled eggs, or hard-boiled. The smell of hard-boiled or deviled eggs in the refrigerator will make him feel like throwing up.

Boy 2: All eggs, all day. Can eat a dozen deviled eggs standing in front of the open refrigerator.

Boy 3: Likes over light, but will only dip toast in it. Will not eat the egg after dipping, because it makes him feel like throwing up. No scrambled in a pan, but will eat scrambled egg in a restaurant breakfast sandwich. No egg salad, no hard-boiled, no deviled, no how.

Steak:

Boy 1: Medium rare to rare. Bloody, please.

Boy 2: Medium well to medium. Tinge of blood is ok, but don’t overdo it.

Boy 3: Medium to well. Barely pink. Bloody steak makes him want to throw up.

Milk:

Boy 1: Chocolate milk all day. Dark, lots of chocolate. Hershey’s syrup. No plain, that will make him want to throw up. Almond is good, too.

Boy 2: Regular milk, please. No almond, that makes him want to throw up.

Boy 3: Chocolate milk, please, light. Nesquik powder. No plain, makes him want to throw up.

Bread:

Boy 1: White toast with eggs and for grilled cheese. Whole grain with chicken salad.

Boy 2: Whole grain for sandwiches. White with eggs and blt’s.

Boy 3: White, all day. No whole grain, makes him want to throw up.

Mayo:

Boy 1: Not too much, makes him want to throw up.

Boy 2: Extra mayo, lay it on thick, please.

Boy 3: No mayo, just the smell makes him want to throw up.

Grated cheese:

Boy 1: Thanks, that’s enough.

Boy 2: Whoa, too much, you trying to make me throw up?

Boy 3: Never enough. MORE!

Pasta:

Boy 1: Alfredo is good, but not with chicken, that makes him want to throw up.

Boy 2: Any kind but the kind with ricotta. Ricotta makes him want to throw up. No lasagna or ravioli. Meatballs are good.

Boy 3: Angel hair is favorite, with butter or ala vodka or rosa. No meatballs, that makes him want to throw up.

Yogurt:

Boy 1: Vanilla, strawberry, banana. Granola good in it. No fruit in it.

Boy 2: Vanilla only. Granola good in it. No fruit.

Boy 3: Vanilla and banana, no granola or fruit, are you trying to make me throw up?

Salads:

Boy 1: Greens, egg, chicken, purple onion, blue cheese- Cobb is favorite, but no tomato- tomato makes him want to throw up.

Boy 2: Greens, chicken, balsamic, crunchy stuff- no egg, that makes him want to throw up.

Boy 3: No salad of any kind, salads make him really want to throw up.

Avo:

Boy 1: Yes to guacamole and avo on sandwiches and in salads, not on toast, that makes him want to throw up.

Boy 2: Yes to avocado in any way.

Boy 3: Guac ok, no avo any other way, cause, well, the throw up thing.

Cereal:

Boy 1: Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

Boy 2: Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

Boy 3: Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

Pancakes/waffles/donuts:

Boy 1: No.

Boy 2: No.

Boy 3: Keep ‘em comin’.

Drinks:

Boy 1: Chocolate milk, water, cranberry, orange, Gatorade, Arnold Palmers. No soda.

Boy 2: Water, lemonade, fresh juices. No soda.

Boy 3: Water, juices, all sodas.

My grocery bill makes me want to throw up

Grapes of Wrath

I’m so disappointed in these grapes. Dang. I wish I had tested one in the store before I purchased them. And last week I was let down by a bag of plums. Produce simply isn’t ready yet.

Except for asparagus. Asparagus is always ready, like that annoying but good looking high-energy friend who shows up to take you out even though you made it very clear that you don’t want to leave the house.

“C’mon, let’s go,” he says, grinning and twirling his key ring around his fingers. “C’mon, let’s go, I’m ready, get ready, let’s go, let’s go, LET’S GO!”

Unlike most fruits, there’s not much to do with below-par grapes. It infuriates me.

Overripe apples? Apple pie, applesauce, apple brown betty, apple cake.

Spoiled bananas? Banana bread, banana pancakes, banana pudding, banana milkshakes.

Peaches? Peach cobbler, *peach sorbet, peach margaritas.

Berries? So many things. Put on top of pancakes or French toast, blend for smoothies, smash for preserves to put on your morning toast. Make some scones, muffins, throw into yogurt with some granola.

Grapes? Well, wine, I guess, for those who understand the fermentation process. And Waldorf chicken salad. That’s it. Why are grapes so culinarily…unversatile? It’s maddening. We think of grapes as a kind of berry, but they don’t have the same versatility of berries. Neither do plums. If I buy bad plums, I just toss ’em. Nothing to do with them. They just don’t live up to expectation.

But that’s probably just sour grapes.

*I don’t actually know how to make peach sorbet. Maybe this summer.

Hanger

Never grocery shop when hangry. Bad things happen. This was last week:

Product: PF Chang frozen fried rice

Argument: No! It’s too expensive. You can make this yourself so easily!

Rationale: Ready in 4 min. Convenient. I’m buying it.

Product: Pork shoulder.

Argument: What the hell are you going to do with that?

Rationale: Make split pea soup. Clear a spot, I’m buying it.

Product: Lifesaver gummies

Argument: Seriously?

Rationale: In the scheme of things, it’s the least damaging candy. I’m getting it.

Product: Julienned pre-cut carrots.

Argument: You’re going to spend almost ten dollars when you can cut them yourself?

Rationale: Look how cute they are, cut like this. Getting ‘em.

Product: Pub snack mix.

Argument: You will never eat these. You know you won’t.

Rationale: But they taste so good with gin-and-tonics at the bar. Yep.

Product: Cinnamon-raisin bread.

Argument: You’re off bread.

Rationale: That was yesterday. Move it.

Product: Cauliflower pizza

Argument: That’s vomitous.

Rationale: But Oprah made it.

Product: Blue-cheese stuffed olives.

Argument: That’s a big jar.

Rationale: It’s cost efficient.

Son, leaving to go back to city, raiding the kitchen: “Mom, can I really take anything back with me?”

Me: “Take it all.”

Fasting

According to my media schedule, I will be appearing on a health and fitness podcast in two weeks. The appearance was scheduled back in the fall, so I had to check my files to see what topic I would be discussing:

Intermittent fasting.

I’m not appearing as a health and fitness expert, or a nutritionist, or a trainer. Just as a mom who finds intermittent fasting to be the easiest, most miraculous way to feel good and lose weight.

I remember the interview with the podcast host back in the fall, and when he brought up intermittent fasting, I happened to be fasting at that time, and we talked enthusiastically. He liked my story enough to ask me to be a guest, and I had forgotten until just recently.

And I happen to be back to intermittent fasting. Good timing.

I did not diet or fast or limit myself before my TED talk, despite the pressure I felt to look good on stage. Maybe I should have, and maybe I will regret it, but I felt I didn’t need the added pressure of weight loss on top of preparing for my talk. Fuck it, I guess I thought to myself. I look how I look, and I knew I needed the energy that healthy food and carbs gave me.

Yes, I got sick anyway. But my talk was flawless. Sometimes the obstacle is the way.  

Intermittent fasting is like a miracle to me. I can never get over how easy it is. I start by eating only within eight hours, then I cut it to seven, then six, then five, if I can. This weekend I did a whole 24-hour fast, and when I finally ate, I ate well and moderately. My body responds almost immediately to fasting, and adjusts instantaneously. I feel so in control when I’m fasting.

No counting. No deprivation. No off-limit foods. The best part of is when you do eat, you instinctively choose healthy foods. It’s like your body has reset, and has remembered what it’s for, and what it craves.

Now I could use some intermittent f***ing. Dare to dream.

And Gorged

Have you ever sat across from someone when you’re out to eat, and you watch them eat and just think to yourself:

“Ew.”

I ask friends that all the time.

“Am I gross when I eat?”

“What?”

“Like when you sit across from me and watch me eat, are you repulsed?”

“No, why are you asking me that?”

“Because I need to know these things about myself.”

I want to know if eat badly. If I snore. If I’m badly dressed. If my hair is appropriate for someone my age. If I’m long-winded when I tell a story, or if I’m boring. I need to know these things, and I count on my close friends to tell me the truth.

The first time it occurred to me that some actors just shouldn’t eat on screen was during the movie “America’s Sweethearts.” Julia Roberts, having just been jilted by John Cusack, is shoving pancakes into her face and, while talking with her mouth full, begs the waitress for extra butter. Ew. I’m aware that it’s supposed to be gross- her character lost weight by giving up carbs, so she is enjoying a gastronomic carb fest by eating the whole buffet. But just as in the movie (I hated) “Eat Pray Love,” Julia Roberts should never, ever be shown eating on screen. There’s something about her mouth that makes it look as if a wide-mouthed bass is eating for your entertainment.

Julia, stop eating on screen. Please.

Some eating scenes are pleasurable. I could watch the scene in which Anton Ego eats ratatouille a million times. Same with John Travolta’s double pizza slice in “Saturday Night Fever.” But some actors can’t pull it off.

Amy Adams in “Julie and Julia.” This movie was all about food, and watching Amy Adams talk about and then eat poached eggs is repugnant. Something about her face, her hands and her voice that makes it just not work.

Jennifer Lopez eating pizza in “Selena.” Overdone, and yuk.

Super obscure, but Andie Macdowell in the movie “Michael.” Her character supposedly loves pie, even wrote a song about pie, but watching her eat different pies at the table was more of the same: a gorgeous brunette who simply can’t convince the audience that she’s really eating and enjoying.

Jerry Seinfeld. There’s no bigger Seinfeld fan, but the Sein is way too dainty or something. When he eats a bowl of cereal or anything in the coffee shop, I’m just not buying it. His little mouse bites make me want to scream, “Just eat already!”

Uma’s cheeseburger in “Pulp Fiction.” Uma never takes a real bite of that sandwich, and it’s maddening. She just kind of stares at John Travolta over the bun. You know Uma Thurman ain’t never scarfed a burger in her life, and it shows in that scene.

Bryce Dallas Howard eating the Terrible-Awful in “The Help.” Maybe because the pie was made of shit, but watching Howard scarf chocolate pie was just so unsatisfying.

Here’s hoping this weekend that you’re enjoying. Best!

Think Mas

Today’s post was supposed to be about the lost art of snow shoveling. But it can wait. I would like to regale you with something that happened to me yesterday. Please understand that this is a true story, and not embellished in the slightest.

Yesterday, as my house filled with the piquant aroma of a vegetable stew simmering in my slow-cooker, I looked up from my work realizing I needed tomato and beef bouillon. I texted my son to let him know I was headed out to the produce store and predictably, he asked if I could bring him back some lunch.

No stew? I asked.

No stew. Taco Bell, he said.

Ugh, fine, I answered.

The road Taco Bell resides on houses several fast food restaurants and banks, and I was careful to pay heed to signs and entrances. When I finally pulled up to the drive-through, the lanes were not moving at all. I watched as several cars in front of me actually pulled out of the drive-through lanes.

Admitting defeat, I thought. As my son had already ordered his food from his phone and paid, I had no choice but to wait.

And wait I did. I waited, and waited, and waited. I had never seen a drive-through line take so long. I texted him to complain about the delay, and to provide the insight that perhaps they were short workers. He apologized for wasting my time, and thanked me for taking time out of my day to bring him food.

Satisfied, I continued to wait. After twenty minutes, the lanes began moving and branching off, and I wondered how the outside lanes got their food. I had never been in that drive-through before, and thought there was some kind of methodology I was not privy to. I stuck to the left lane, and soon I was blocked in on all sides with the building on my left, and two lanes of cars on my right.

My inching forward was excruciatingly slow, but soon I finally turned the corner. I wondered where the ordering station was, so I could give the cashier my son’s pickup order number, but there didn’t seem to be one, or a menu either. It was all so strange, but familiar. Like I had been there before, but couldn’t place it. Had Taco Bell changed its ordering procedures?

WHAT WAS GOING ON?

I finally arrived at the window, and turned to the cashier, hoping she could shed light on my befuddlement. As the sliding drawer came towards me, I got a quick glimpse at its contents.

A TD Bank pen. I had spent a half hour in the TD Bank line.

I turned to the cashier and said, as casually as I could muster,

“Nothing for me, thanks.” And drove away.

Whycakein

I’m making a cake for Christmas.

I know what you’re going to say.

“So?”

My holiday MO, other than being my initials, is vowing to make a homemade cake, ignoring my vow for as long as possible, then driving a few miles to my favorite bakery and ordering one. Then when Christmas day comes, I can feel pride when I put that beautiful cake out on the table with the Christmas cookies, and watch as no one eats it.

Your family might be a dessert family. Good for you. My extended family is all about the food. The breakfast casserole, the cheeses, the dips, the prime rib, the ziti, the caprese salad, and the roast beef au jus. Desserts following the meal in my house is like the opening act following the headliner, and everyone is just drifting out of the stadium to get into their cars before the traffic gets bad.

I don’t even think it has anything to do with being full, or people on diets and not eating “sweets.” It’s just this massive Christmas holiday dessert…indifference, I guess.

I try something new every year. One year I made a layered pumpkin mousse trifle. Barely touched. Another year I ordered a Piecaken from Goldbelly. Barely touched. Another year I drove an hour to a “famous pie place,” and unveiled it on Christmas day in a grand fashion. After the initial “Ooooooohhhh,” it was barely touched. Cheesecake, pecan pie, homemade lemon meringue. Barely touched. And my boys don’t eat that stuff, not even doughnuts, so I end up putting the whole thing in the freezer, waiting until July when it’s finally freezer-burned, and then tossing it.

But I continue on, undaunted, in my search for a dessert that will get my family’s attention. Give it up, you say? Indeed not. Deciding on a dessert to throw in the trash in July is a tradition that I am unwilling to relinquish. And I’ve been saving this beautiful cake recipe for months.

This one will have three layers, homemade frosting, and filled with such a lovely and difficult to concoct confectionary delight that I won’t even reveal it here. And since the whole of my family thinks I’m full of it and therefore doesn’t read my blog, they won’t even know my plans.

So this is between you and me.

I’ll let you know in the New Year how it went. Tomorrow tune in for my last blog of the year, and a sage piece of advice: stay ever vigilant, my friends. If you don’t watch her, January can be a real bitch.

Zagna

I’d like to share my lasagna recipe with you today. This is a very special recipe, one that requires time and patience. Good luck.

Step 1: Crave lasagna.

Step 2: Buy lasagna noodles and place in pantry.

Step 3: Forget about them.

Step 4: Crave lasagna. Wish you had lasagna noodles.

Step 5: Buy another box of lasagna noodles and place in pantry next to first box.

Step 6: Boil water.

Step 7: Place first box of noodles in hot water.

Step 8: Reach in refrigerator for cheeses, and realize you don’t have any cheeses.

Step 9: Realize you’re too busy to go to the store again.

Step 10: Dispose of cooked noodles.

Step 11: Buy ricotta cheese on the way home from work.

Step 12: Get home and realize you forgot mozzarella.

Step 13: Rue the day you were born.

Step 14: Grab mozzarella on the way home from work.

Step 15: Get home and realize you have no sauce.

Step 16: Grab sauce on the way home from work.

Step 17: Assemble all ingredients, but cannot find the mozzarella.

Step 18: Realize your sons used the mozzarella to make midnight nachos.

Step 19: Order lasagna from the local Italian eatery.

Step 20. Enjoy.

Plenty of Soup For You!

(Little nod to the Soup Nazi there…)

Scares, sweaters and soups. Was there ever a better holiday trio? Here are ten soups I’ll be making as soon as the heat breaks AGAIN:

Creamy Roasted Cauliflower Soup. Lemon juice adds brightness while crushed red pepper adds a touch of heat. Toasted nuts bring a bit of crunch to this creamy soup. Yum.

One Pot Chicken and Cabbage Soup. Sherry vinegar adds a touch of brightness and pairs well with the medley of vegetables. Serve with crusty bread.

Meatball Soup. My mom made a version of this, so it will always remind me of coming in from the snow. She served it with warm blueberry muffins for some reason, so I have to make blueberry muffins when I make this. But crusty rolls work too. So easy, peasy and ‘licious.

Sausage Potato Soup. Lawdie. So good. Speaks for itself.

Escarole and Little Meatball Soup. Yeah, I’m Italian, what of it? This recipe was famous in my house, and it’s so easy that I find it hard to understand why people buy soup in cans. Serve with warm rolls, please, you peasants. JK!

Creamy Pumpkin Soup. I am NOT a fan of pumpkin soup, or squash soup, or cucumber soup, etc. But far be it from me to deny you the pleasure. So go for it, just leave me out of it.

Cream of Broccoli Soup. In these parts we fancy our cream of broccoli soup not pureed and thin, but with big chunks of broccoli, cheese and bread. Only way to go. Naysayers nay.

Split Pea Soup. I don’t like peas either, silly. Split pea soup is a whole different animal, and so easy. I’m a fan.

Pasta Fagioli. You knew it was coming. My own personal recipe is different, but this is a good one to share. I’m simply not ready to share mine, not yet. One day.

Cabbage Soup With Ginger. The ginger and turmeric have great hydrating and health benefits, and it’s so good on a chilly day.