It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

Nothing strikes fear in my heart quite like a forecast of heavy rain and high winds.  Why?  Drivers around here do not slow down for anything as minor as torrential rain.  I have an irrational fear of flooding.  We have a lot of big trees that could crush our house.  Worst of all - even a moderate breeze can knock out our power.  No power means no heat, no hot water, no refrigerator (don't open the door or everything will spoil!) and no means of cooking.

Our forecast today includes not only heavy rain and high winds, but wintry mix, freezing rain, and black ice.  Blech.

I know you are supposed to have emergency supplies for this situation, and I do, but I always struggle to come up with food for this situation.  Most things I can think of need to warmed - soup, canned beans - or need refrigerator accompaniments - tuna, salad.

I settled on peanut butter and crackers, cereal bars and fruit.  I made some banana bread this morning so we can have a treat in our candlelit coldness.  I have some juice boxes and bottled water.

If all else fails, red wine tastes good at room temperature.

Wherever you are, I hope you are safe, warm, dry and well-fed.  Be careful out there today!

So, What's For the Most Important Dinner of the Year?

Meal planning is a hassle.  Trying to come up with dinner every night, never mind finding the energy and motivation to cook the meal can be a challenge.  But what happens when you triple the guest list, up the expectations and raise the potential disaster level?

Yes - I am cooking Christmas dinner.

My parents and my sister's family will be joining us for this all important meal.  There are some restrictions - a few allergies, low salt, no seeds - but nothing too daunting.  The more important issue is coming up with an appropriately festive menu.

Tradition in our family means lasagna and filet mignon.  Both things center on beef so I don't want to spend hours preparing a meal that I can't even eat.  Not having pasta on Christmas would be like not having a tree (which would be fine with me - the tree is some much work and totally over-rated) but I can easily replace the meat lasagna with manicotti or ravioli and no one will complain.  Replacing the filet mignon would be a harder sell.  I could not serve a completely meatless meal.  That would not be fair to my guests.  It is my choice not to eat meat, not theirs.  I think I would be comfortable cooking the beef and serving it, though if it bothers me at the last minute I know Matt will pick up the slack.  I just need to come with side dishes that I can eat as a main course and not feel cheated and that still accompany the rest of the foods we have.  No one meal should require this much brain power!

On the other hand, I am so grateful to have this problem.  I have a wonderful family that enjoys spending time together, a house to hold all these people, and the luxury of choosing the food I want to eat.  Nothing like the stress of a big family dinner to remind you of all the good things.

I guess if all else fails, I will have Christmas cookies.  Cookies and milk make everything better.

I Know I Have it Here Somewhere

Sarah is having a friend over on Sunday afternoon.  We are going to decorate the Christmas tree (free labor!), bake some cookies (more free labor!) and visit a house nearby that decorates with some serious lights.  I want to make something for dinner that will be warm and cozy, and that the girls will enjoy.  Vegetarian chili!  I have a great recipe for that and Sarah's friend really likes Mexican food.  No problem, let me just pull out the recipe and write up a shopping list.

The recipe must be in my binder of all my old family favorites.  Not there?  Maybe I just misfiled it under the wrong tab in the binder.  (Side note - yes, I have a binder instead of a recipe box and yes it is organized with alphabetized section tabs.  Don't judge.)  No not in there.  Was it from one of the Vegetarian Times issues?  I went through all the issues I have and could not find it.  I then moved on to my favorite cookbooks, and then my not-so-favorite cookbooks, and then on to the cookbooks I never use.  I know I have this recipe.  I made it all winter last year!

Then I remembered - it was my recipe and I put it on my blog, this blog, that I work on every day.

So, check it out - my Chili-Cornbread Pie.  It really is a great recipe; one worth remembering.

Giving Thanks for Thanksgiving

So how did it go?  All was well on the holiday.

My sister-in-law made me special soup.  This may not seem like a big deal, but it made my day.  We always start the meal with a tortellini meatball soup.  Not very Thanksgiving-y you say?  Too bad, it is my favorite part of the meal.  My SIL made a separate portion with vegetable broth and no meatballs.  No one even noticed I had anything different and I got to enjoy hot soup on a very cold Thanksgiving.

She also made eggplant parm.  Also not typical on everyone's Thanksgiving table, but my husband grew up having an entire pasta course (with meatballs and sausage) at Thanksgiving dinner so this did not seem out of place.   My Thanksgiving dinner consisted of broccoli gratin and eggplant parm.  The only person who commented on my plate?  My husband!  But not in a critical way.  He was worried I was missing out on other things, like the stuffing and cranberry sauce, which I enjoy so much.  I did miss those, and I had a few bites, but it did not go with the other things I was eating.

Overall, a successful, confrontation-free holiday.  Hurray!

In thinking about next year, I want to come up with a dish that will truly replace the turkey.  Not tofurkey, or any of those terrible meat replacement products (you already know how I feel about those).  I want something that goes with the mashed potatoes and corn that I enjoy and makes me feel like I am eating like everyone else.  Suggestions?

For a first meat-free Thanksgiving, I will not be greedy.  I am putting this in the win column and moving on from there.

Gobble, Gobble

Happy Thanksgiving all!

This will be my first turkey-less Thanksgiving and I must admit I am a little nervous.  We always spend the holiday with my sister-in-law, who is an amazing cook.  She has been so sweet about my new dietary restrictions.  She checked with me last week to see what I would and would not eat and is planning a special main dish for me.  I was uncomfortable with the attention at first, but I know she will be much happier knowing I can enjoy a delicious meal and not have to pick around what she normally serves for the holiday meal.  And she promised to have peppermint Oreos!  What more could I want?

So, why I am nervous?  We don't spend a lot of time with my husband's family since they live in another state.  Thanksgiving is our one main visit with them every year.  I don't want to deal with the questions and the comments.  I am terrible at defending myself and I despise confrontation.  Maybe I am worrying unnecessarily.  Maybe no one will notice or make any snide comments and we will just have a pleasant meal.

If not, I will drown my troubles in cookies.

No Substitutions, No Refunds

I have been trying to vary my protein sources, so I have been trying different versions of the meatless meatball.  The name is terrible.  Calling it a "meatless meatball" just makes it unappealing before I even taste it.

I hate the idea of substitutions for meat.  I want to enjoy any food on its own merits, not as a replacement for something I can't eat.  I don't think of veggie burgers as a substitute for hamburgers.  Nothing can replace the perfect burger, and I like veggie burgers just as they are.  I don't think of beans or eggs or eggplant and some sort of poor relation to meat.  These foods are delicious and wonderful in their own rights.

So, the meatless meatballs.  I have tried soy-based, rice-based, tofu-based and vegetable based versions, and so far they have all tasted awful.  I am wondering if it is the name creating expectations.  I need to find different ways of preparing these little nuggets unrelated to how I would use real meatballs.

And I need to call them something else, though "veggie balls" just sounds dirty.

Some Disassembly Required

Over the past week or so, I attended two parties.  For me, that is about as crazy as my social life gets.  Strangely enough, both hosts served lasagna for dinner.  In the past, I would be thrilled.  The cooks involved both make fantastic lasagna - everything from scratch, nothing jarred or processed.  Now, not so much.  You see, it was not just any lasagna, it was meat lasagna.

There were no other choices for meals at either party, so I a choice to make.  I could snack on salad and bread and skip the meal, leaving me hungry and cranky.  I could eat the lasagna, leaving me feeling guilty and uncomfortable.  I could ask for something else to eat, which I never really considered because that would be just plain rude.

My choice?  I ate the lasagna, sort of.  Yes, I quietly and subtly, took the layers apart and removed as much of the meat as possible.  People were talking and eating so no one seemed to notice my little pasta surgery.  I did not waste those meatballs; I gave my extra to Matt and Sarah who were more than happy to scoop up my rejects.  I am sure I looked ridiculous.  I am sure my plate looked like some kind of Italian tragedy.  I don't know if I made the best choice but I made the best decision I could at the time, both times, and I am comfortable with that.

Any ideas of another option?

If Elected, I Promise No Gratuitous Food Shots

Happy Election Day!  This is a great day.  Not only do we get to express democratic principles, but we will now get a break from the incessant phone calls, flyers, political ads and, best of all, shots of candidates eating food they don't like.

The local food stop is a classic campaign photo op.  Whether its cheese steaks in Philadelphia, pizza in Iowa (really?) or pie in New Hampshire, candidates roll into some local eatery famous for hosting candidates, take a bite of the specialty of the house for the cameras, and move on to the next event.

This whole things bothers me on so many levels.  First, I feel bad for all the unsuspecting patrons in the restaurant.  Sometimes they are vetted supporters who want nothing more than to watch their political hero lick an ice cream cone, but most of the time they look ordinary folk just trying to enjoy their morning cup of joe.  Second, what if the candidate doesn't like rhubarb pie or pineapple pizza or bison burger?  Too bad - just chew and smile.  Are there no vegetarians running for office?  Worst of all, the waste.  You know that cook made something really special when he got the call that the candidate and all the press would be showing up at his establishment.  Does anyone sit down and enjoy the meal the way it was intended?  Of course not!  They shovel a couple of bites, make sure the cameras were rolling, and leave.  All that hard work, heading for the trash can.

If I ever run for office (which will be never, but still I think about these things) I will have to find some other photo op.  I won't eat the steak, I don't like pie, and I cannot imagine what they do to pizza in Iowa.

Happy Halloween!

www.pillsbury.com

Since when does Halloween require a special meal?  If you look at any magazine or (God forbid) Pinterest, you will see slew of Halloween meal ideas.  Ghost grilled cheese, spider pizzas, monster mash.  Friends have posted pictures on Facebook of all the amazing Halloween meals they have created.  Why are we working so hard on a meal no one wants to eat anyway?  The kids would rather make a meal of Halloween candy, with a few granola bars or bags of pretzels thrown in for variety, and the adults just want to go to bed.  

I never made a special dinner for Halloween.  It was always what I could manage between getting Sarah ready for trick-or-treating and answering the door.  A favorite is a bowl of soup after walking the neighborhood - it gets cold out there!  I have serve eggs a couple of times, and leftovers.  Sarah asked for mummy dogs once - hot dogs wrapped in strips of dough like a mummy.  I made her help me so that was the last time she asked.  Those things take forever to wrap!

I compromised this year.  I made sweet potato black bean chili (which I don't even like, but that is another story).  It is orange and black, and it is warm, and best of all it is already made and easy to warm up whenever anyone gets hungry.  

Of course, they may just raid the candy bowl instead.   I won't know because I am going to bed.

New Order

In an effort to shake things up, I have been trying lots of new recipes.  I have gotten all my fall issues of my cooking magazines.  Lots of seasonal ingredients, lots of warm, cozy foods for the colder weather.  Only problem - once I finish cooking, I don't want to eat any of it.

I tried a "taste of autumn soup."  It involved roasted apples, carrots, parsnips and sweet potatoes and then blending them all into a bisque.  Sounds great right?  Only problem - I don't like sweet potatoes or parsnips.  Why would I want a soup that has those flavors?  I made a new variation on vegetarian chili.  But I really like the recipe I used last year for vegetarian chili and this one was much too spicy.  I don't know what I thinking when I picked out butternut squash panzanella.  I'm not a fan of butternut squash!  I hate all the effort in cutting and cooking it, not to mention it tastes like soap to me.

In my attempts to keep things interesting, I am forgetting the most basic fact - I am cooking a meal to eat.  Sure we need variety in our meals, and it is always a good idea to try new things.  But there is nothing wrong with sticking to a few familiar choices.  Familiar is not bad; comfort food is comforting because you know what to expect.  I don't need to try every exotic ingredient or fad flavor.  Concentrate on what we like and keep it nutritious.  Don't be afraid of new recipes but don't expect to get a new tongue.

Tonight?  Pasta and beans.  Everyone likes that.

O Canada - Happy Thanksgiving!

The second Monday in October may be Columbus Day to us, but in Canada, it is Thanksgiving.  From what I understand, Thanksgiving in Canada is a lot like Thanksgiving in the United States - get stuck in traffic, eat so much you feel sick and spend so much time with your family that you hate them.  The menu is even similar - turkey, pumpkin everything, au gratin as much as possible.

Other than maple syrup and Tim Horton's, I know nothing about Canadian food.  Is there even such a thing?  I am a big fan of the theme meal, so I thought I could make a little something Canadian for dinner yesterday.  I did some research.

And discovered poutine.

Never heard of it?  French fries, brown gravy and cheese curds.  To be good, the cheese curds have to squeak.  I am frightened by food that squeaks.  This is not the same things as cheese fries, not only because of the gravy, but because melty, shredded cheese is some sort of sacrilege to good poutine.

But then again, poutine sounds like some kind of sacrilege to good eating.

Supposedly, the saying goes that the best time to eat poutine is at 3:00 am, which I can understand.  It sounds like something that would taste delicious after a night of being out way too late.

I think I will stick to syrup and those doughnuts with the maple leaf shaped sprinkles.

You Say It's Your Birthday

My birthday is this week.  Growing up, we had a tradition.  The birthday girl got to choose either the dinner my mother would cook or the restaurant we would go to.  I have continued this tradition with my family.  Sarah and Matt love going out to eat, so for their birthdays we have fun dinners out.  I much prefer eating at home, but here is where this system breaks down.

I am the primary cook for the family, so I end up cooking my own birthday dinner.  I don't mind cooking dinner; I do it nearly every night.  But somehow cooking my own birthday dinner takes some of the charm out of the tradition.  Matt can cook and has cooked many a dinner, but his repertoire is all meat-based (meatballs, chili, ribs) and while all that stuff is delicious, it is not how I want to eat now.  On top of that, my birthday fell in the middle of the week.  Matt works crazy hours, so unless I wanted to eat at 10 pm, I was cooking dinner.

I made pancakes.  I decided it only made sense to continue one childhood tradition with another - breakfast for dinner!

Food Porn

I have a subscription to Entertainment Weekly (please don't judge).  I enjoy all the silly pop-culture news and reviews for movies I will never go see.  The only section I take seriously is the book review.  I may not get around to reading the books they write about for years, but I like knowing about the zeitgeist of the literary world.

In the October 10 issue, EW included a round-up of the latest and greatest cookbooks.  The article is entitled "Food Porn."  Food porn?  When did writing about and talking about and reading about and loving food become pornographic?  Why should food be associated with something sinful or dirty?

Okay, yes, I know all about the sin of gluttony.  And yes, there are lots of correlations to be made between food and sex.  Food can and should be a sensual experience.  But connecting that with porn undercuts the beauty of food and the wonderful emotional connections we have with it.  There is nothing pornographic about good food, prepared well and shared with the people we care about.  That is most wonderful and deep kind of relationship we can have.

But then again - "art house food" just isn't as catchy.

How 'Bout Them Apples

Fall, autumn, autumn, fall - a season so nice, they named it twice.  Everyone is all excited about pumpkin flavored things, but to me, the taste of fall will always be apple.

Is there any fruit more associated with myth and superstition?  The forbidden fruit, an apple for the teacher, an apple a day keeps the doctor away.  And is that new phone you bought named after a persimmon?

Growing up, apples meant red delicious, with an occasional golden thrown in.  Red delicious are fine, but they can get mealy (is that a real word?) and nothing feels worse in your mouth than biting into an apple and feeling like you are eating mushy sand.  I mostly eat gala apples now.  This season, I am trying to expand my horizons.  So far, I have sampled fuji and honeycrisp (both delicious, and by delicious I mean tastes good; they are nothing like red delicious.  Oh, you know what I mean).  I don't want to anything fancy.  I don't need to make a pie or cook up apple sauce.  I don't even want to cut it up.  Just give me a whole apple and a napkin and I'm good.

Want to know everything about apples?  Check out the U.S. Apple Association website.  Yes, there really is such a thing.

It's on Twitter - It Has to Be True

I came across this great map.  Researchers at the University of Arizona compiled Twitter hashtags and made a map of the most talked about foods by state.  I am not sure how researchers sorted through the hashtags, separating food from non-food.  In fact, I have a million questions about the methodology of this study.  (Nevermind the usefulness of it - don't these scientists have better things to study than food mentions on Twitter?)

Sure it is clever, a little parlor trick of social media research.  Does it tell us anything about our eating habits?  Or our conversations about food?  Well, a lot of people are tweeting about grits.  I am also fascinated by the pairs - Kansas and New York are talking about prunes, and Nevada and Wisconsin tweet a lot about sauerkraut.  What does it mean?  It doesn't mean anything!

I think I'll head to North Dakota; I could use a good flan.

University of Arizona food tweets

If It's Not Scottish...

It has been a big week in Scotland.  I have no dog in the independence fight, but I do have some very found memories of Scotland.  Over 25 years ago, my sister and I took a trip through the U.K. with a stop in Edinburgh.  I loved the energy of the city, my sister hated the place.  We did agree that it was tough to find a place to eat.

This was in the days before Yelp or TripAdvisor and at the time, Edinburgh was hardly a hot bed of progressive dining.  Mostly, you could get dinner at a bar.  For two little American girls, bars with signs like "No Football Colors Allowed" and "All Brawlers Will Be Arrested" did not whet our appetites.  We stumbled across a health food cafeteria (remember when it "health food?") and for three nights, went back to same place.  I ate macaroni and cheese every night because it was the only thing on the menu I recognized.  Dessert involved tea and Walker's shortbread.  Not exactly a true taste of Scotland.

I hope to go back.  Armed with more information and a more daring spirit, I think I could get a better idea of what Scottish food and culture is all about.  Take a look at this.  Makes you hungry, right?

Mainely Drizzle

Photo courtesy of Maine-ly Drizzle

I have yet to turn on the heat in the house, and it is not officially autumn yet, so I am still going to write about the summer.  Well, not the summer exactly, but things I did this summer.  Or more precisely, places I went this summer.  Well, place.  Oh you get the point.

While we were in Kennebunkport, Maine, we stumbled across the most amazing store - Mainely Drizzle.  Not only is it a shop for specialty olive oils and balsamic vinegars, it is a tasting room as well.  Have you ever heard of such a thing?  It is even better than it sounds.  The rooms is filled with olive oils and vinegars flavored with fruits and herbs.  There are little cups next to each urn and you are free to sip as many as you want.

Photo courtesy of Maine-ly Drizzle

Of course, if you are like me, you choke on the first sample and spend the rest of the visit coughing while the rest of the family enjoys taste after taste of these delicious treats.

Nick, the owner, cannot wait to show off his prizes.  He is from Somerville, Massachusetts, and clearly loves food, so he and Matt bonded immediately.  Nick asked my husband what kinds of flavors he liked and what his favorite foods are and then started bringing him all different mixtures of the vinegars and oils.  We did not need lunch after that stop.

We could not possibly bring home all the items we wanted, but not to worry!  We can order off the website.  (Seriously, check it out here.)  I'm waiting for my order of lime olive oil.  What am I going to use it for?  I don't know - everything!  Except sipping.  I learned my lesson about the sipping thing.

I Have a Nose for These Things

Yesterday, my refrigerator looked like this:

In other words, pretty sad.  No fruit, old wilty vegetables and a few eggs.  (And my pink pickles; can you see the jar on the bottom shelf?).  I needed to go grocery shopping.  I compiled some recipes, made a list, checked the circular for sale items, and then trudged off with my reusable grocery bags.  I was prepared for an ordinary, boring, like-always shopping trip.  

But I needed an eggplant.  Oh the magic of eggplant.  I found this:

The eggplant has a nose!  It is perfectly positioned below the stem so it looks like it is wearing a green hat above its giant nose.  It is so darn cute.  So cute in fact that now I can't bear to cook it.  I can't cut off my eggplant's nose!  What kind of cruel monster do you think I am?  I guess I am going to have to wait until the thing rots in m refrigerator and its nose falls off.  But then again, who wants to eat a rotten eggplant?  And why should this eggplant just waste away?  It was brought into this world to make my roasted vegetables into a delicious, satisfying meal.

But I don't think I can't cut off its nose, now that I started referring to it as a nose.

I'll make Matt cut the eggplant.  He has no mercy toward vegetable noses.

Back to Life, Back to Reality

Back to school time, which means back to packing lunch.  What is it about putting the lunch into the lunch box that makes it so much harder?  Sarah does not have a hard time picking what she wants when she eats at home.  But somehow having to put the food into containers complicates matters.

She is not a fan if the hot lunch options at her school (I can't blame her).  She also is not a fan of sandwiches.  According to Sarah, sandwiches require too much chewing.  Chewing is a problem when you can't stop talking, but that is another story.  Okay, no sandwiches.  The good news is that she is a big fan of leftovers in a thermos - soups, stews, pasta.  I like cooking those things so it worked out pretty well last year.  It is much easier to just reheat last night's dinner than remember to buy sandwich things every week, so in the end it is better for both of us.  So far this school year, I have sent in a few of days of pasta, a few of soups and only one sandwich.

Sarah tells me her friends are jealous of her lunches.  Why does that make me feel good?

Sarah is getting older and before long I will not be packing lunches for her anymore.  I will have no control over what she eats when she is away from home.  I hope I have helped her develop some good habits about what she chooses to eat at lunch.  I think I have, as long as it does not involve a lot of chewing.

There's a Word for That

German is a great language.  It has given us such wonderful words as kindergarten, schadenfreude, and, my new favorite kummerspeck.  What does it mean?  Well, according to the book Lost in Translation by Ella Frances Sanders, it "refers to the excess weight we gain from emotional overeating."  The literal translation is even better: "grief-bacon."

I certainly have my own share of kummerspeck, even if there has never been any bacon involved.  Even before I stopped eating meat, I never cared much for bacon.  But grief bacon?  That sounds rather tasty.

Pink Pickles

When we were in Maine, I ate the most amazing lobster taco topped with pickled red onion.  After we got home, I thought this was something I could make.  How hard could it be?  A little vinegar, a little seasoning and some red onion, right?  I started doing a little research.

And fell down the rabbit hole of pickling.

People are passionate about pickles.  I have never been fond of pickles so I never paid much attention.  Types of vegetables, types of vinegar, even types of salt are compared and debated.  How dare you use white vinegar with carrots?  What kind of fool would use red wine vinegar with cucumber?  Only a heathen would mix radishes with anything but rice wine vinegar!  These pickle people scare me.

Though not as much, it seems, as my pickles scare Sarah.

"Mom!  What is that pink thing in the refrigerator?" she asked breathlessly.
"I am trying to pickle red onions, like we had in the restaurant."
"Do I have to eat it?"

I mixed white vinegar, sea salt, white grape juice and pepper for my brine.  They have been sitting a couple days and the flavor so far is good, but it needs more time to develop.  I will let you know how it turns out, and if I can convince Sarah to give it a go.

How Much for the Soup? Three Clams

 

What makes the perfect clam chowder?  It seems my family cannot agree.  On our trip to Maine, we had three cups of chowder, and we each walked away with a different favorite.

First problem - clam to potato ratio. Sarah likes a lot of potatoes, Matt prefers much more clam, and I am somewhere in the middle.  Then we disagree on the broth.  Should it be milk based (thin) or cream based (thick)?  One version included shrimp and haddock.  I said that made it fish chowder and disqualified it as clam chowder;  Matt just called it delicious.  And don't even get me started on saltiness.

This got me thinking - if we all live together and eat much of the same things and yet have such different tastes, how can any of us know what "good" food is?  Not good as in healthy or good as in not spoiled, but good, tasty, soul-satisfying food.

You know when a friend tells you something is the best thing she has ever eaten and you taste it and think "Meh?"  Or you remember something tasting perfect, and you get it again only to be disappointed?

It seems food is such a living thing that we can never dip our spoons into the same bowl twice.  Or anyone else's bowls, which may be gross but we are family so we share all the time.

On a Roll

I did not have a lobster roll until I was an adult, but I have since made up for lost time.  I often wonder who looked at a lobster with its hard shell and sharp claws and thought, "That would make a good dinner!"  Then I think about the person who said, "You know what this lobster really needs?  Mayonnaise!"  Well, whoever those intrepid culinary adventurers were, I am forever in their debt.

On our recent trip to Kennebunkport, Maine, my goal was to eat a lobster roll every day.  I am not one to shy away from such a challenge, so below is my round-up of my attempt at lobster roll saturation.


Family Restaurant - Alisson's Restaurant

This had the most traditional bun - split top hot dog bun brushed with butter and grilled to toasty crispness.  We had spent that day driving through a monsoon so the meal was particularly satisfying.


Seafood Shack - The Clam Shack

This one had the most authentic lobster roll experience.  You walk up to a window, order your food, someone with a crazy accent calls your number and who go eat at a picnic table near the water.  The lobster was the most tender and flavorful, but the roll ruined it.  It was like one of the Hawaiian rolls, sweet and squishy.  And this is Atlantic lobster; that cannot be mixed with Pacific bread.

Food Truck - The Ocean Roll

The Ocean Roll serves these beauties two ways - cold with mayonnaise or hot with butter.  I don't have a picture of the butter roll because some people could not wait until I came back with the ketchup for the french fries so I could get a shot.  Next time, family, you get your own ketchup!  I liked the hot version a lot.  It was like eating a fresh lobster without all the work.


Hotel Restaurant - Striper's

Technically not a lobster roll, but a lobster taco.  I ate it, so I am counting it.  That fancy flower thing on the top is pickled red onion.  Did you even know you could pickle red onion?  I didn't and now I feel like I have been missing out all these year.  Excellent lobster-to-bread ratio, and the all the add-ons just made the meat taste better.

Only four this trip.  I will have to return to do much more research.

Stop in the Name of the Vegetable Police

Earlier this month, the family took a trip to Maine.  I was really looking forward to eating some fresh lobster.

"My goal for this trip is to have a lobster roll every day," I told Sarah.
"That doesn't sound very vegetarian, Mom," Sarah answered.
"True," I said, "but I don't think the vegetarian police are going to come after me."
"Maybe they will," Sarah laughed.

I realized the source of my discomfort with the whole vegetarian thing.  It is not asking other people to make adjustments for me or missing certain foods, it is the label!  Who gets to decide what "vegetarian" means?  Who gets to tell me what I can and cannot eat?  And why do I need rules?

I care deeply about the environment and that is my motivation for giving up meat.  Meat production requires an incredible amount of resources and I want to take even the tiniest steps that I can.  I want to make sustainable choices when it comes to food.  I need to do more research so I can make better decisions, but in the meantime I have to get rid of the guilt!

Lobster, thankfully, is very sustainable, and very delicious.

Editor's Note:  I have been a bad blogger this summer.  No excuses, just an apology.  Rededicated to write more frequently!

Happy Meal

Last weekend, I joined my mother on one of those senior outings - a whole bunch of the AARP crowd get on a coach bus to somewhere.  This was a day trip to the Barnes Foundation in Philadelphia.  We rode the bus, went to lunch, visited the museum and rode home on the bus.  It was a great day.

This was my first experience with a fixed lunch since I stopped eating meat.  I called the planning office ahead of time to ask about a vegetarian option.  "No problem," she told me, "just tell the server when you get there."  I don't know why I was nervous about it.  I did not want to make a fuss and I hate drawing attention to myself.  I just had to trust that it would be no problem.

And you know what?  It was no problem.  When the waitress came around for the drink orders, I asked her about it.  "Oh yes, we have eggplant for you."  It was an Italian restaurant.  While everyone else had their chicken and pasta, my spaghetti was served with some delicious eggplant.  My mother tasted the eggplant and said it was much better than her lunch.  "Maybe I should go vegetarian with you," my mother said, "you get better food."

Heart of the Matter

We got word earlier this week that one of our dearest friends is having double-bypass surgery today.  This hit Matt especially hard since this was his college roommate.  Matt keeps saying how unfair this is and how this is not suppose to happen to us; this happens to our parents.  "And when was the last time you went to the doctor?" he asked me.

It is true.  I have not been for a physical in at least two years; it may even be three.  I am not afraid of doctors -  I go every year to my gynecologist,  I get my mammograms when I am suppose to, I even visit the dentist every six months.  Why no physical?  It all has to do with the scale.

I know what I weigh.  I get on the scale at home so it is no big surprise when I get on the scale at the doctor's office and the number is higher than I want it to be.  What I hate is the conversation.  The doctor always tells me I need to lose 20 pounds.  It does not seem to matter what I actually weigh - the advice is always lose 20 pounds.  No advice on how to do that, no guidance on who could help.  One doctor did offer me prescription diet pills, but the list of side effects was so scary I did not try them.  Another doctor told me, "All you have to do is eat less and move more."  Well if it was that simple, why is anyone overweight?

No doctor has spoken to me about good nutrition or healthy food choices.  I could be downing diet soda and Twinkies all day, but as long as that scale says my weight matched up to some magic chart then everything would be fine.  I don't want to have this pointless conversation with another doctor.  I know I need to lose 20 pounds and if I could figure out a way that works for me to do that, I would have done it long ago.

Hippocrates said, "Let food be thy medicine, and medicine be thy food."  Too bad he wasn't a little more specific.

Same Time Next Year

Every summer, Sarah and I spend a day at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  We started this several years ago with the idea that by the time she was grown, we would have seen everything there is to see at the museum.  Only problem - every time we go, we end up at the same exhibits.  We take pictures at the Temple of Dendur, visit Edgar Degas' statue "The Little Dancer of Fourteen Years," walk through the period rooms, tell the story of the scandalous "Madame X" by Sargent, make a quick stop in musical instruments before hitting the gift shop.  We even have the same lunch - we share a soup, sandwich, fruit cup and soda at the American Wing Cafe.

We have a great day every year.  We laugh a lot and thoroughly enjoy the art we are seeing.  Maybe we even enjoy it more now because it is familiar.  I know there are whole worlds we have not touched - we have never even walked through the art of Oceania and I don't know where to find the photography section - but that does not diminish our enjoyment of the experience.

What does this have to do with food?  Everything.

Like most people, I stick to food I know.  I tend to cook the same things over and over again.  Even though I have stopped cooking meat, I have quickly replaced those dishes with others that I make a lot.  I want to be more adventurous, and I know there must be so much more out there that I don't know about, but I like what I am doing right now.  If I am enjoying what I am eating, does it matter that there could possibly be other things out there?  Should the specter of possibilities diminish my joy of the familiar?

Onion Rings of Gold

When Matt and I lived in Boston, we frequented Kelly's Roast Beef, first at the stand in Revere Beach and then at the more traditional fast-food restaurant in Saugus.  New York has its pizza, Chicago has its hot dogs, but Boston has the roast beef sandwich.  I learned to love it like a local, with lots of barbeque sauce, and Kelly's was our favorite spot.

Last week, Matt and I attended a funeral in Boston.  We left home at about 5:00 am to get there on time.  By the time we had gone to the funeral home and mass and the cemetery, we were (to use that great English expression) knackered.  We still had to drive home.  We decided to skip the formal luncheon and pick something up on the road.

Kelly's has opened additional restaurants in recent years, and we were driving right by the store in Natick.  After the stressful morning, Matt thought a roast beef would cheer him up.  "Oh sorry," he said, "will you be able to find something to eat?"  I appreciated the thought, but I too craved the familiar, even if I did not want to eat it.

Matt got his wonderful roast beef sandwich, I got some chowder and we shared a clam plate.  The clam plate comes with onion rings, and it turns out I could have skipped all the other food.  I don't even like onion rings, but these little circles of fried gold were exactly what I wanted that day.  I don't think Matt had more than two of them.  I just kept getting up for more little cups of ketchup.

Our lunch was quick; we were in and out in less than half an hour.  But somehow that little trip into nostalgia was exactly what we needed.  I may not have eaten the roast beef, but just smelling the familiar and sharing the plate with Matt like we did when we were first married made us both feel better.  Not to mention those onion rings were fabulous.

Loose Lips

I had two conversations last week worth mentioning, with the two most important women in my life.

I tried something new for dinner - grilled portobello mushrooms and red peppers on toasted pretzel rolls with melted cheddar cheese.  It was a big hit hit.  "I think you are really starting to get the hang of this vegetarian cooking thing," Sarah said.  "You like it that much?"  I asked.  She nodded enthusiastically as she took another big bite.

A few days later, my parents stayed over to take care of Sarah because Matt and I had to run up to Boston for the day (more on that tomorrow).  Mom and Sarah bought some groceries while she was here, included some pre-made food for dinner.  My mom picked out a rotisserie chicken, which Sarah explained to her that I would not eat.  I have explained my new diet to my mom, and I have eaten several meals with her over the past few months, but I guess it didn't sink in.  Over a cup of tea later that night, Mom asked, "So what is this about you not eating meat?"  "I've told you before I am not eating meat right now," I answered.  "Why not?" she asked.  "I am just more comfortable with it," I shrugged, hoping to avoid the whole conversation.  "Is this some animal rights PETA thing?" with a bit of edge in her voice.  "No," I said honestly, "it just seems right to me."  End of conversation.

It is amazing what the people who are closest to us can do for our self-esteem.  At least, if you are a person like me with very little self-esteem to begin with.  When Sarah praised my cooking, I felt more accomplished, like my effort was recognized and rewarded.  When Mom, who is in general a very gentle and supportive parent, challenged my choices, I felt threatened.

Food is such a personal and such a collective thing.  It both binds us and divides us in ways I did not understand before.

Oh, and if you have never had a pretzel roll, go find one.  That is definitely a food worth sharing.

Rooty-Tooty, Don't Want No Fruity

At this time of year, I am usually swimming in fruit.  I don't mean like a human sangria (though that has some appeal).  Here in the Northeast, we wait all year for July so we can enjoy berries and melons and stone fruit that actually have some flavor.  In my refrigerator right now, I have blueberries, strawberries, watermelon and cherries.  And I have no interest in eating any of it.

In summers past, I would want to start my day with yogurt topped with peaches and granola.  I would love to have a big slice of watermelon as dessert for lunch.  A perfect afternoon snack would be a bowl of strawberries with a bit of extra-fine sugar.  This year, the fruit just sits there, staring at me, pleading with me just to try one bite.

All I want lately is savory and salty.  I crave chips, not cookies, which for me is absolute heresy.  I want a veggie omelet for breakfast and cheese for lunch.  My favorite snack right now is toast with butter.  Sure I want carbs, that is nothing new, but not anything sweet.  I have not touched the containers of ice cream in my freezer for days.  I am beginning to worry that I have been kidnapped by the pod people.

I don't know if the change in cravings has to do with not eating meat.  Maybe it has to do with getting older.  I am still craving hot dogs (salty and fatty!) and the amount of food I am eating is hardly ebbing. At least my family is not on a fruit strike so that whole watermelon I bought will not go to waste.  I want to want a peach!

Is It a Salad If It Isn't Green?

I really like summer foods - grilling, fruit, cold soup and lots of "uncooked" foods.  I was never a fan of mayonnaise-based salads, things like potato salad and macaroni salad.  First, I have problem with something calling itself a salad with nothing green in it.  Second, I am not a big fan of mayonnaise.  Too thick, too goopy and not enough flavor.  Others in the house do enjoy a little picnic side dish.  I have bought pre-made versions from various delis and grocery stores over the years.  Matt and Sarah have been happy, but I never could develop taste for it.

Since I have been trying to eat better and be more aware of what our food is made with, I decided to make my own potato salad.  I consulted a trusty go-to cookbook that I count on for all standard, old-fashioned recipes.  (It will remain unidentified.)  The recipe called for 2 pounds of potatoes, a little onion, a little mustard, 2 tablespoons of sugar, 6 hard-boiled eggs and 1 1/2 cups of mayonnaise.  Now I had never made potato salad before, but 1 1/2 cups of mayonnaise?  Was a going to eat this or cover my entire body with it?  6 eggs?  Was this an omelet for an army?  Sugar?  I thought this was a side dish, not dessert.

In the end, I used no sugar, 2 eggs and 3/4 cup of mayonnaise.  And, you know what?  I liked this version, a lot.  I could taste the potato, not the gelatinous goop of most versions.  My family liked it too and asked me to make it again.

It wasn't that I didn't like potato salad.  I didn't like sweet mayonnaise and egg salad.

The Scales of Injustice

I got on the scale this weekend.  I knew it would be bad, given that nothing without an elastic waist fits, but I did not expect it to be THAT bad.  Yes, I have weighed more, but it still does not feel good.

I have to reassess what I am doing.  Yes, I am eating more way more vegetables and healthier fats.  I am also eating too many processed carbs - bread, cereal, crackers.  Sure, they are whole wheat and whole grain but I still am eating too much of it.  I have no interest in cutting out carbohydrates, but I need to take the boxed foods out of my diet.  And ice cream - no more ice cream!

I am not sure what I am going to replace those things with or if it will help.  What I really need to do is not eat so damn much!

Grill Update

So the grill is repaired.  Seemed there was a hole in the tube connecting the propane tank to the burners.  We probably came close to dying in a fiery propane explosion but, moving on, we can grill again.

The first thing I grilled this season?  Drum roll - bread!  Don't look so disappointed.  I have to start somewhere in replacing all the meat-based grilled dishes.  I brushed sour-dough bread with olive oil and grilled it for a few minutes on high heat.  I topped the bread with roasted vegetables.  It was like a giant bruschetta.  If bruschetta is good, giant bruschetta is better!

It has been raining most of the week, so I have not had a chance to try anything else.  Maybe I will try portobello mushrooms next, on grilled bread.

Saving My Bacon

Sarah attended an after-school cooking class this afternoon.  It was hosted by one of the staff at her school and it was a special event for just a few students.  Sarah loves to cook so she was very excited when her friend invited her to come along.

At pick-up, Sarah carried a big metal bowl and several items wrapped in plastic and aluminum foil.  "I got a lot of the leftovers," she shrugged.  It seemed the other girls were not as enthusiastic as she had been about what they had cooked.

One of the things they made was a Bavarian-style potato salad.  I don't know what Bavarian-style means, but it looked good, so I asked Sarah if she minded if I took a taste.  "I'm stuffed.  Have anything you want."

I unwrapped the bowl, got a fork, scooped a potato and was about to take a bite, when Sarah screamed, "Don't eat that!!!"

I jumped, dropped the fork and smacked my hip against the counter.  "What is wrong with you?"  I yelled back.

"I forgot.  It has bacon in it," she answered sheepishly.

I gave her a hug and told her it would have been okay if I had one bite of bacon by mistake.  Please don't ever scream at me when I am wielding a fork, I reminded her.  Sure, I did not eat the meat, but I am surprised I did not poke my eye out, and which would be worse?

Frostie the Snow Goat

I have been thinking a lot about why giving up meat seems like the right thing to do.  When someone asks me why I am going veg, I say, "I am just more comfortable with it."  I have not been able to articulate my thoughts much better than that.  I am no zealot and I will never be comfortable going out and beating the drum for a cause.

I came across this video of Frostie the Snow Goat from Edgar's Mission.  Am I imposing human emotions on a baby goat?  Probably.  But it is still the most joyful things I have seen in a long time.

There is a wonderful quote on the website, "If we could live happy and healthy lives without harming others, why wouldn't we?"  I think I like that answer better than anything else I've heard.

And seriously, Frostie the Snow Goat, with wheels.

Pigs Are Cute

Recently, my 10-year-old niece announced that she will not longer eat pork or ham because pigs are cute.  My sister (her mother) shared this on Facebook.  Most comments could be categorized as either "oh how cute" or "yum bacon."  There were a few comments, however, that I would put in a third category - it is just a phase, don't let her get away with it.  In other words, not eating pork is really a power play on the child's part and you as a parent must discipline the child when it comes to food.

I am not about to start another round of the mommy wars.  I have no interest in battling it out with other parents about how they choose to raise their children, or trying to get validation for the choices I make raising my daughter.  I just find it interesting that no one, including me, saw my niece's decision as a legitimate or reasonable choice.  I am not sure if it was because of her age or her personality or how my sister had presented the situation.  No one took it seriously.

I remember a night when I was very little, and I was trying to understand where the food on our dinner table came from.  With some help from my older sisters, I made the connection between the chicken in the oven and the chickens I had seen when visiting a farm.  I was crushed.  I cried and cried.   I don't remember why it bothered me so much or what my mother did about it.  I must have stopped crying and my mother continued to feed me chicken, and I continued to eat it.

I guess a part of me is still that little kid crying about the chicken and wondering what is so bad about not eating pigs because they are cute.

Have Grill, Can't Cook

We are finally seeing what could be described as nice weather here in New England so on Saturday, Matt decided to get the grill ready for the season.  He had new cleaner, special brushes, and an entire roll of heavy-duty paper towels ready for action.  He scrubbed, he hosed, he brushed.  He was out there for hours but when he was finished, the grill looked great.  All shiny and clean and ready for all my grilling experiments.

At least we thought so.

This a gas grill.  After he put everything back together, he tried to light it.  Nothing.  He waited until everything was dried out - still nothing.  He tried it the next day, and got worse than nothing.  He smelled gas leaking.

We have a beautiful, clean grill and nothing to do with it.  At least I won't be embarrassed in front of the repairman.

The Story of An Egg and A Potato

This past weekend, we attended my niece's First Communion.  Everything went well - the weather was beautiful, the kids all looked adorable and the food at the party was great.  Vegetarian choices for every course and since the food was served family-style, no one noticed or commented on what I was or was not eating.  I did not have to ask for anything special and could just pass the platters along.  Best of all, lots of homemade cookies.  I love cookies.

The actual First Communion mass left something to be desired.  Now I have heard a lot of bad sermons, but this one was in a category by itself.  First, the priest started with a story about 1500 sheep going over a cliff.  I think it had something to do with Jesus being the good shepherd, but that was never made clear.  The priest really focused on the dead sheep for a long time.  Then he moved on to a story about a couple whose child had died (great topic for First Communion mass!) and how he had counseled them through their grief.  It was all about an egg and a potato.

You see, an egg starts out fragile and delicate.  When faced with boiling water, it gets hard and cracks under the heat.  It eventually becomes grey and flavorless.  A potato, on the other hand, starts out hard as a rock, but when thrown into the fire it gets soft and pliable and delicious.  We are suppose to be potatoes, not eggs.

He went on like this forever, and even circled back to this clever metaphor at the close of mass.  Did the kids understand it?  Of course not!  The metaphor falls apart when you really look at it.  So are we suppose to be hard all our lives?  Is there something wrong with being more sensitive?  Potatoes eventually fall apart if you heat them enough - are we suppose to be mashed potatoes?  And hey, I happen to like hard boiled eggs.  Food metaphor fail.

When the priest finished, I leaned over to Matt and said, "All I got from that was hungry."  Matt nodded and answered, "I hope they aren't serving eggs or potatoes at lunch."

Veg on Vacation

Colonial cheesecake?  Yes, please!

For spring break, the family took a trip to Williamsburg, VA - along with half the population of the eastern seaboard.  Everything was crowded!  I thought finding vegetarian food would be the challenge on this trip; just finding a place to eat was the challenge.  Every place we went there were lines and crowds and wait times measured in hours.  Once we found a restaurant, I managed to find good, meatless food but boy did I have to wait for it.

All except one meal.  We spent a day at Busch Gardens.  The amusement park is divided into themed sections based on different countries - Germany, Italy, France, Britain, Ireland.  These themes extend to the food.  You would think that this would allow a good amount variety in the restaurants and it does, but not when it comes to vegetarian options.  The restaurants were crowded, loud, chaotic and thoroughly unappetizing.  We were miserable.  We finally found a stand with a few quiet tables open and a short line.  I did not care what food they served, as long as I could sit and eat something without someone screaming in my ear.  What did they serve?  Hot dogs in pretzel rolls.  Hot dogs?  In pretzel rolls?  Oh, and there is spicy mustard for dipping?  Sure I can blame the heat, or the crowds, or anything else I want to blame.  Those hot dogs in pretzel rolls were so good.

Even with that small, delicious failure, I am pretty happy about my first (almost) vegetarian vacation.  Now, if I could just stay away from hot dogs.

This Little Piggy Went to a Party

Last Friday evening, Matt and I attended a fundraising auction for my daughter's school.  The theme was a country hoe-down.  The theme was really raise as much money as possible, but the decorations and food need better direction than that.  On top of the checked table cloths was quite a spread.  Hummus, couscous, and fig & goat cheese sandwiches - because you know all the best cowboys come from the Middle East.  Wine tasting, whiskey tasting, beer tasting - it is thirsty work spending money!  It was really was a lovely evening.

I was doing so well until the passed hors doeuvre's came around.  I skipped the turkey meatballs, said no to the chicken on a stick, even refused the tiny steak sandwiches.  Then, then the man said those magic words, "Mini hot dog?" and held out a tray filled with small dough-wrapped bits of wonder.  Pigs in a blanket!  What kind of evil person says no to pigs in a blanket?  They are pigs, wrapped in a tiny blanket, just for your dining pleasure!  He even offered spicy brown mustard in which to dip these precious bites.

I will not say how many I ate, and whatever my husband says is not true (too low, I ate more when he wasn't looking.)  It seems hot dogs are the meat I cannot live without.  I'm not sure it is even meat.  If you don't know what is in the meat dish, does it count as eating meat?

Colored Eggs and Ham

Last weekend, I hosted Easter dinner for some of my extended family, 10 diners in all.  Among my guests, diet restrictions galore: gluten free, lactose intolerant, low-salt, Passover observance.  Add in some seriously picky eaters and others who demand certain foods for certain holidays (Easter = ham or lamb), my vegetarian needs were pretty low on my list of criteria for choosing a menu.

I made a ham, but I did not eat any of it.  For my first major holiday since I gave up meat, I was happy with this compromise.  I also served a chick pea rice pilaf which I ate as my main dish, but other people tried it and seemed to enjoy it.  I started with a leek and potato soup and an antipasto platter (a must at all Brown family events).  I served carrots, string beans, asparagus and baked potatoes.  My mother brought candy for the kids and some Peeps ended up in the microwave.  No one went home hungry and no one complained.  Trust me, this group would have let me know if there was a problem.

Most importantly, no one asked me about the vegetarian thing.  My eating was not a topic of conversation.  I was grateful.  My family can be pretty hard on anyone trying something different, so it was a big step.  I will see if that remains true when I go over to someone else's house for a holiday.

Same Time Next Year

Over the weekend, I was listening to an interview with author Delia Ephron.  She made an off-hand comment about how "no one makes tune-noodle casserole anymore."  At that very moment, I was cooking tuna-noodle casserole.  Sure, it is a dish out of the 1970s, and I have modified the recipe to make it tastier and healthier, but I love the stuff even if no one else eats it anymore.

Which got me thinking about food fashion.  I am not talking about weight-loss diets or restaurant fads, but the food we eat at home on a regular basis.  Some things will change based on changing notions of health - remember when eating liver was considered very healthy?  But even if you factor in that element, what we eat changes over time.  Why is that?

I am sure some of it has to do with the availability of ingredients, and the influence of immigrant groups, and changing lifestyles.  But beyond that, do people change what they want to eat?  I have made a decision to not eat meat, so of course my diet will be significantly different than it was even a year ago.  Will my vegetarian diet change in ten years?  Do taste buds change over time?  Will I like the same foods next year?

Will eating differently cause me to want to eat differently?

Is my tongue changing?

Now I made myself nervous.  I have to go spend some time staring in the mirror to make sure my tongue has not changed.  I'll let you know.

One Potato, Two Potato

Over the weekend, I made baked potatoes as a side dish for dinner.  I cannot remember the last time I made a baked potato, ate a baked potato or even thought about a baked potato.  My parents were coming over for dinner and I did not have a lot of active prep time, though throwing things in the oven to cook without me worked well, thus baked potatoes.

The baked potato made me so happy!  I don't put anything fancy on top of it, not even butter or sour cream, just a little salt.  Something so simple tasted so good.  I have been trying to cook such complex meals lately I have forgotten the joys of simple food.  I need to remind myself that I don't need to cook exotic flavors or fifty ingredients into a dish to make it work.  I do not need to compensate for the lack of meat.  Meatless food is delicious and healthy just as it is.  Meals can be satisfying in their simplicity.

Up next: peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Not Hardcore

I found a quiz today on Huffington Post, "How Hardcore Vegetarian Are You?" I assumed the answer for me would be "are you kidding?" but I decided to take it anyway.  After a few multiple choice questions, I got my answer.  "You're Vegetarian-friendly."  What does that mean?  Glad you asked:  "You might follow a vegetarian diet, but you're not about to put anyone out about your meat-free choices.  You'll eat a steak if invited to someone's house for dinner, and you never want to ask the waitress if the soup is made with chicken broth."

I should be scared about how accurate this is, but I actually feel much better.  First, this silly little quiz was able to articulate my philosophy on this vegetarian thing so much than I ever have been able to, no matter how many blog entries I write.  Second, if the quiz has a description like this, I cannot be alone in my thinking.  I don't have to be strident or extreme or political about this.  I can just be me.

Real Corinthian Leather

Way back in November, Matt and I decided to replace our family room couch.  Our old couch had survived 18 years and four moves and had seen better days.  We were ready for an upgrade.

The Green Monster

We chose a beautiful brown leather sofa that had to be imported from Norway.  So, all these months later, it finally arrived this weekend.  I was so excited.  As the delivery men brought it in, I realized it looked great with carpet and fit so nicely in the room.  Sarah had not been with us when we bought it, so I encouraged her to give it a try to see what she thought.  She sat down, announced it was very comfortable and very pretty, but then she noticed the one fatal flaw.

"Mom, if you are going vegetarian, how can you have a leather couch?  It's still a cow, right?"

I started to defend myself, to come up with some explanation - but...what if...except that...not exactly... - then I realized she was absolutely right.  I am a total hypocrite.

I confess I had not even thought of this.  How?  Maybe I just did not want to because I really wanted a leather couch.  How vegetarian do I want to be?  I know there are lots of people who not only forego meat and eggs, but also dairy and even honey.  How far is too far and how much is enough?  What is the difference between eating a dead cow and sitting on one?

The Prettiest Dead Cow Ever

I will think about that while I sit on my new couch.  It is awfully pretty, though, isn't it?

Freaky Friday

Growing up, Fridays during Lent meant two things: tuna fish sandwich for lunch, pizza for dinner.  I went to Catholic school, so this was true of my friends too.  Church teaching dictated meatless meals, so we went with the least exotic choices imaginable.  I never thought anything was wrong with this.  I was just jealous when my friends got chips in their lunchboxes.

Now I have to stretch my concept of what meatless meals can mean.  How can I replace the traditional plate of meat & potatoes with something just as satisfying?  In another month, we will be out of soup and stew weather, and I am going to have to expand my menu.  I cooked vegetable lo mein last night, which went over well, and a pesto vegetable pie earlier in the week went fast.  I am hoping the grill will open up some new possiblities rather than make my family yearn for steak.

I guess if all else fails, I can always make some tuna fish sandwiches.

How Many Meals Do You Eat in a Week?

I finally got around to reading the Vegetarian Times Starter Kit I downloaded from the magazine's website a couple of months ago.  I have been flailing my way through this for a couple of months, so I thought it was high time I got some professional help.  There is some basic information on terms, oft-repeated tropes on why a vegetarian diet is healthier, and a section on busting nutritional myths.  It is all somewhat cliche and superficial, more advertising for vegetarianism than really guiding you to change.

Then, a big orange text box caught my eye - "the 3-step way to go veg."  Three steps?  I waffled between thinking, "How can there be only three steps?" and, "Why do you need more than one step?"  I read on.  Their advice goes like this: 1) think of three meals already in your repertoire that are vegetarian; 2) think of three meals that you make that can be easily converted to meatless dishes; 3) scour cookbooks and websites to find three new vegetarian dishes.  When you are done, you will have nine vegetarian meals at you fingertips.  You will never want or need to touch animal products again!

Wait, nine meals?  Last time I checked, I eat 21 meals a week.  Even if you discount breakfast (easily made meatless - sorry, bacon), that still leaves 14 meals.  So if your menu only includes nine dishes, you will have to repeat five of these every week.  Boring and unhealthy.

Why do these people lie?  This is hard!  There are no three simple steps or cure-alls or answers to everything.  Change is hard, even with motivation and good intentions on your side.  Instead of telling me that my new diet will prevent kidney stones (glad to hear it as I am), I would have preferred some information on reading menus and ingredient lists, or how to handle holidays.  I guess the starter kit is just designed to get you started, not to keep you going.

Boiling Over

We are not Irish.  My sister (the family historian) claims that a couple hundred years ago, someone on the English side mixed with an Irishman, but I am not sure I believer her, and regardless, it left no influence.  St. Patrick's Day has little meaning to me, except a few terrible memories from college involving green vodka.  The green bagels, the green beer, the Irish soda bread - I could skip all of it.  Not out of animosity, just lack of interest.

My husband is also not Irish (unless some Irishman ended up in Southern Italy) but he is from Boston which means he grew up eating New England boiled dinner - corned beef and cabbage with carrots, potatoes, parsnips and onions thrown into the mix for good measure.  Even before I stopped eating meat, I hated this food.  Boiling cabbage smells like a dirty bathroom and the resulting meal resembles salty, colorless wet paper towels.  But, for the sake of marital harmony, once a year, on St. Patrick's Day, I put a clothes pin on my nose and boil away.

I have not cooked meat in over two months, so I did not know how I would feel about cooking the beef this time around.  I have been reading about vegetarians turning green just looking at raw meat, never mind being asked to handle it.  It did not bother me in the least.  Maybe I have not been away from it long enough, or maybe I am just simply not offended by the idea of meat.  I threw everything in a pot and set it to simmer.

Sarah and Matt had a great dinner.  Sarah seems to have inherited her father's love of the food rather than my disdain.  As for me, I'll celebrate St. Patrick's Day with a drink - no, not green vodka, a homemade shamrock shake.

How Ya Doin'?

Early in the process, my sister told me, "I give this vegetarian thing two months."  So, it has been two and a half months.  How is going?

Pretty well, thanks for asking.  I don't miss eating meat, though I confess I am thinking about hot dogs a lot.  Hot dogs were never an important part of my diet;  I only have a couple every year at summer barbeques but somehow the idea of never having a hot dog again is bothering me.  I don't even like hot dogs all that much and I never craved them before.  Maybe what I am really craving is warm weather.

We are eating out less.  Even with my hand surgery, we are cooking at home more and ordering less take-out.  That has to be a good thing if for no other reason we know what we are eating. We are spending more on groceries, even when you factor in the decreased spending on eating out.  I thought not buying meat would be less expensive but I am buying more ingredients per meal so the cost seems to be higher. I am doing better than before on not wasting food, having to throw things out because they spoiled before I got to use them.  Vegetable soup is a great place to throw all those leftover bits and pieces.

I have not lost any weight.  Well, maybe a couple of pounds, but my weight can bounce around in a window of about 10 pounds, so I should not make a judgement on this yet.  We are eating a lot more vegetables and a lot more variety of foods.  I do feel better.

I have temporarily quashed the simmering family rebellion.  When we do go out, Sarah and Matt get meat.  I promised to cook New England boiled dinner for St. Patrick's Day (which I never ate anyway - corned beef, bleh!) so I bought myself more time to come up with better dinner choices.  I really can't expect us to live on lentils.

Overall, I think things are going well.  Now, I need to find something to do with strawberries.  They were cheap so I bought 4 pounds.  What can you do with 4 pounds of strawberries?

So What Do We Think?

My family hates my cooking and I fear a rebellion is brewing.  This week, I have made mushroom ragout, fish stew, and red lentils with vegetables.  All new recipes.  We sit down; we eat, no one says anything.

"So, what do we think?" I ask.
"It's okay," Sarah answers.
"It's fine," Matt says with a shrug.
Lucy doesn't say anything.  She just sits under the table and hopes something falls.

"Fine? Okay?  What does that mean?" I know the answer, but I ask anyway."
"I guess it's okay, but I wouldn't want to have to again," Sarah answers.
"There is nothing wrong with it, it just isn't my thing," Matt says.
Lucy doesn't say anything.  She just stares at me hoping I will let her try a taste.

My family is appreciate of the meals I make, don't get me wrong.  I want their opinion, especially for new recipes and new ingredients.  I just wish I was having a little more success in finding things we can all enjoy.  Good thing pancake day was this week.  My pancakes are good.

At least the dog still likes my cooking, but then again, I did not make her eat the lentils.

Pancakes for Everyone!

I worried that going vegetarian would force me to change a lot of the traditions my family keeps involving food.  Today is one that does not need to change at all - National Pancake Day!  The story goes that prior to the dietary restrictions imposed during Lent, Catholics would use up the eggs, butter and milk that had on hand for pancakes on Shrove Tuesday.  I don't know if this is true, but I do know that we always have pancakes for dinner on the day before Ash Wednesday.

When I was little, I thought breakfast for dinner was such a treat.  We were breaking the rules!  We were being food rebels!  As an adult, I realize breakfast for dinner was my mother's way of getting around the problem of not getting to the store or forgetting to defrost something "better" for dinner.  For today, I am going to think about food the way I did when I was a kid.  Tonight we are having pancakes for dinner and there is no guilt or worry allowed.  Pass the syrup!

Onion Takeover

Right now, first thing in the morning, I smell onions.  I am not eating onions or cooking onions, but I still smell them.  There is no food anywhere near me, but the smell persists.  It isn't my breath. (Really, it isn't.  Okay, pass the mints.)  I am as far from the kitchen as I can be in my house, and I still smell onion.  The onions have taken over.

I have been cooking a lot of stews and soups.  The recipes always start with a sauteed onion.  Once the food is done cooking, some other smell takes over - the spice or the tomato.  I clean up the kitchen, change my clothes, even shower.  Yet, I can still smell cooked onion every where I go.  I don't know whether the smell has gotten into my skin or into my nose or just all around the house so everything in it just smells.

I am going to start wearing a sign: Warning - Being near me may cause and uncontrollable craving for onion rings.  Don't worry, I'll cook them.  No, I don't mind the smell.

You Know What Would Taste Good in Here - Spinach

I tried a recipe for chickpea tikka masala.  When we tried the result, my family and I decided it needed something.

"Salt?" Sarah suggested.
"Maybe some raisins?" Matt offered.

We added both and ate some more.  I got an idea. "You know what would taste good in here? Spinach."

"No, not spinach."  Matt answered flatly.
"Why not?" I asked.  "Don't you like spinach."
"I like spinach, just not in everything," he answered.
"I do not put spinach in everything," I grumbled.

Matt didn't answer.  He gave a look.  Every husband has this look.  It is the one that says "I know you're wrong, but I like being married to you, so I am keeping my mouth shut."  We finished dinner.

I thought back on what we had been eating the past couple of weeks.  We had lentil soup, with spinach.   I made a strata, with spinach.  I tried a Moroccan stew, with spinach.  Gnocchi soup - I substituted the unavailable escarole with spinach.  Vegetable calzones with tomato, peppers and ... spinach.  I used spinach instead of lettuce on sandwiches.  I ordered spinach on my pizza.  Good God, I was in full-blown Popeye mode!  Pretty soon, my biceps will start bulging and I will feel the need to rescue some super-skinny brunette.

Okay, Matt is right, I thought.  I will try and lay off the spinach for a few days.  Maybe I will try some kale.

The next day, I warmed up a bowl of the leftovers for lunch.  I added a little salt and some frozen spinach.  I tasted much better.