Beloved gets me. He knows how to win my heart, not with shiny objects, but with gold. The gold of fresh, juice and perfectly ripe peaches that is. A whole box full of fresh from the orchard peaches is currently sitting on my counter filling the house with the scent of sweet peaches. Or as I like to call it the smell of lazy, hot summer days.
And al the things I dream of doing with these peaches dance happily around inside my head. Beloved laughs at me as he grabs on, washes it and takes a bite, juices dribbling down his chin. If I am not careful he will consume too many of them before I start to cook, and I tell him this while he continues to eat the peach. He smiles and tells me two more full boxes are coming to the house because he wants peach cobbler and crisp and we should freeze some of these.
I pause, with this many peaches I can have even more fun; peach muffins, peach butter and a proper peach pudding just to name a few. But I will have to be quick or they will be gone with only the trace of dried juices on Beloved’s chin.
Today the four-footed one discovered the joys of having a toddler nearby. Or as I’m sure she likes to think of it, food everywhere at all times! 😊 A friend had stopped by with a toddler in tow. The toddler was being babysat by my friend child’s parents made a mad dash for food. Or freedom or something. At any rate the four-footed one discovered a few things about toddlers.
Starting with the way they seem to always have some sort of food in their hands. This toddler was happy to share with my companion, which was a good thing because otherwise I suspect there would be a fight over morsels.
The four-footed one also discovered that toddlers aren’t all that stable on their feet. This leads to a whole new game as far as e dog is concerned. The name of this game, make the toddler wobble for one point and make the toddler fall down for five points. The dog got a lot of points today! And the toddler thankfully got a lot of giggles.
The four-footed one also discovered that toddlers are the perfect thing to nap on. Once said toddler had fallen asleep on her blanket on the floor the four-footed one set out to investigate. But as we all know investigations are hard work and so at some point the dog fell asleep on a nice warm, soft spot. Which just happened to be the toddler. Neither of them seemed to mind in the least.
And now for some reason the four-footed one is still waiting for the ever-present food!
It’s always a bit of a puzzle to me how nations have managed to feed themselves of generations using chopsticks or such as their only utensils. The puzzle is they manage to get enough nourishment into their bodies with these two sticks.
You see friends, on the best of days I have some issues using chopsticks. On bad days I have no skill with chopsticks at all. Unless tossing food around counts as a skill. Yes dear readers I am that person who is always offer fork or such in restaurants that normally provide chopsticks on the table. And I’m not alone either, Beloved also will be offered a fork because he is in fact as bad or worse than me these days with chopsticks.
And yet small children manage these utensils with no issue. They can pick up the smallest bits of food deftly with those two sticks. If I had to feed myself with this,ethos let’s just say I’d never worry about diets again. I might, instead, worry about having enough food in myself to survive!
Thankfully there is stuff known as finger food! 😊
So I was having some people over for a meal, nothing formal although given the amount of preparation and planning on my part you’d think it was going to be more formal. I know that my friends weren’t coming over for a five-star meal (woe to any of them that suspected I could pull that off in the first place), but I still wanted to provide a variety of flavors and textures for people to enjoy.
I should point out that I’m not trained as a cook so this is all just crossing of my fingers, hoping and praying it turns out relatively decent. So far this has worked for the most part, although there was the seafood stew disaster, but let’s not go there.
So I visited several different shops, pulled out a million pots and pans (okay not really that many) and cooked. People came over and enjoyed themselves so ago od time was had by all. And the mountain of dishes from all the cooking? They were behind a closed-door in the kitchen so they were easy to ignore while company was over.
After everyone left the dishes could be tackled, cleaned and put away until next time. After I have recovered from this whirlwind of breaking bread with people who matter in my life. Because what’s a few dishes between friends?
Today I’ve been dreaming about food. Well dreaming is probably the wrong word, lusting is probably more accurate. I have been lusting after food today. No don’t misunderstand dear friends, I love good food and I love sharing it with people I enjoy so it’s not unusual for me to think about food. I’ve been known to plan whole menus as a means of pleasantly passing time and I’ve no shame in this either.
However today I’ve been running on the see food, think food, desire food sort of cycle. I blame my medications partially for this shift in my food relationship. I also blame people sharing delicious ideas and placed with me all in a very short period of time. This sharing lead me to feel like I need to try it all, right now. Not that I’m complaining about people sharing these things with me; whether we break bread together or separately but shared experiences I think is a wonderful thing indeed.
The thing is, though, between my medication, my lupus flare and the insane hamster on the wheel that is my brain, I fee exhausted just trying to figure out what to do and try and when. And of course this makes my health teeter totter a bit more. Again I am not complaining for I am blessed, truly blessed to have wonderful people to share food with and more importantly to not having to worry about where the next meal comes from. I just need to tame the lusting of said food into something more manageable so food isn’t falling off my plate!
This time of year there are all sorts of lovely breads being baked. Buns are being made and marked with crosses. Chocolate comes around in the shape of eggs and bunnies. All sorts of lovely meals and feasts are planned for loved ones to join around the table.
And for some reason around this time of year I wonder why I always choose this time to try and lose weight. Perhaps its spring cleaning of sorts, but around Easter I always feel I need to drop the weight. The weight I gain from my medications. The weight I have gained from all the time I haven’t been mobile enough to do the whole calorie deficit thing.
The problem is, while I feel a need to lose the weight I also find all sorts of delicious things to sample. New food is brought forth that must be tried and frequently ends up being devoured rather than savoured. Unless the food happens to be a chocolate Easter bunny. Then everything is fine because for some reason I can’t eat them. Not a nibble on the old ears or a sample of fun the tail.
As for chocolate eggs, I think those are better left for others to find because eating them isn’t my cup of tea either. Some maybe I will give you all the bunnies and eggs for brad and buns and other delights!
The Laundromat Blues were playing, the candles were lit, the smell of biscuits and delta southern food was in the air and al was well. Sometimes I just need to capture the delta in the house here. Even if I can’t get the air in the house heavy enough to hold in my hand. I suspect if I did find a magical way to bring that kind of heat and humidity into the house Beloved wouldn’t cross the door’s threshold. He just doesn’t seem to appreciate it even if it has the power to pull the most stubborn of wrinkles straight out of your clothes.
He will eat the biscuits though, slathered in butter with honey or jam on them. Provided the house isn’t too hot. The rest of the food is a crapshoot with him. Too spicy and he won’t eat it. Too heavy and he won’t eat it. Too salty and he won’t eat it. Too “weird” and he won’t eat it. He can’t fathom eating crawfish and sucking the juice out of their heads. And catfish? He won’t eat anything that feeds off the bottom of the water.
So biscuits were made, corn, beans with ham hocks, cooked greens and the closet I could get to what I wanted was chicken “fried” chicken complete with white gravy. Beloved loves chicken “fried” chicken and can’t understand why people might want to do that to a steak. And since it’s not really fried he will happily consume it, but not the greens or beans. Which is fine with me because it just means there’s enough for multiple meals for me.
So when Beloved heard the music, smelled the food before he sat at the table he knew it was my way of bring a bit of me to here. He also knew that home is captured in many different ways, tantalizing more than one of our senses. And he knew that to say anything about wanting Thai or some other type of food would just lead to a different kind of blues for him. And as much as Beloved loves to sing, he hates singing the blues!