I just want to wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving and remind each and every one of you: I don't want to see your ugly mug out shopping tonight! (Read that in the sweetest tone please.)
As I sit here thinking of Thanksgivings past I'm in love, with the holiday that is. What other occasion can we celebrate the harvest, the intercultural exchange of syphilis (woot America) and small pox (double woot Europe), the family gathering together to resent each other and over indulgence. And the cherry on top? My sister will probably makes us go around the table and say what we are thankful for.
With all the excitement of this year I don't know if it will top last year's awesome Thanksgiving. Maybe it was the sheer number of people in attendance, or the fact that all of us got along for a few minutes, could have been the excessive drinking or just a nice combination of everything but I'm going to vote that last year, Thanksgiving was nearly perfect. It somehow worked, all of that food and all of those people. We even had a full day of classes before sitting down to the most enormous meal imaginable (I made two different types of gravy- two types of gravy is too much). The turkey was fresh, not frozen, which was pretty cool. The aftermath of dinner turned out to be interesting also. There was a panty raid, poor Jamie scrambled to get her wash greyed panties back, and it more or less turned into a brawl. We met the security guard that night, he was a bit confused.
This year taping hand turkeys to the cabinets would be childish, as would passing a bottle of wine around the table sans glasses. I will not carve the turkey because there are people who are much better at it than me. And instead of a small drunken riot, I'll head to work after dinner (a riot indeed, but of a differerent sort, I'm glad I'm getting paid for it).
Happy Thanksgiving.
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Food and People: A Special Relationship
There are a few "special relationships" that everyone knows about: the US and the UK, Bill and Monica, Fat Kids and Cake which takes me to the whole food and folks thing.
As I was warming up left over chicken and my famous mac'n'cheese'n'pepper I was caught by memory blow back. As a child I was at my great-uncle Emory's house for dinner, he's dying I think, and the old folk, who I know know would have only been in their 40s then, were talking. That dinner would have been something southern, fried chicken is the only thing I can for sure remember. Fried chicken was a treat, the family has a history of bad tickers and fried and salty didn't happen in my house because of that.
The even bigger treat, the chicken was fried skin on. (I know, I know, it sounds revolting but fried skin [with the exception of bagged pork rinds] is one of those things that is somehow is life-changingly delicious.) But that treat was ruined after the meal when I heard my father's Aunt Barb discussing the meal with a man, who I believe is her ex-husband. At some point someone said, "They says [sic] chicken skin causes's [sic] the cancer [sic]." (It might not have been that bad but that's how I hear them.) And I felt a lump in my throat, my heart beat was heavier and I knew that the meal I had just eaten was now killing me.
Ok, so I'm a bit excitable and now that I am an adult (as I occasionally assert publicly) I know that even if chicken skin causes cancer I'd have to eat it in mass quantities over a long period of time. Its amazing to me that food has the ability to cause so much fear, but food is a nicest for life.
Food and I have an especially strange relationship. I have food allergies, strange ones, and I can't consume carbs like a normal human because I was blessed with a metabolism that is so efficient that it forgets to metabolize. Today I was considering making gumbo, a good hearty meal but it contains shrimp which I'll eat but the family won't (fear of swimming things, I think) and okra, which I love but cannot eat for fear of death, so I stuck with chicken and macaroni and life.
If I eat okra or kiwis I die, if I don't eat I die. If I eat what I want everyday I die early of a heart attack or stroke and am ostracized for being severely obese, if I eat what I should I am unsatisfied.
Food and people it's all about balance, as long as you can balanced on both your feet while walking up a flight of stairs you're doing it right.
(HAHA don't believe the last sentence, you're in trouble if that's your guide)
As I was warming up left over chicken and my famous mac'n'cheese'n'pepper I was caught by memory blow back. As a child I was at my great-uncle Emory's house for dinner, he's dying I think, and the old folk, who I know know would have only been in their 40s then, were talking. That dinner would have been something southern, fried chicken is the only thing I can for sure remember. Fried chicken was a treat, the family has a history of bad tickers and fried and salty didn't happen in my house because of that.
The even bigger treat, the chicken was fried skin on. (I know, I know, it sounds revolting but fried skin [with the exception of bagged pork rinds] is one of those things that is somehow is life-changingly delicious.) But that treat was ruined after the meal when I heard my father's Aunt Barb discussing the meal with a man, who I believe is her ex-husband. At some point someone said, "They says [sic] chicken skin causes's [sic] the cancer [sic]." (It might not have been that bad but that's how I hear them.) And I felt a lump in my throat, my heart beat was heavier and I knew that the meal I had just eaten was now killing me.
Ok, so I'm a bit excitable and now that I am an adult (as I occasionally assert publicly) I know that even if chicken skin causes cancer I'd have to eat it in mass quantities over a long period of time. Its amazing to me that food has the ability to cause so much fear, but food is a nicest for life.
Food and I have an especially strange relationship. I have food allergies, strange ones, and I can't consume carbs like a normal human because I was blessed with a metabolism that is so efficient that it forgets to metabolize. Today I was considering making gumbo, a good hearty meal but it contains shrimp which I'll eat but the family won't (fear of swimming things, I think) and okra, which I love but cannot eat for fear of death, so I stuck with chicken and macaroni and life.
If I eat okra or kiwis I die, if I don't eat I die. If I eat what I want everyday I die early of a heart attack or stroke and am ostracized for being severely obese, if I eat what I should I am unsatisfied.
Food and people it's all about balance, as long as you can balanced on both your feet while walking up a flight of stairs you're doing it right.
(HAHA don't believe the last sentence, you're in trouble if that's your guide)
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