Food
Some days are meant for eating anything and everything without a concern about checking labels, counting calories, and worrying about that extra pound. You release all the prohibitions and indulge.
Today we ate a falafel sandwich in a pita—combined with diced vegetables, hummus, and tahini sauce as the last topping. Following that we walked over to the bakery and ordered a large elephant ear stuffed with baked apple slices—under a blanket of sugar.
My son, who once only loved hot dogs, is now a vegan—at least for the present time. What foods does my daughter love to eat? Does she bake bread or cookies for her family? Is she a vegetarian? Does she use a juicer? Does she listen to music when she cooks? Does she collect recipes, own cookbooks, watch cooking shows?
My mother loved white fish and salmon. My father and I both ate cold cereal and three minute eggs for breakfast. My grandmother Yette baked honey cake and served it with cream cheese. My grandmother Cecile cooked the lightest potato latkes. When she removed them from the oil she placed them on a brown paper bag and said, “Let them drain.”
My daughter once made ratatouille with me. We added all the bits and pieces of left over vegetables to our zucchini, eggplant, tomato, and onion mixture. We made enough for two nights and then some.
My mother loved to have coffee out—usually with a danish. I am always reading or writing in a coffee house—drinking either ice decaf or herbal tea. Did that gene for coffee houses pass down to my daughter?
Today we ate a falafel sandwich in a pita—combined with diced vegetables, hummus, and tahini sauce as the last topping. Following that we walked over to the bakery and ordered a large elephant ear stuffed with baked apple slices—under a blanket of sugar.
My son, who once only loved hot dogs, is now a vegan—at least for the present time. What foods does my daughter love to eat? Does she bake bread or cookies for her family? Is she a vegetarian? Does she use a juicer? Does she listen to music when she cooks? Does she collect recipes, own cookbooks, watch cooking shows?
My mother loved white fish and salmon. My father and I both ate cold cereal and three minute eggs for breakfast. My grandmother Yette baked honey cake and served it with cream cheese. My grandmother Cecile cooked the lightest potato latkes. When she removed them from the oil she placed them on a brown paper bag and said, “Let them drain.”
My daughter once made ratatouille with me. We added all the bits and pieces of left over vegetables to our zucchini, eggplant, tomato, and onion mixture. We made enough for two nights and then some.
My mother loved to have coffee out—usually with a danish. I am always reading or writing in a coffee house—drinking either ice decaf or herbal tea. Did that gene for coffee houses pass down to my daughter?
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