Sorry for the delay folks.
January 2013 was the first month since starting my blog back in 2007 where I didn't have any entries. (Ahem, of course you noticed).
I get so much joy from eating, cooking, reading about food - and clearly writing about it too. The reality is that even if I only have on average 1-2 entries per month, there's always a backlog of little snippets, stories and recipes that I think of sharing but never find time to. I know, I know - more is usually better right? Well certainly when it involves spilling 2/3 a bottle of maple syrup on my Egyptian cotton sheets (not an inappropriate X-rated story, more one of me being greedy in bed with pancakes thank you very much) or perhaps more recipes from my recent adventures in the kitchen (crispy chilli asian inspired pork belly or pastry cream filled donuts anyone)?
The reality is that I don't write more simply because well...I'm living life. Now of course, there's a part of this basic "living" that's a bit tedious. Last week's examples might be numerous stupidly early mornings in the office or perhaps a plumber finding what appears to be 6 years worth of lint tucked away in the washing machine filter. Pretty it was not. However, the reality is that there's a lot of good and a fair share of great happening as well. Blessed with some of the most wonderful friends a girl could ever ask for and a great family - that even spread across the globe tries to connect as money, time, and space best allows. Most recently there was a planned trip in December with time spent chatting (and of course eating) with the 5 Shinnicks, Mama Cupcakes and Papa (cupcakes) Bear.
Which brings me to the point of my non-food related ramblings...
The reason it's so important to live, play, enjoy your work? You never know when something is going to happen that will to knock you flat on your ass.
For me it was Papa Bear (aka Daddy) passing away on January 18th. I'm not going to get started on the "what it feels like" crap. It's emotional and physical and hits you at both expected and unexpected moments. Breathing is hard and there's a numbness that sticks with you. But that said and done, let me try, at least in this forum for a few minutes to move on to sweeter notes.
I thought that in small tribute I might cook up some of his favourite foods. But in doing a little bit of research (double checking with mom) she reminded me that while he did have some distinct likes, he could also be a bit fickle (e.g. I do remember many an occasion growing up with mom making something for dinner and Dad all but licking his plate, only to have it served to him a few weeks later to an "eh, that's just ok" response. Not clocking he'd loved it a few weeks before).
He loved traditional Jewish foods, chopped liver and brisket, knishes and kugel. Never said no to a thick soup ala split pea, and couldn't get enough chinese food - be it Marlborough's Royal Mandarin in the '80s or Framingham's Uncle Cheungs in the '90s. The last time visiting with him I picked up some General Tsao's chicken. A small debate over brown or white rice, and then agreement with me that the brown was as good when doused in duck sauce.
All of that said, you couldn't even mention "beet" near him, he hated them in every way shape and form. I can only equate it to my relationship with bell peppers and yellow mustard. Essentially I'd rather poke my eyes out with raw onions than eat these items. Dad felt the same way about beets. He never could get his head around some oatmeal chocolate beet cookies I made last year - "disgusting" he kept saying when I told him about it...which of course made both of us laugh.
Which reminds me of another little side story...
Growing up, mom did 99.23% of the cooking. I have vague recollections of him sometimes whipping up breakfasts at the weekend and mom says he made a french onion soup, including the stock, by scratch. But there's one food related memory that I'll never forget and that was a particularly special lunch he made for me.
It must have been the weekend and with Mom off somewhere Dad decided he could manage lunch for us kids. Placed in front of me moments later a good ol' early '80s bologna sandwich (who didn't love that Oscar Meyer song)? One bite and the next thing I knew I was barfing* my morning's breakfast up.
Dad had slathered yellow mustard onto the Wonder Bread. Rookie mistake with 6 year-old Dana. He learned the hard way...but next time there was mayo there instead.
Daddy wasn't ready to leave us. Even with his personal struggles he was a fighter and none of us expected him to leave so soon. One of the greatest gifts he gave me was the belief in living life and enjoying it as best you can. Squeezing out as many good memories and experiences as possible. So for him that's exactly what I'm going to do.
Just without a side of yellow mustard.
* I remember being in second grade and being asked by the teacher if anyone knew a "grown up word for throwing up" (aka vomiting) Always the super nerd, I raised my hand only to shout out with full confidence "barfing". Not exactly what she was after. I blame the influence of older siblings.
January 2013 was the first month since starting my blog back in 2007 where I didn't have any entries. (Ahem, of course you noticed).
I get so much joy from eating, cooking, reading about food - and clearly writing about it too. The reality is that even if I only have on average 1-2 entries per month, there's always a backlog of little snippets, stories and recipes that I think of sharing but never find time to. I know, I know - more is usually better right? Well certainly when it involves spilling 2/3 a bottle of maple syrup on my Egyptian cotton sheets (not an inappropriate X-rated story, more one of me being greedy in bed with pancakes thank you very much) or perhaps more recipes from my recent adventures in the kitchen (crispy chilli asian inspired pork belly or pastry cream filled donuts anyone)?
The reality is that I don't write more simply because well...I'm living life. Now of course, there's a part of this basic "living" that's a bit tedious. Last week's examples might be numerous stupidly early mornings in the office or perhaps a plumber finding what appears to be 6 years worth of lint tucked away in the washing machine filter. Pretty it was not. However, the reality is that there's a lot of good and a fair share of great happening as well. Blessed with some of the most wonderful friends a girl could ever ask for and a great family - that even spread across the globe tries to connect as money, time, and space best allows. Most recently there was a planned trip in December with time spent chatting (and of course eating) with the 5 Shinnicks, Mama Cupcakes and Papa (cupcakes) Bear.
Which brings me to the point of my non-food related ramblings...
The reason it's so important to live, play, enjoy your work? You never know when something is going to happen that will to knock you flat on your ass.
For me it was Papa Bear (aka Daddy) passing away on January 18th. I'm not going to get started on the "what it feels like" crap. It's emotional and physical and hits you at both expected and unexpected moments. Breathing is hard and there's a numbness that sticks with you. But that said and done, let me try, at least in this forum for a few minutes to move on to sweeter notes.
I thought that in small tribute I might cook up some of his favourite foods. But in doing a little bit of research (double checking with mom) she reminded me that while he did have some distinct likes, he could also be a bit fickle (e.g. I do remember many an occasion growing up with mom making something for dinner and Dad all but licking his plate, only to have it served to him a few weeks later to an "eh, that's just ok" response. Not clocking he'd loved it a few weeks before).
He loved traditional Jewish foods, chopped liver and brisket, knishes and kugel. Never said no to a thick soup ala split pea, and couldn't get enough chinese food - be it Marlborough's Royal Mandarin in the '80s or Framingham's Uncle Cheungs in the '90s. The last time visiting with him I picked up some General Tsao's chicken. A small debate over brown or white rice, and then agreement with me that the brown was as good when doused in duck sauce.
All of that said, you couldn't even mention "beet" near him, he hated them in every way shape and form. I can only equate it to my relationship with bell peppers and yellow mustard. Essentially I'd rather poke my eyes out with raw onions than eat these items. Dad felt the same way about beets. He never could get his head around some oatmeal chocolate beet cookies I made last year - "disgusting" he kept saying when I told him about it...which of course made both of us laugh.
Which reminds me of another little side story...
Growing up, mom did 99.23% of the cooking. I have vague recollections of him sometimes whipping up breakfasts at the weekend and mom says he made a french onion soup, including the stock, by scratch. But there's one food related memory that I'll never forget and that was a particularly special lunch he made for me.
It must have been the weekend and with Mom off somewhere Dad decided he could manage lunch for us kids. Placed in front of me moments later a good ol' early '80s bologna sandwich (who didn't love that Oscar Meyer song)? One bite and the next thing I knew I was barfing* my morning's breakfast up.
Dad had slathered yellow mustard onto the Wonder Bread. Rookie mistake with 6 year-old Dana. He learned the hard way...but next time there was mayo there instead.
Daddy wasn't ready to leave us. Even with his personal struggles he was a fighter and none of us expected him to leave so soon. One of the greatest gifts he gave me was the belief in living life and enjoying it as best you can. Squeezing out as many good memories and experiences as possible. So for him that's exactly what I'm going to do.
Just without a side of yellow mustard.
 |
| loved and never forgotten |
* I remember being in second grade and being asked by the teacher if anyone knew a "grown up word for throwing up" (aka vomiting) Always the super nerd, I raised my hand only to shout out with full confidence "barfing". Not exactly what she was after. I blame the influence of older siblings.
