Who can relate?

I saw this in last Sunday’s New York Times. It made me laugh out loud and it was too good, and too funny, not to share. It was written by Julia Shiplett, who’s a comedian and writer. Tell me, how many of these excuses seem familiar. Come on, be honest.

The “Eating” illustration is by Rattle, available on Flickr, Continue reading

Got my mojo back …

Well, at least my cooking mojo. It’s so bizarre. I’ve always loved to cook. For as long as I can remember, every month I’d drool my way through the latest issues of Gourmet, Bon Appetit and STIRFRYFine Cooking magazines. I couldn’t pass a cookbook store without stopping, looking and buying. I was addicted to the Food Network on TV.

Which isn’t surprising when you consider I grew up in a family who loved to think about, shop for, prepare, cook and eat food. And share it with countless friends, colleagues and family members. My mother was a fabulous cook — as were my grandmothers and aunts and cousins on both sides.

I loved to have dinner parties and enjoyed thinking about what I’d make as much as the eventual sitting at the table. Truth be told, I may have enjoyed the planning even more. Thumbing through recipes, consulting with my mother and yes, even my father, who was the ultimate shopper of fine foods. The best

Continue reading

Day 303. Bon Appetit

Do you ever get sick of all food?  Have no cravings for anything?  Stand in front of your fridge, staring into it, hoping for inspiration?  Willing your taste buds to kick eatingpillsin?  Flip through every cookbook you own, wishing something would cause your mouth to start watering?

Stare at menus, longing for something to jump out at you, screaming “Order me, order me, I’m really tasty, you’ll love me”?

It’s exactly where I’m at right now.  Have been for a while.  Nothing appeals.  Well, that’s a bit of an exaggeration.  I can’t get enough nectarines.  Especially the white ones.  And those strange-looking donut peaches.  Gosh they’re delicious.  I could eat them three times a day.  For breakfast, lunch and dinner.

I do get urges for oysters and  lobster.  But not as often as I used to.  I love vegetables; and the sight of red Continue reading

Day 12. Fall’s Coming

Much as I hate to acknowledge that summer’s coming to a close, I know it is; and it has nothing to do with the fact that the days are starting to get shorter.  It has nothing to do with all the back-to-school advertising.  Or the fact that Toronto’s CNE (Canadian National Exhibition) opened yesterday.

It’s because yesterday, my cleaning lady brought me a paper bag filled with beautiful, sun-ripened tomatoes from her garden.  She does it every year at this time.  It is an end of summer ritual.  And end of summer, means beginning of fall.  I love the tomatoes.  I love the fall.  It’s winter I’m not crazy about, but I’m getting way ahead of myself here.  So let’s get back to the food most people call a vegetable but is, in fact, a fruit:  The tomato.

I have a love/hate relationship with tomatoes.  I don’t like most of the tomatoes available in grocery stores — even high end ‘epicure’ shops.  They look beautiful.  It’s nice to see all the different varieties, colours, shapes and sizes.  But you get them home and they’re tasteless.

So disappointing, because when a tomato’s at its peak there’s nothing more delicious.  Which is why I love when my cleaning lady brings me samples from her Continue reading

Day 2. Peachy Keen


Mmmmm … peaches.  I love them.

I love how they look, how they feel, how they taste; and, I love their scent.  Peaches are voluptuous.  They’re sensuous.  They’re succulent.  They’re  fragrant. They remind me of the film, Tom Jones, which probably had one of the sexiest scenes of two people eating in movie history.  And for me, they are also the essence of Summer.

Enjoying a peach involves so many senses — olfactory, visual, tactile and taste.   Right off the top they are lovely to look at — round, with gentle curves, in shades ranging from cream to coral to red, from yellow to almost orange.  Their perfume is irresistible — at least to me; and I often wonder what the response might be if we (women) dabbed some peach nectar behind our ears before going out, instead of our regular eau de toilette.  And then there’s the feel of them, experiencing the different textures — biting through the delicate, protective layer of fuzzy outer skin before you can get to the soft, silky, moist and toothsome flesh inside.

When it comes to peaches I’m a purist:

No cobblers, pies or ice cream for me.  Oh no, I prefer my peaches in their natural state, so I can enjoy them at their very best.  Halved, very lightly grilled and topped with a dollop of plain, Greek yoghurt.  Sliced and placed on top of my cereal.  Or, like I often do — hunched over the sink, whole fruit in hand, ready to savour every bite.  Juices running down my chin and over my fingers, leaving me somewhat sticky, but so satisfied. Licking my fingers when no one’s watching.

I do have one exception, though.  I am fond of Bellini’s (peach nectar and Asti Spumonte).  But   Continue reading