eats…

It always seems to come down to food in this house. Even Harold has come to recognize the little blue cylinder shake-shake as time for din-din. He swims up to the surface furiously and plucks his flakes rather savagely, as though he hasn’t eaten for months. My cats care less about kibble and more about their milk. Both of them. I mutter under my breath that this time is the last time, every single time (it has a  terrible effect on their bowel movements that has me dry heaving at the litter box), but because they charm me and my resolve is the consistency of oatmeal, I always cave. The kiddo, she’s just happy with anything I put in front of her…whole wheat chocolate chip cookies, sweet potato based chicken curry, carrot-raisin oatmeal cookies (she insists on the carrots, really she does!), and of course her coleslaw. T got me the Deceptively Delicious cookbook, and I’m excited about it, though no  deceiving is required with this kid.

When I think of this kind of cooking, I always think of my grandfather (again). My father didn’t like to eat at chez Russell because one never knew what one would find in their spaghetti….sliced zuchinni, shredded summer squash; eggplant. My father was not down with that sort of thing. But I get the feeling that my grandpa, above anyone else, would surely have appreciated my black bean brownies. Yes.

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1 Response to “eats…”


  1. 1 Doktor Holocaust February 23, 2008 at 8:14 am

    part of me wants to rage against the idea of non-cacao beans in brownies, because brownies are a dessert food and beans, at least where i grew up, were not so much a foodstuff as the fuel for the family mutant superpower, and they were prepared with all the caution one would generally use when mixing homemade explosives in the kitchen.

    the other part of me wonders… “if i beaned up some brownies, would i have chocolate-scented farts?”

    I remember that deceptive cooking. I was once served a big saucy plate of Spaghetti Squash by the same parents who passed on to me my beloved mutations and warped sense of humor. i think that was when I hit the adolescent realization that my parents are not necessarily on my side, and may in fact have agendas contradictory to my own.


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