Monday, January 4, 2010


The only thing I made yesterday was hot chocolate. It sounded good. I really wanted Mexican hot chocolate, but it requires a blender and Sam was sleeping.

So, leftovers. Sam is finishing the almond cake for breakfast. You know when your child eats an eensy weensy amount and you're like, "That can't be enough." But you don't want to push it or judge it because heaven forbid the kid get a complex and lose the ability to judge what is enough. We know our bodies! As we steadily work toward adulthood we sort of detach from them ... and healthy emotional expression ... what was I saying? Yes, Sam was eating the leftover almond cake because dessert for breakfast is sometimes okay. He liked it and it had eggs and almonds, both of which are good for you. The refined sugar, not so much.

I read somewhere - probably in something by Elson Haas - that refined sugar is the single worst thing to happen to human health. Wow.

I know a place where cookies are a perfectly acceptable breakfast. That place is Spain. When I lived in Barcelona, my abuela (grandma) saw me running off to class and cornered me. "Did you eat?" I stammered and looked at the floor, mumbling that I ate cookies. I readied myself for the back of her hand. Instead, she said, "Oh, good. I thought you didn't eat breakfast." Cue angelic music. This is the best place on earth.

So, really now, leftovers. Let me say that I am not opposed to them. I know people who won't eat them, which puts a lot of pressure on the cook. I have to cook exactly enough for two people? Hard. In addition, that means that you have to make your own lunch every day. I recall my teaching days. I looked forward to lunch when I knew there were leftovers waiting for me. I ran to the lounge in order to get the microwave first - you have to run just in case someone dares to bring a frozen meal that takes 7 minutes to heat up. What?! Get to the back of the line with that crap! This will take me 45 seconds! Normally, my lunch was yogurt, fruit, carrots, and some stale bread. I tried to make too much most nights for dinner. "Ah, well. I guess someone has to eat these leftovers." There was certainly no way I was buying a lunch from the cafeteria. Surely you jest.

Today I had leftovers from the Morgan dinner. Last night I had the very same combination of leftovers: bulgar-spaghetti with carmelized onions, roasted root vegetables, and trout. Last night, it was fine; today, uh, it's getting peaked. Trout becomes fishier with the passing days. I removed the lid on the tupperware that the whole fish was sitting in, and bam!, so much fish stank. It's not pleasant. I don't think I will hold on to this one until tomorrow's lunch. And I can't give it to Sam because of tiny bones that I might miss. Hm. My cat might like it.

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