Part 1
Day two of being positive with Covid. Stuck at home. On a gray cold January day. Not fun, eh?
However I may wish it to be slightly different (for example: skip the viral attack!), I have an extraordinarily comfy set-up here, in the farmhouse. It's warm (which you may take for granted, but to remind you -- we live in a farmhouse that is over 100 years old; drafts abound in old houses, but we had this one insulated as best we could and it's working very well!). It has comfort foods in the pantry.
Wait, roll back that one: comfort foods. Food that's comforting and satisfying and easy to prepare. Yes, to all. But food can be a source of frustration too. Everyone's talking about UPF's (ultra processed foods) and how we're finding that both the ingredients in them, as well as the mere act of processing them is... bad for you. Well okay. I cook up our own suppers using fresh veggies (Oh no! Is the broth I use as a base considered a UPF?? I bet it is!) and for goodness sake, I'm back to oatmeal or granola in the morning. I've been a label reader for decades now. I know to avoid stuff with incomprehensible ingredient lists. But now even simple ingredients can fool you. Do you buy packaged breads? You're doomed. Ice cream? Yogurt? Most (though not all) are classified as UPFs. As may be your morning granola if you're not UC (ultra careful).
You cannot win.
I remember when I used to love to drink wine in the evening. I never quite believed it was good for you, but as recently as ten years ago, the calculated risks of doing that were so small that I shrugged them off.
Then came the recommendation that it should be no more than two servings per day, or else! I adjusted.
Then that it should be no more than one per day. I adjusted.
Now they're talking about a target of 0. And they're taking away my granola bars! (The kind I like have processed protein which appears to be a real no-no.)
I'm not a neurotic follower of all these admonishments and recommendations. I recognize the value of having my precious, small glass of wine and my granola bar (not at the same time). But it does seem like we've turned our food production into one big machine that spews out endless poison at us, just waiting to knock us down. I appreciate the studies, the new evidence, the ability to make wise choices, but I do wish food news wasn't always a stream of depressing new prohibitions, stirring up your anxieties and feeding your guilt if you happen to be responsible for feeding the young. (Snowdrop loves loves loves potato chips and french fries. Should I say no to either? Both? Even though she eats a heaping bowlfuls of fruits here, always? Do I want to introduce the language of anxiety over foods to this kid who is only ten years old?)
To counter this relentless and dispiriting onslaught of new information, I did something more positive: I subscribed to more newsletters from food people. I already read 1. Eat Voraciously from the Wash Po, 2. Smitten Kitchen Digest and her emailed newsletter (love it!), 3. the David Lebovitz Newsletter (I want him for a friend!), 4. Amateur Gourmet (he's so sincere and fun-loving!) and 5. Anything that Mark Bittman or Stanley Tucci put in my mailbox. Today I added 6. Dorie Greenspan's XOXO Dorrie and 7. To Vegetables with Love (because I actually do love vegetables), 8. The Best Bit by Clare de Boer (a new name for me) and finally 9. The Kitchen Shrink by Tamar Adler (the name alone won me over).
In other words, I'm switching my focus. I'll still read the depresso news about the recent findings on every food I eat, but this steady stream of kitchen magic will balance that out.
Part 2
Still cold, though not Arctic cold, just Wisconsin January cold. Ed does the chicken duty since he is so close to the barn. Me, I pace the rooms again. Thirty minutes of walking to music. It could not be more boring!
(Friendly the cat watches once more...)
Breakfast -- this is where I can give you color. How fortunate to eat red and orange fruits in January!
Ed comes over at about lunch time. On the one hand -- how wonderful! On the other hand -- I look at him in the same way that he looks at me: so germy! Don't come too near me!
He sits down on the couch and within two minutes, he's stretched out on it, fast asleep. He wakes up a few hours later and retreats to the sheep shed. Visit complete.
Part 3
One pot of soup, spread over three days -- done. Time to cook up another veggie one. In the alternative, I could look through recipes and create something new, different and wonderful, but hey, I'm sick with Covid. Creativity plummets with Covid! Haven't we proof of that here?!
I cancelled everything for this week: dinners, haircuts, doc appointments. Kid care, of course. Tomorrow's my third day of heavy tissue use and Ed's seventh day of snorting and snoring. Let's see if we can both wrap it up by the end of the week, okay?
with love...
