I think I’ll kick things off with a food post.
I love food. I was raised to love food. Everyone in my family loves food (more on this later). It should come as no surprise that I am not a size four. I have come to terms with this- I could eat healthier or less, but whatevs. What I made for dinner tonight is pretty good for you, I think:
Recipe inspired by my friend Julie, who made a similar one.
- Preheat oven to 400. Cut an eggplant, a zucchini and a red pepper into thin slices and put on baking pan.
- Drizzle slices with olive oil, sprinkle with salt and pepper. Flip over and do it again.
- Roast in oven until they look like they’re at peak deliciousness, flipping after 15 minutes. I think the zucchini took like 20-25 minutes and the rest 10 minutes more.
- Drizzle with balsamic vinegar and crushed herbs of your choice. Top with dollops of goat cheese, serve with pasta or couscous or on yummy bread.
Not pictured: The fresh ear of sweet corn I ate while the veggies were roasting. SO GOOD. I forgot how great corn on the cob is. IT IS SO GOOD.
So about my family and food- we have the most joyous relationship with it when we’re not busy worrying about our weights. I’ll talk about different relatives as I post more about food, but here’s my momma:
My mother almost always cooked dinner for my sister and myself, and my Pop (stepdad) once he joined the family, usually pretty much from scratch. We always had balanced meals- a protein, grain, and vegetable- and they were generally delicious. We’d (or she’d) get bored of making the same dishes many times, and so we’d pull down the cookbooks and the recipe folder and go through post-it noting everything we wanted to try. I still love doing this with new cookbooks.
My mom also taught me to bake, and to bake well- when I was little we’d make brownies not from a boxed mix but straight from baking chocolate. My mom doesn’t bake that often now, but when she bakes, she bakes HARD! She’ll make 10 or 12 different batches of cookies around the winter holidays, then give them as gifts.
When I was in high school, I was encouraged, nay, forced, to cook dinner when my mom was feeling stressed out. I met this “request” with GREAT RESENTMENT and EMOTIONAL PAIN, for some reason. Hormones, I assume. Now? I fucking love cooking.