Adult Food

I love food.  Have I said this before?  I LOVE FOOD.

I've always been a good eater.  I remember cleaning my plate as a kid, learning to try everything at least once, the bottomless pit that my stomach became when it came to sweets.  Mmm.  Food.

But now I'm all grown up, well, mostly, and I get that food is more than just taste. I get that sometimes you need to eat sauteed chard, even when all you want is a second helping of creamy mashed potatoes, bceause you know, it's good for you.  I get that I shouldn't bake (and eat) a batch of cookies a week (but you only live once right? and what's life without cookies!)  I get that I probably shouldn't buy butter in bulk because that's just asking for trouble (but come ON! It's SO much cheaper!)  I get that moderation is key, variety a must.  I get it.

Then I had kids.  Did you know that having kids makes it REALLY hard to eat well?  Well, they do.

I vowed when I had kids to start them eating right from the start.  I made their baby food, no real feat on it's own, but I made better food for them than I ever made for myself.  Blackberry ricotta parfaits, minced lamb and pear braises, heck, the first time I tried bulgur was in a casserole I made for Ainsley.

But somewhere I'd lost myself.  Like a lot of mothers and wives out there, I put most of my energy towards making stuff for THEM, the kids and the boy.  I fiddled with mac and cheese until I had a healthy (well, healthy-ish) recipe that my girls loved,  tried countless roast and chicken marsala recipes until I had them perfect (Ian's favorites).  But what about me?

While eating yet another cream cheese and boysenberry jam on whole wheat with my girls the other day it hit me.  I want to LOVE food again.

Luckily for me, this epiphany occurred in the midst of reading my new all time favorite book A Homemade Life by Molly Wizenberg, truly the perfect compilation of all things I hold most dear: humor, family, stories, growing, learning, loving, oh yeah, and food.  I first got this book at the library on a recommendation from Chinaberry.  3 chapters in I simply knew I had to own it, that lending it back would be far too painful and wrong.  So I used residual birthday amazon funds (I know, I'm impressed I've stretched them this far too) to purchase my own beautiful copy.  I haven't put it down.

Firstly, the author?  Molly?  She's like the fourth sister I never had.  I'll be honest, I have a bit of a crush on her.  She studied French and anthropologie in college, dated hippie vegetarians and moved to France when it all felt a bit stiff.  She ate her way through patisseries and cafes, living on fresh baguettes, pan au chocolates and ratatouille.  Then she came home and revamped.  Discovered she too loved food and writing and made a living out of it.  Amazing.

Ridiulously wonderful writing and charm aside, I want to make EVERYTHING in her book.  Each chapter ends with (or leads up to, depends on how you look at it) a recipe.  A dessert her mom only made for special occassions that she still salivates over, the sentimental eggs she spoon fed her father while he wasted away from bone cancer, the simple delicious meals she learned to make with her vegetarian fiance.  I love them all.

Last weekend I made her coeur a la creme.  A deceptively simple dessert.  Think cheescake mousse with a seedless raspberry sauce.  Delicious and SO decadent even I couldn't finish an entire bowl.  Definitely putting that one on the list.

Then I was primed.  You know me and chefs.  Once I find one I like I go a little nuts (coughthepioneerwomancough). I couldn't get my mind off her brilliant and delicious sounding lunch regimine of homemade soup with fresh bread and a few slices of good cheese.  I just had to copy.  So I made her tomato fennel soup, bought a delicious wedge of gouda and fresh rolls, and Ian and I devoured it.  I haven't had something that good (and simple) in a long long time.

Tomato Soup with Two Fennels

Saturday night was the real test.  We had friends coming over, an occasion that typically necessitates a menu, surely shopping for special ingredients, planning, timing, execution.  But I was spent.  After a big-ish run in the morning and an upset stomach following (thanks dumb energy bar I ate on an empty stomach before a 6 miler :oP) I had little zeal left for food and was weary of spending lots on a meal I hardly had the palate for.  So I scrounged.  Made some pizza dough, carmelized some onions, fried up a bit of bacon and topped the dough.  The pizza came out nicely if I do say so myself.  Carmelized onion, spinach and olive pizza on one crust, bacon and egg pizza on the other (ooh, that was surprisingly good).  Our guests brought delicious salad and wine and after the girls finally exited the party we devoured Molly's French Yogurt Cake.  I substituted orange zest for the lemon and added a layer of frozen blackberries in the middle.  Glazed with a simple syrup this cake was near perfection and so simple.  I'm in love.

All that was left this morning, 

spoon and all from an impromptu post breakfast pre outing scarf by Ian

And how could I stop with the success of that cake?  Last night while pork chops simmered in a bath of onions, carrots, potatoes and a brothy roux I mixed up Molly's banana bread with crystallized ginger and chocolate chips.  How did I happen to have crystallized ginger in the pantry?  well, ask the gingerbread I never made last December.  I knew I'd use it some time!  Family tea and game time tonight was nicely rounded out with the subtle surprise of soft ginger.  I may never make normal banana bread again.

Louise, her tea, an errant shoe (is there ALWAYS a lone shoe roaming around our home?) 

and Orchard, my favorite family game.

It's been good, this discovery of food that's good and me, the assurance that my tastes matter too, that it's ok to make something just for me every once in a while, and as it turns out?  the rest of my family seems to like my taste too.

Ahh.  Adult food, welcome back to my life.  And Molly?  Thanks so much for showing me the way.