It was the roast suckling pig at a tiny tapas restaurant that did me in. Believing meat to be less healthful than other options, I had not tasted pork, beef, or lamb for over 30 years. There were no moral issues involved for me; I just tried to eat as healthily as I could.
Jude's Culinary Journey
Why not get right to the point? I don’t like winter. It’s an annual refrain anyone who knows me has heard. The beauty of newly fallen snow aside, there are myriad reasons for my ill feelings about this season. I’m scrawny, with little body fat. Wearing layers of shirts and sweaters indoors, especially when cooking, is cumbersome.
For the 20 or so years that my sister Janet and I were weekenders in this area, we found the time to entertain our little circle of friends on a somewhat frequent basis. I was cook and bartender, and Janet always did a bang-up job of setting a beautiful table and washing the many dishes at the end of a long night.
I have been thinking lately of how my Thanksgiving celebrations have morphed over time.
My sister Janet and I met Mimi in the winter of 2017 when she was occupying the room next to ours at the hotel Las Miraposas in Oaxaca, Mexico. Our rooms opened onto a small cement terrace complete with a fountain surrounded by potted flowering plants.
In late August, a friend and his partner sent out invitations for a Labor Day fete on Sunday, September 2. They had thrown a lovely outdoor gala for a couple dozen people two years prior at which the main event had been, amazingly (and generously) grilled lobster tails.
My parents, raising three children, weren’t able to swing a trip abroad until their 25th anniversary. In anticipation of this milestone celebration, my mother bought herself a handsome, bound journal and, though it was not exactly a diary of their daily adventures, she did jot down the names of interesting shops and wrote of special sojourns.
At the tender age of five, I made a bee-line for the kitchen. It was my first day of Kindergarten, and as I entered the room, I spotted the most beautiful wooden kitchen set consisting of refrigerator, stove and oven, and a sink complete with faucets, under which was a cabinet for pots and pans. It was perfectly scaled to my diminutive size.
We are awaiting the arrival in a few days of our nephew Josh, his wife Jen and their 13-year-old son, Sammy. When they visited a year ago, it was announced that Sam had become a pescatarian. Who had heard the term before? Not I. I looked it up.
I have a small, fenced-in garden just steps from our front porch, making it a breeze to snip a handful of chives to garnish a cherry tomato salad or grab some mint for mojitos when we want a break from margaritas.