Once upon a time, a long time ago, I decided to go on a liquid fast to lose weight. Needless to say, living on 400 calories a day of fake “milk shakes” is hell, but one strategy, which may sound counter-intuitive, was particularly helpful in getting me through 14 weeks of deprivation: I kept a stack of cookbooks next to the couch and another one by my bed. Reading recipes replaced eating recipes, and I lost a lot of weight. By the time I was ready to eat again, it turned out that I had replaced one addiction for another. My craving for cookbooks filled five shelves and then spilled onto the counters in my den.
Coupled with the many boxes of antiques scattered around the room, I kept expecting the camera crew from “Hoarders” to knock on my door. But what was I to do when I bought Susan Hermann Loomis’ “Farmhouse Cookbook” for its Best-Ever Chocolate Cake recipe, and then, five years later, her “French Farmhouse Cookbook” is released, with another chocolate cake recipe that says, “I thought I’d found the best-ever chocolate cake…but just when you think you’ve tasted the best there is, something better comes along”? Naturally, I had to buy that one, too. Eventually, it dawned on me that even if I made a new recipe every day for the rest of my life, I still couldn’t make all the ones I wanted to try in my 250+ cookbooks.
My husband and I managed to miss the whole coffee craze. Up until a few years ago I had never had a full cup – try to restrain your horror – and he would have one only when desperate for caffeine. If it was past 10 in the morning he'd move right past a morning cup and reach for a Mountain Dew instead. All that changed one fateful trip to New England where we were introduced to Dunkin' Donuts. Sure, we knew they made good donuts, but apparently their pastry treats were not the reason for the lines cascading out the door. It was for their coffee, which we didn't hold high hopes for.
A few years ago I started a poll on Facebook. I wanted to know what
possessions make people feel wealthy that aren’t expensive or fancy.
Like toilet paper. When I have ample rolls of toilet paper I feel
strangely satisfied. And pens. When I have a lot of pens I feel very,
very rich in a weird way. I just love to not have to go searching high
and low for them. I like bundles of them in the office and kitchen and
living room and a few in the bedroom even. I know it’s weird. I know.
Last summer, New York City rooftops teemed with people sucking on
lemons and downing shots of vinegar. For about a month, in its
characteristic tendency towards cult like obsession, everyone was
talking about the magic berries that made all things acidic and sour
taste sweet, and about the ‘flavortripping’ parties where people
experimented with them. I, however, was in East Africa all summer on a
strict diet of rice and beans sans utensils, and I missed the craze.
Imagine life without Twinkies? A year ago Hostess Brands went into bankruptcy. This week, in the wake of a labor strike, it sounds as if they may be winding down operations permanently.