I love fall, especially when it dishes up the beautiful golden-warm weather it has recently, but this fall I am sometimes finding the contrasts and unpredictability of daily life unmooring. I want to be outside soaking up the last slanted rays of sunshine, but work beckons. I’m enjoying my cooking sabbatical, but since I’m no longer tending the master plan, we may have the fridge packed with ingredients that must get used, or we may trudge through leftovers for five days straight. Your guess is as good as mine.
The past week has seen us riding in the convertible to Mountaintop and Provisions, making breakfast for dinner (biscuits with sausage gravy and crustless spinach quiche), dining on exquisite oyster stew and duck at the Peter Herdic House, transforming a giant pork loin into dried jerky, and “bike walking” to the Lyco football game where we were both too warm and too cold.
I know, I know. It sounds like I am complaining about nice weather and someone else doing most of the cooking, and that is truly not my intention. I just don’t understand the world anymore, or my place in it. If I had to pinpoint the moment of my existential crisis, I would have to say it was about 3 AM this morning, when I discovered that Phil was in the kitchen starting to dehydrate the pork loin slices that had been marinating in a huge tub in the fridge for the last day and a half. Then there’s the 5 pound bag of sun-dried tomatoes, the dried strawberries, and the snack mix that he invested in. Who needs that much dried food in their lives? What is happening here? How much jerky can one family eat? Should I be monitoring the podcasts Phil’s listening to? Why? Why? Why?
This isn’t even the first time. Last month he did the same thing with a giant pork loin and I said nothing. I figured he had some sort of frugality thing he was working out of his system because he kept telling me about the comparative prices of pork and other staples at Giant, Wegmans, and Weis. I should have seen the warning signs then.
Not only was there no “Special Breakfast” this morning, there wasn’t even any milk for cereal. Hungry and cranky, I sat down at the kitchen table, intending to hammer out a grocery list that could hopefully restore order to this kitchen, but who can plan reasonably on an empty stomach? Not me. What choice did I have? Pork jerky for breakfast. Fie on thee!
I can understand not being able to work on an empty stomach because I can’t either. I think that trait comes from my father who was like that! I hope you can work through your ups and downs!
Love & Best Wishes, Mom
We have a long, proud history of needing food to operate properly!