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Stuffed

I was fortunate to be able to host my in-laws for Thanksgiving again this year.  Because it was going to be a small gathering – just 8 of us – we tried not to overplan or over-cook.  We didn’t enjoy ‘the big meal’ until evening, around 5:30.  We needed to work around some third shift schedules and such.  

We roasted the turkey and had dressing, cranberry relish, sweet potatoes and brussel sprouts for sides.  My sister-in-law brought a veggie tray and salad with all kinds of fixings.  My in-laws brought homemade bread, rum cake, and apple pie.  I had also made a pumpkin pie and cookies.

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I was quite disappointed with the meal – the parts that I was in charge of  – the turkey and sides.  Nothing tasted special or good enough.  It was just food.  Nothing special.

But, as is customary, we ate leftovers for the next couple of days.   The exact same food – reheated.  All of it smashed together on a plate.  And other than adding some salt – which most of the dishes did need – there was nothing else done to prep the food for reheating.

And, you know what, the leftovers were great.  I mean really good food!  It didn’t seem like leftovers and I wasn’t disappointed that I was eating them over and over again.

At first, I couldn’t figure it out.  How had this same food tasted so boring and really bad on Thanksgiving day?

My only explanation is that I was already stuffed when we sat down to eat.  We had a light lunch, but had snacked around all day in anticipation for the big meal.  I wasn’t a bit hungry when I sat down to eat.  As a result, the food tasted bad.  I didn’t need it.  I’m not sure I even wanted it.

But, the next two days, when I wasn’t cooking because we were having leftovers.  I was hungry.  The food was great.

Here’s what I learned: food only tastes good when I’m hungry; and more importantly, it tastes bad when I’m already stuffed.

 
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Posted by on November 27, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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The next best thing since sliced bread

I still remember the weekend I met my future in-laws.  My husband and I were dating and I was traveling to his hometown with him for the weekend.  We were making the trip there because I had a college friend having her wedding shower (my college friends being from his hometown and me not meeting him at college – that’s another blog post).

His dad, my future father-in-law, had made homemade bread.  It was really good.  The kind of really good that on the drive to their house the second time I asked “do you think your dad will have homemade bread again?”  

And over the next couple of years I continued to ask that same question.  I guess I’m a slow learner.  This wasn’t a phase of his father’s where one day we would visit and *gasp* we would be served regular store-bought sliced bread.  

His father bakes bread.  He doesn’t sell it but he does SHARE it.

This story began back in 1997 and lucky for me, 15 years later there is still homemade bread.  After we had children, the kids took to calling it Grandpa Seed bread.  

My 12 year old daughter is quite the cook.  She has shown an interest in Grandpa Seed bread a few times, but she’s just now getting old enough to really be able to manage it on her own.  She is feeding the starter, baking the bread and now, most importantly, she’s sharing the bread.

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At mass this past weekend, it was announced that before Holy Thursday mass there would be a soup and bread dinner for anyone who would like to attend.  She asked on the car ride home if she could make bread to donate for the meal.  I assumed the answer would be yes, checked with the coordinator, and was thrilled when the answer was both a  yes and ‘wow, that’s exciting!’

What have I learned: there is something better than sliced bread: Grandpa Seed bread.  A tradition handed down from one generation to the next and SHARED with those you love the most.

 

 

 
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Posted by on April 5, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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