Wednesday, August 19, 2009
A few weeks ago I totally splurged and went to see "Julie and Julia" with a dear friend who is a fellow food and movie lover. It was a marvelous afternoon. My friend is a fabulous cook who also happens to be over six foot just like Madame Julia, so it was even more fated and wonderful. It was a fantastic film; Meryl Streep is just too incredible, and if Julia Child really was anything like Meryl depicted, then she is my new hero. She was so upbeat and brave and infectiously joyous about life and of course, food. Tonight as I ate with my kids I was doing my best Julia impression to try to entertain them and excite them over some awesome tortellini. It didn't work for them, but it made me think about how much joy I find in food, and if I took time to actually enjoy and relish the eating experience, I bet I wouldn't eat as much. I would savor more and stuff less. I wouldn't eat things I didn't really enjoy, like lame cookies and plain chocolate chips. I would reserve my palette for true deliciosity. Today I was reading an article where a woman outlined her seven steps to a healthy relationship with food. All her ideas sounded so lovely and doable. . . if you were single. One of her rules is to always eat sitting down to create a peaceful meal experience. Clearly, this woman has never had to put dinner on the table, outmanned three to one. The youngest of the opposition is bellowing out her lungs between every bite of oatmeal because it can't come fast enough. The two year old is announcing she does not like the tortellini, but is scarfing all the rosemary sweet potato fries (another recipe to the right) and if you wait to have a peaceful time, you will miss out on those completely. So, I had to snag a few tortellini--and oh yes I used my hands--as I could. I was so not relishing or savoring. I was eating in the trenches. Then the kids are in bed and I crave that decompressing mealtime that I missed out on. I want to sit and snack in peace. But, my 8pm curfew passed 20 minutes ago. I cave. I eat a banana and milk with a few grapenuts. Weak, sure, but I sat still and enjoyed it, and the m&m's remain untouched, so there. Lesson? I think even if it means eating later and at odd times, I'm not going to try to eat with the kids anymore. No snitches, no cramming lunch in my mouth while feeding Emma and pouring Lucy's water. I just won't eat until I can do it meaningfully. That's the theory anyway. I am so full of good theories.