When the smart, pretty girl finally noticed my attentions, I was hopelessly in love. When we started dating, we established a routine of fixing meals together. Mostly lunch, but often dinner as well, was obtained in the kitchen of the town house she shared with a couple other girls. The biggest driving reason for this was the presence of organic food at the house, and it’s distinct absence at most restaurants in town. Since my father hails from a herd of accomplished (actually, professional) cooks, I was eager to impress this young lady with my own culinary ability. In fact, I’m not half bad.
Organic cooking was a new-ish concept to me, but I quickly learned to pick the string of 7 letters out in a label, and was on my way! Then it happened. One day my beautiful companion suggested we make chicken soup. Harmless you say? You fool! This was just the segway to pulling out Nourishing Traditions. ‘A great recipe for coconut chicken soup’ was pronounced. (Page 198). And it was good. We made the obligatory changes of our own, um, no chile flakes and added some of our own veggie choices, and the soup was delicious.
But since the book was out in the open… well, let’s just say I got a whole new perspective on how food aught to be done. From start to finish. And the girl wasn’t even a fanatic yet. She merely thought the author had some good points.
Some time, and many truly remarkable meals, later, I made the best decision of my adult life, and asked the girl to marry me. We now have much more occasion to make food together, and have found it to be our favourite (and certainly most consistent) hobby.
After being married a little while, my darling wife was eaten by Nourishing Traditions. That’s about the only explanation I can give. The truth is a little more boring, she really did some research and concluded that Sally Fallon’s perspective was accurate, and she wanted, as much as possible, to prepare food the ‘right’ way. I, as the really great guy I am, heartily agree to doing anything the right way. Unless I’m tired, or lazy. In which case, I balk, complain, and eventually get around to doing it. So for the ten minutes a week where I am neither tired nor especially lazy, I enjoy helping my wife cook stuff the absolutely hardest way imaginable. I can honestly say that I like the food, and find the process fun and intriguing, and I’m really glad to be eating ‘healthy’.
And now, the supreme goal must triumph: I want to be lazy. Please, all you cooking men, if you have found some techniques that let me approach the Nourishing Traditions paradigm and still be lazy, post a comment below! Any shortcut (apparatus, utensil, or magic incantation) that reduces the labour involved in making food the right way would be greatly appreciated.