I admit it - I'm a chowhound.
This is a radically different mindset from being a "foodie" - foodies possess a pathetically variable sense of taste, sadly at the mercy of whatever culinary winds pass from the arbiters of taste in the New York Times or Boston Globe.
Mind you, I like a good display of cooking skill as much as the next person. My mother was a housekeeper for one of the Old Oil Money mansions back home in Tulsa, much in demand for her practical approach to housework and cooking.
At least the cooking part stuck.
I've mentioned the Farmer's Market before - A. and I - and two of 2/3 rd's of the kids and the dog - and a red wagon, come to think of it - hit the Market this morning. She and S. spent the last two weeks at her dad's in Canada and they were stocking up to redo their lawn.
So now I have strawberries again (hulling berries while watching "Deadliest Catch" - irony, anyone?) and this evening on the way down to JavaNet I scored two free biscuits at my uptown bakery, thanks to the other two of the set being used as samples.
And thanks to C., who handed off about a pound of Manwich beef she wasn't eating.
There are a lot of wonderful places to eat in this town. Check out the New England listings on Chowhound and you'll see what I mean. I'd like to eat at Vignola or Fore Street - I'm sure their quality would not be wasted on me.
Still, perhaps I am missing something but fresh strawberries, a potato salad using my Mom's recipe, or her frybread, or veggies bought today, picked this morning - or even a hot dog from Marks' or from the guy in Monument Square - there is food that feeds your ego, food that feeds your muscles and food that feeds your soul ....
... and I think you really may need appropriate portions of all three.
In moderation of course.
