I have the oddest cold. I picked it up from the kiddos over New Year's weekend. Little S. spent all of Saturday lying in a stupor on her grandma's lap, and full-grown S. and I both started whining about our versions of it the Sunday next. I am strangely surprised by its trajectory. I was only really sick for two days (Monday and Tuesday), and each day has been measurably different in severity, first worse and then better, than the last. I could chart this cold on a calendar. Don't most colds do more lingering than this? (Just watch, now this level of cold at which I am currently will linger for weeks. I have probably spoken too soon.)
...
I made sushi for the first time last Saturday. It was surprisingly easy, although I was not the one responsible for the additions one makes to the rice, which looked complicated. If I had been, it might have turned out just about as well as the sweet potato fries I tried to make: disastrously. (I just googled sweet potato fries and realized I did not have the oven on hot enough. Oops.) I ate far too much of the rice plain. Hm, delicious white carbs with rice vinegar. We made vegetarian sushi, full of carrots and cucumber and diacon and sweet potato. I looked around at the table, at sushi and sweet potato fries and red wine, and realized that five years ago I did not like one of those things, and now I love (sushi, sweet potato fries) or at least tolerate (red wine) all of them. Isn't it odd how your taste buds change?
I remember the first time I ate sushi, and how much I hated it. It was at an event at the sports club of the family with whom I lived when I was studying French in Montreal. I felt very sophisticated, standing at the reception, taking a few pieces of sushi, but I hated the taste of the seaweed. I didn't try it again until the end of the summer of 2006, when I came back to New York and my friends R. and P. took me out to dinner. Then, I was cautious. Now I gobble it.
"Eat through the pain," I said when we had all stuffed ourselves on Saturday night, mimicking my roommate S. from the New York days. "Eat through the pain."
...
I made sushi for the first time last Saturday. It was surprisingly easy, although I was not the one responsible for the additions one makes to the rice, which looked complicated. If I had been, it might have turned out just about as well as the sweet potato fries I tried to make: disastrously. (I just googled sweet potato fries and realized I did not have the oven on hot enough. Oops.) I ate far too much of the rice plain. Hm, delicious white carbs with rice vinegar. We made vegetarian sushi, full of carrots and cucumber and diacon and sweet potato. I looked around at the table, at sushi and sweet potato fries and red wine, and realized that five years ago I did not like one of those things, and now I love (sushi, sweet potato fries) or at least tolerate (red wine) all of them. Isn't it odd how your taste buds change?
I remember the first time I ate sushi, and how much I hated it. It was at an event at the sports club of the family with whom I lived when I was studying French in Montreal. I felt very sophisticated, standing at the reception, taking a few pieces of sushi, but I hated the taste of the seaweed. I didn't try it again until the end of the summer of 2006, when I came back to New York and my friends R. and P. took me out to dinner. Then, I was cautious. Now I gobble it.
"Eat through the pain," I said when we had all stuffed ourselves on Saturday night, mimicking my roommate S. from the New York days. "Eat through the pain."
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