Sixty Grit said "I hate food."
That's the most Protestant thing I think I ever heard. Yes Sixty is salt of the earth Scots Irish. The stock that built this country. Dining on beans and weevil biscuits and the occasional squirrel. The Irish who came next were no better. They didn't like to eat. They preferred to drink. It was only when the Guineas and the Greeks and the Polacks and the Jews came over did America start to eat. No more passenger pigeons and occasional rodents. Instead it was brisket and veal parm and pirogues.
Food is life. You have to enjoy your food and revel in its life affirming goodness.
Above is the gluten free lasagna that I made on Monday night. I found these great gluten free noodles that are superb. So good that my ultra picky mother in law came back for thirds.
This is what you are missing out on buddy.
16 comments:
My old man would say to my wife and her family, "The Irish eat bland food so they don't throw up their good whiskey."
I was diagnosed with celiac sprue and avoided gluten for 15 years. Next, I was diagnosed as lactose intolerant. Then, vegetables and seeds would cause me to go into shock. Rice - spikes my blood sugar. Fruit - death lurking.
So, meat, bread, water and saltines - I can eat those without having to go to the ER for resuscitation. So, I am thankful I ate all the wonderful foods I did back when I could. Those days are gone. No more blue cheese pizza for me, nope, nevermore.
The only time these dietary limitations ever bothered me was the time I spent in Italy. Oh my dear God the food there is amazing - I would go into a pizza shop and just breathe. Heaven. But had I even so much as one bite, hell.
That looks good Troops.
I was about to jump to SixtyG's defense after reading this post, and make note of a room full of bowls reflecting a similar but different combination of creative juices, work ethic (Protestant or otherwise), and "from scratch" process than food prep/cooking involves, before realizing his post had prompted to TY stir his stumps, haul out his crosscut saw and go after one of those reknown old-growth North Carolina trees rather than shuffling around in circles through the sawdust of reruns! And how good is that? Almost as good as that pan of lasanga appears and most likely smelled!
I was born with or developed an allergy to wheat as a toddler. This was around 1962-3. I was known as "the celiac baby" in the Madison medical thereabouts then. I forced my mother to improvise gluten-free meals and she feed me a lot of rye flour bread and potatoes. I survived and outgrew the allergy which forced the physicians to down grade me to "celiac condition."
Scotch-Irish.
Scots-Irish only came in when James Webb, professional political turncoat, tried to make good ol' boys sound more refined.
Nothing against the Scotch-Irish. They gave us Kit Carson, Davy Crockett, Daniel Boone, and Jim Bridger
Me thinks thou doth protestant too much, Troop.
Protestanting too much??
Possible, in addition to keeping a prodigious collection of old saws in his tool shed!
In my late twenties, I too developed a severe food allergy response. Before then, I could eat anything with no adverse effect. The reactions started after I underwent an Upper/Lower GI x-ray series with Barium, done to track internal bleeding from an ulcer and excessive aspirin use. That was the first red flag my body started to wave as a signal something was off with the way I was attempting to coping with the stresses of my life and early childhood trauma. I continued to survive without taking those issues into account until my internal motherboard started to blink and go offline when I crossed over into my 50's. At that point finding the hope and strength needed to manage daily survival became difficult with body, mind, heart, and soul affected. Food played a role in the healing that followed. After going gluten and dairy free, and excluding white potatoes, night-shade plants (peppers/tomatoes) and coffee from my diet for three years, I was pleased to discover I am once again able to tolerate moderate amounts of them and am thankful for that.
Our bodies are strangely calibrated in my opinion, and in my experience with people I've met and talked to, it's often the highly sensitive (sensory/ emotional awareness), or the highly intelligent, and/or the highly traumatized (small "t" trauma through abuse or large T Trauma with single incident experiences) whose bodies and digestive systems tend to go out of balance or be affected by foods, chemicals and additives that others can more easily tolerate. Food and drink obsessions and addictions are a whole nother story, a different branch on the same tree. None of us get to walk out the exit without having to endure one thing or another, with life's pleasures and pains accompanying us along the way, and a love and/or hate relationship with food and drink as an active part of that two-handed reality.
We've been ordering and using the Tinka brand of Gluten free brown rice noodles with good success.
My sensitivity to MSG (Monosodium Glutamate), which I was not reactive to prior to the Upper/Lower GI, has not lessened and is still with me in full. My mom used to put a teaspoon of Accent seasoning in her chicken salad as a matter of course; and hot or cold, her chicken salad was delicious. She said it made "a little chicken taste like a lot!" and it did! Same with Nacho Doritos, which were covered in it; and I was able to eat them with no ill effects until suddenly, I wasn't. (https://www.seriouseats.com/2012/06/science-of-chips-ingredients-msg-why-nacho-cheese-doritos-taste-like-heaven.html)
While I'm not sure what turned the tide, for the last forty years I've known that the tell-tale rumbly in the tumbly which proceeds severe digestive issues (to put it politely and mildly)and ends with severe tiredness and a migraine, will start 15 minutes after ingesting anything that contains MSG, whether I know it's there or not. Nowadays, however, even the smell of something with it in or on can give me pause. As an added aside, not only does MSG enhance flavor on ingestion, it also enhances the gases expelled on either end. Was that TMI? No, I don't think so. Some people remain clueless as to nature and source of their killer farts. And there's some who experience nothing but joy eating all manner of MSG laden material. It's another one of those love/hate arenas.
I was told that the well water was safe. It was August, I mowed the lawn, I was thirsty, I drank a quart of well water and nearly died of the infection raging in my gut. It was E-coli, listeria and god only knows what, probably some diesel fuel from the truck place up the street. I survived, just barely, was never treated and over time my gut just gave up the ghost.
That was in 1984, I am still here, I think that one incident was a big T trauma, but we cope as best we can and go on with life. Now food is a only a pleasant memory, and anything off the menu sends me into physical shock, so I am motivated to stay on point.
"Motivated to stay on point" indeed! That recollection brought to mind a prolonged gut infection I had following one of my trips outside the US in my late 20's, along with the thought that it might also have contributed to the disturbance in flora I've been attributing to the GI series. Whatever was involved, things definitely went sideways and wonky with long term consequences.
To "still be here" is good too, with other, different opportunities to relish life still available. Although I sometimes miss the freedom of ordering whatever from a menu, I know both sides of what I'm missing. And I'm reaching the point where I can look at and read about TY's lasagna and imagine the good smell and taste without needing to partake.
Viewing photos elsewhere, however, of highly magnified and about-to-be-digested food items that bear a strong resemblance to partially masticated or semi-digested matter does little to evoke a similar sense of pleasure or positive memory.
LOL - the less I say the better. Once again, I am thankful for my daily bread and the opportunity to see another sunrise, work another day, run when I can, and otherwise keep on breathing.
I spent the summer of 1969 working as a janitor in a nursing home. These are the kind of conversations I heard.
There's plenty of room here for you to add something with more fiber, flavor or heat, ND!
I don't protest too much chickie.
I eat too much.
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