A current local thread on Facebook asked what restaurants now gone people missed most--my gosh, you'd never know Fort Worth had so many defunct restaurants. There are currently over 625 comments on that thread (no I didn't count them--the original questioner announced that). I did respond early on, so now I get all future responses in my mailbox. Some are getting quite repetitive, and I've resisted the urge to add Papa Joe's on NW 28th St. to the list. It was a hole in the wall, and I doubt many remember it but it sure had good chicken fried steak. Salad was a wedge of lettuce and a bottle of French dressing on the table, and I never ate there without thinking the back room was a fire trap. It's long gone.
One person asked why there is always so much interest in food, and I appreciated the response someone else gave to the effect that food binds us together. We share our lives when we share food; we become family and community at meals.
As if to prove that, I had dinner tonight with two longtime dear friends. We were celebrating one's birthday--and instead of letting us pamper her she served an appetizer (Havarti and apple slices--I ate so much I wasn't hungry) followed by dinner at the restaurant of her choice--already full, I had a small plate of crab and salmon cake. And then back to her house for chocolate crème brulee. (I really meant not to eat dessert but since it was a birthday and it was chocolate....) We had a wonderful time talking about everything from ailments and doctors (we've reached that age) to travels and animals and careers. I am blessed to have such friends.
But today it seems food was the highlight of my day. It began with grocery shopping and a bit of thinking about menus for the week--a post on Mystery Lovers' Kitchen reminded me that my version of curried chicken salad would be good. Beyond that, I'll live on tuna and ham salad and eggs--and meals out.
Then a friend and I had lunch at George's Imported Foods, a Greek deli. I had a wonderful Greek turkey sandwich, which was turkey and good Greek salad in French bread (pita was a choice, but I'm just not a pita fan). So good especially because the bread soaks up that lemony dressing--and I brought half of it home.
I stepped on the scale this afternoon, and it reminded me that I need to have fewer days about food. Writing? Nope, didn't get any done. Yesterday, almost 3,000 words; today none. Not a disciplined way to write a novel.
One person asked why there is always so much interest in food, and I appreciated the response someone else gave to the effect that food binds us together. We share our lives when we share food; we become family and community at meals.
As if to prove that, I had dinner tonight with two longtime dear friends. We were celebrating one's birthday--and instead of letting us pamper her she served an appetizer (Havarti and apple slices--I ate so much I wasn't hungry) followed by dinner at the restaurant of her choice--already full, I had a small plate of crab and salmon cake. And then back to her house for chocolate crème brulee. (I really meant not to eat dessert but since it was a birthday and it was chocolate....) We had a wonderful time talking about everything from ailments and doctors (we've reached that age) to travels and animals and careers. I am blessed to have such friends.
But today it seems food was the highlight of my day. It began with grocery shopping and a bit of thinking about menus for the week--a post on Mystery Lovers' Kitchen reminded me that my version of curried chicken salad would be good. Beyond that, I'll live on tuna and ham salad and eggs--and meals out.
Then a friend and I had lunch at George's Imported Foods, a Greek deli. I had a wonderful Greek turkey sandwich, which was turkey and good Greek salad in French bread (pita was a choice, but I'm just not a pita fan). So good especially because the bread soaks up that lemony dressing--and I brought half of it home.
I stepped on the scale this afternoon, and it reminded me that I need to have fewer days about food. Writing? Nope, didn't get any done. Yesterday, almost 3,000 words; today none. Not a disciplined way to write a novel.
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