Nibbles

A few random thoughts on a late summer evening…

My neighborhood had an end of summer picnic last night and I didn’t go. It’s not that I’m anti-social or anything, but every time I thought about going, I had a picture in my mind of all of the food that would be there. I saw one folding table after another, covered with festive paper tablecloths and endless bowls of potato salad, pasta salad, baked beans in brown sugar, cookies, cupcakes, casseroles and baked ziti. Whether this was the actual menu or not, I have no idea, but it scared the crap out of me.

I went out to lunch with a few co-workers today. One guy asked me what I was going to order and when I said I was getting a salad with chicken, he said, “Oh, you’re so predictable.” I wasn’t sure whether to take that as a compliment or not. Did he mean something virtuous, that I can be depended on, as in, “I knew you’d be there for me. You’re so predictable!” Or did he mean something totally opposite, that I’m a plodding stick-in-the mud, as in, “I knew you’d be afraid to try something new. You’re so predictable!”

Why is it so easy to eat right during the day and so hard at night? I am the saint of healthy eating between the hours of 6 AM and 6 PM. But once I finish dinner, it’s the attack of the snack monster. I’ve been doing pretty well in the last two months, fighting the good fight against the night nibbles, but make no mistake, it has been a fight. Why does food suddenly become so much more appealing when the sun goes down? There oughta be a law against that! Where is Mike Bloomberg when you really need him?

I’ve been having a love affair with English muffins. It’s not the nooks and crannies because I don’t put butter or jelly on them – I just toast them and eat them dry. Every single morning. (See that predictable thing above.) There’s something so comforting and satisfying about chewing on an English muffin first thing in the morning. It really gets me ready for the day. I have to say that breakfast is my favorite meal. I know some people say they can’t eat early in the morning; they don’t know what they’re missing.

Peaches are another one of my current obsessions. There is nothing like a ripe peach. Really. Nothing. A few weeks ago, I bought half a dozen peaches. One night, I was making my lunch for the next day and there were no peaches left, but I knew I hadn’t eaten all of them. I asked my husband if he knew what happened to them and he said, “Yeah, I threw them out. They were bad.” Threw them out? Threw them out? OK, they might have been a little soft, but threw them out? I get quite attached to my peaches.

Enjoy the rest of your evening.