Carrot Top

One of the biggest breakfast taboos I know of is the common exhortation that "You *must* have breakfast! It is a healthy start to the day! Your system will not do well without it!". Sort of a backwards taboo in that it is not telling one to avoid anything but rather insisting that the thing itself must not be avoided. A insistent common folk prescription, perhaps one might call it. Yet I've heard from more than one gastroenterologist that some people can not and should not eat breakfast. Their systems just simply do not like to wake up and take in food for at least several hours. And that indeed, people with systems like this will do poorly if they *are* made to eat breakfast, either by parents or by the fact that everywhere it seems everyone is insisting upon it. The only thing I like for breakfast is coffee. Nothing is taboo at my table at breakfast. I'll roast a goat for you if you want. But I will have coffee and no more, thank you. Really. I insist.

There are actually healthful chakras, rituals, and foods that are advised in adurvedic medicine among other ancient advisements for breaking the fast in the morning as well as for other times of the day in order to be more healthfully aligned both physically and mentally to the rhythms of the sun and moon and earth cycles. Speaking of IHOP, surprisingly they serve none of these foods. How could that be? Boorish of them, I say.

I loved this post. Much here worthy of thought, Janet. Deep thought. Obviously some tests need be done. They must have erased the coffee part to avoid current coffee-drinkers worries. I think there are some texts of the manifesto sort here and there in the Cambridge World History of Food. I'll take a look sometime soon.

Or, if I were trying to sound "nice" I might say that what we eat and when we eat it are traditions that create our sense of community. I rarely try to sound nice, though.

I would guess that the concept of which foods belong at what particular meals springs originally from native availability of foods shaped to physical desire (as in, if you work outside on a farm doing hard labor you are likely to be more hungry at certain hours than other people who might rise in the morning to go tend flocks or do food gathering) (obviously I am speaking of "olden times" for the most part here ). . . then simply, tradition. What our forebears eat, we eat, to some extent. Even though we need not, really, today. It's part of what makes us "us" and them "them", whomever we may be and they may be. And it makes the world a interesting place. People like to know what they are "supposed to do" and when they are supposed to do it, and people like to gawk at people who do otherwise. And gosh that does make it more fun to break the rules, too. There is a wonderful essay that touches indirectly upon this question by MFK Fisher. From "How to Cook a Wolf", it is titled "How to Be Sage Without Hemlock". Slightly different, as the question is of meal balance, but thoughts she espouses are useful in thinking of both questions. Why do we eat the same things we always have at breakfast? Because "that is the way it has always been". ..................................... (Edited for spelling because "each" is not "ech".)

Oh well. I was close. I will continue to tell myself that you must have Libra Moon or something. Or that my wrong guess is due to calendric adjustments not being made correctly over the years by astronomers and calendrists. That's always a good one. Nice looking curry. I'm always changing menus last-minute too, for the kids. Easier to do in today's world than in past history when one worked with what one had and what one had was limited. Thank goodness for grocery stores and the ability to be flexible! (Though admittedly it does sometimes make me cranky to have to change my planned dinner. It feels personal, as if the kids want to purposely drive me crazy. But of course they do not - it just human nature. )

I love the food photos and seeing the things you and your family eat but just as much (okay, I admit, maybe even *more* ) I have very much enjoyed seeing how your kitchen and storage space is set up. You are very organized! Wonderful! I try to be, then things escape and wander here and there and then I try again. It's sort of like a life-long project that is strangely close to my heart. Hiroyuki, your children are charming. And from these photos of your pantry and the photo of you, I am even more sure of a guess I made some time ago from your posts that you are a Libra (born between September 23 and October 23). It will surprise me if this is not true. I am reading a book on Ryokan at the moment. Gorgeous photos. I have a friend who is interested in the trend we have here in the US for "pre-fab" (pre-fabricated elements made in factories then assembled on-site rather than built from ground up on-site) housing but who would like to add some of the warmer, more elegant elements that exist in traditional Japanese architectural design to the coldness that seems a part of many of the prefab home designs here. Seeing how your kitchen and pantry work has been very helpful in my imaginings of this part of the idea . . . but I wonder if the concept/designs that work so beautifully well for the Japanese in living/cooking spaces that make one feel able to take a breath of fresh air from the spare control of it all would work here. Americans tend to sprawl. Stuff, lots of stuff. Good thoughts to all of you!

Except for the changes that can occur due to health or age, that is. Health of course, can be worked on to improve, but age is natural (strangely enough ) and it does affect the palate from childhood to old age, in many if not most people.

I've always enjoyed your posts, Hiroyuki, so am glad to see you blogging, though it *is* a truly awesome task to undertake, in my opinion. Deep appreciation to you. Your writings have touched upon some of the traditions that exist in your culture as a part of food and dining, and I really do love to hear about those. I actually thought you were raised from youth bi-lingual, your English is so very good! Perhaps within the blogging our good-energy thoughts of your wife will be sent, and will be received. Thanks!

I wondered the same thing, whether the piece had to be set as formal "manifesto" solely addressing food or whether it could be part of a larger piece addressing broader parts with food included as part of the idea expressed of how one should live, as perceived by the author(s). Several other thoughts came to mind, too. One, of how the vocation of preparing food has a different history in terms of class or formalism than something like the vocation of architecture, which has been considered a "profession" for much longer than food preparation has, which has been more in the class of "trade" which would lead perhaps to less of a collection of formalized writings on it by well-educated practionioners, which would lead to less of a cogent collection of writings that would be separately considered as theses or "manifestos" maybe. Michael Pollan came to mind, too. And this morning, as I smelled the aroma of this brew that is ubiquitous in homes, coffeeshops, offices and wherever one goes anywhere today, I remembered some writings on coffee (around the time of its first popularlity and the growing of the coffeehouse as places to discuss culture and politics in Europe when was it, 17 or 1800's? Don't ask me, I can not ever remember these things exactly that's what books are there for, to look it up and then sound intellegent and it is too early for that, but I do know it happened ) and how coffee was an evil influence on All. I hope this makes sense. Must go have more coffee, for I just heard the toaster pop and instead went and opened the microwave to supposedly take my toast out and of course it wasn't there. Till later, and I do hope that nothing I wrote here ends up with those frightening little pink double lines under it, Karen

Giving the diner exactly what they request if at all possible is what is done in private clubs and some very high-end restaurants. So maybe tolerance depends on cash flow. (Duh. Hadn't had my coffee yet when posting that. Almost forgot that joke about the short man who became so much more attractive when he stood upon his over-stuffed wallet. )

Right here is something rather wonderful.

I think there are many "manifestos" on food, depending on what you wish to include in the term "manifesto". Looking at the term as meaning "a public declaration of purpose" by a person or a group, the inclusions could be quite extensive. Beyond the ones one might initially think of that come from restauranteurs(/chefs) there might be manifestos found in the philosophers, manifestos found among those who practice medicine, from religions, and I wonder if there are any that could be extracted from various nationalistic political manifestos. Even in initially thinking of this, I can see trends of manifestos through the ages. ( ) The Kellogg consortium was not the first to espouse the particular views they espoused. I can vaguely think of others espousing the same views (perhaps shaded slightly differently but not a whole lot) from as far back as Ancient Rome all the way up to well . . .now. But don't ask me for particulars for I have not eaten my Wheaties today and therefore I am sub-par, both mentally and morally. It sounds like a really fun project, though. Good luck with it. P.S. Was just about to log out and remembered Peg Bracken's "I Hate to Cook Book". That might be considered a manifesto of sorts, and certainly representive of its time. Here's a quote:

Here's some more: Here's one that surprises me, but still I refer to it often enough to keep it, and I *am* an irrepressible book-weeder: The New York Times International Cookbook by Craig Claiborne, 1971 And one a bit more current but which still has aged with grace - Cooking with the New American Chefs by Ellen Brown, 1985 ................ (Edited to remove some titles, because apparently I am old enough now to have become one of those people that keep repeating things they've said before )

More info on Branston pickle (for those of us just learning the course ): Wiki on Branston One of the things that fascinates me is the inclusion of "swede" or rutabaga in the recipe. Goodness knows that rutabagas are rarely in short supply. A good use of rutabaga is a hard thing to find. Here's a recipe for the pickle: Branston Pickle Recipe (Important not to include the root or hard top of the rutabaga when chopping. Somehow I think I got a chunk of one in that last jar. Nothing like a rutabaga root to make one wonder what that *is* in one's mouth . . .texture-wise ) A rather gorgeous-looking Ploughman's Lunch: Ploughman's Lunch Info from the experts at Crosse and Blackwell: Pickles and Chutneys and Such Oh My With a guide to translation of key terms: Branston's pickle really does take the biscuit, doesn't it.

Delicious, andiesenji. But somehow the image of that children's story where the guy goes to sleep under a tree only to awaken years and years later rises to mind when I think of chowing down upon this. Comfort food, indeed. Perfect for eating then taking a lovely nap. Actually that sounds right up my alley. It is the Life to Work Towards, in my opinion Please don't set the Messrs upon me for my unguarded remarks on *some* corned beefs. They sound large, the Messrs, and I am sure their corned beef is everything it should be. Roast pork. From a roast made *with the ribs left on* (a thing becoming more and more difficult to find, here ). On one of those rolls you made. With some nice meltable cheese layered in. With some Better than Branston pickle. Heated in the oven. (I wonder if Branston goes in potato salad as we use the simpler sweet pickle relishes here in "Southern Potato Salad". Might need some additonal spices to balance. "Curry powder" and/or fresh cilantro maybe.)

Sounds like a good potential brand name: "Better than Branston". When I make corned beef, after the initial cooking it gets put into the oven with a chutney glaze to bake for an additional half hour to forty-five minutes. The Branston pickle would be excellent for this. Corned beef is very good this way - it removes the sort of floppish tame-ness that can make too much corned beef rather dull. Leftovers disappear very very quickly with this recipe.

P.S. I imagine that's where the saying "rude health" came from.

I can't remember too very many sick people being in-your-face obnoxious in their sicknesses in restaurants. I can remember very many very healthy people being in-your-face obnoxious in the surety of their presumptive rights in restaurants.

The question of whether we allow those with illnesses that may disturb us to be "around us" in restaurants goes back to the question (or so I think) of how compassionate we are going to decide (and I use the word *decide* advisedly, because true compassion can be both bothersome to summon at times and challenging to the smoothness of daily life our culture seeks to arrange for us) to be. How compassionate will we decide to be today? Will we challenge ourselves to be compassionate, or will we merely be disgusted and angry at that that which does not make us comfortable? Then wishing it to go away so that *we* can have a good meal. (Addendum: To be completely clear, I try to err on the side of compassion when I can. If I am healthier than the one that is bothering me, then I am very lucky in this way and truly can afford the compassion. If a child requires my compassion due to their bad behavior, then god bless them. Sooner or later they will have to grow up and sit nicely. This will happen. In the meantime, I know that *nobody* yet has attained perfection as a parent or as a child. Or at least I haven't heard of it yet. The child will grow, my life will go on with a memory of just how imperfect we all are. And I might even be glad that *this* time, it was not my own imperfection glaring out at others. And I'll be slightly relieved, for a moment or so. Till the next time I do something *wrong*. )

With all these excellent suggestions, it looks like I may have to go buy at least several more jars of Branston pickle. Yesterday, the place where I live was touched by horror, by the darkness that can suddenly appear without warning from the human soul. I live in the small town "nestled in the hills of the Blue Ridge mountains" as the television folks are saying where a student went on a rampage in the university in a building two blocks from where I live, that I gaze upon from my window. 33 dead amd 28 injured. At times like these one is not hungry, really. But if anything can counter, in way of warm assurance, that the opposite of this darkness does exist in the human soul when one wonders what does, what *can* be counted on - It *is* actually Branston pickle. And many other pickles, and many other things we cook and eat and offer each other to eat. They are real, and they are good. To log in yesterday and read your posts, posts from people I do not really "know" in person, posts from people far across wide ocean, and separated by many other things in the ways that we are people, meant a lot to me, yesterday. And does today, too. These offerings typed out on the virtual page show the opposite of darkness, in all ways. Thank you. And soon, I *will* try each and every recipe above. Maybe even the foams.

Actually, Fresser, it always used to give me pause when going to eat at Chock Full O' Nuts. The chain has closed but I do believe the coffee is still available.

Dear Diane (and Wilson of course), You are astonishingly sweet and you are right, of course, given this circumstance. A bunny stew without bunny in it *is* the way to go, to "take the high road", so to speak, as we sit here in our home where eating the bunny is not a necessity nor really a cultural tradition either. It would be a pose of some sort, for us to really eat this bunny. It still is fascinating to me how one animal can be, outside the window as I look in my backyard, considered fair game for hunters and eaters . . . while the same animal inside my house, is considered something to love and cuddle and bond with, something tabu, really, as far as hunting or eating goes. Same thing. Different mindset dependent on luck of circumstance, on chance. Fascinating, and touching, deeply touching. This happens with people, too, I think. They might be separated, sometimes, by virtue of our human nature, into categories that hint of similar attitude. I'm not sure where the dividing line should be between what we hold dear and what we scorn or consider fodder for survival, or if there should even be one, except that of course, it is a eat or be eaten world and always has been so. But in this place, this house, that we try to make a home in large and small ways, this bunny will not be eaten. Sometimes it's hard to stop and think about what we eat, and why we do so. Do we eat from real hunger? From habit? From neccesity? Sometimes from simply wanting to "eat" in a metaphoric sense, to consume? Sometimes, to prove something to someone else or to oneself? This adorable little white bunny, who will have cost me around five hundred dollars all in all by the end of the week (yes, of course pain killers) . . . this pain in the butt adorable difficult little bunny who makes me wonder at what we choose for pets and what we choose to eat and why . . . is perhaps worth more than five hundred dollars in terms of what he or she might "teach" us, just by being itself. I'm not sure there's a really good "answer" to the musings bunny will bring, but we're going to listen and watch, and not bite and chew, this time round. Heh. If Bunny finally becomes "perfect", then perhaps I might have a chance to, also. Each to our own ideas of perfection, of course. Off to wrap more cords, Karen

That's what I thought, too. But I'm still hoping to get a secret recipe passed down from generation to generation for Branston pickle souffle or something like that though. One can always dream.

I've been reading far too many mystery novels where the protagonists travel from British pub to British pub, drinking and eating instead of getting on with solving their cases. When I saw a jar of Branston pickle relish staring at me from the grocery store shelf, I had an intolerable urge to buy it. I am full of cheese and pickle sandwiches now, and there is still lots of relish left. What can one do with Branston pickle besides cuddling it up alongside cheese in a sandwich? Anything?