Carrot Top

Italian black pepper bread rounds or lard bread (with bits of crunchy salt pork or prosciutto). . . .

I thought it was a piece of headcheese at first wearing an orange beret. With spawn. I sort of still like to think of it that way.

I hope your lunch went as swimmingly as expected, Zuke. No snags in the stockings or hair that refused to "big". It sounded quite exciting! The ideal LWL lunch. . .that's a tough one. I tried to decide this but keep having this thing with the "time". I can imagine dinners quite well of this sort, having done it often in the past. But move the thing to the middle of the day and something wierd happens. My mind just sort of slams shut and won't accept the idea! Maybe I need to go to some sort of transitional training course to move me from the category of "Woman Who Dines" to "Lady Who Lunches". It seems quite impossible! But I'll keep working on it. . .

I didn't think you were, Susan. Just trying to tell you how bad the weather is here. Cold. Almost snowing. Grey. Not like New Mexico. And we have absolutely no good tacos here either. I like the idea of volunteering. It seems like an excellent thing to do. Hope all things that need being done get done and that you do find bits of joy in the day. As for me, I will post my Pranksgiving meal when it happens. Might even take some - - - photos.

Ah, there. . .you see? I went to great thoughtful lengths *to* be pitiful about it, Susan. A long time ago, I discovered that sharing yucky stories with my best friends, when they had their own troubles, was really a great thing to do. Sort of a competition, you know, as to who has the absolutely worst story ever that happened to them. Makes everybody feel better. So let me tell you right now - the weather here is dreadful.

I can see how it might look that way - that there might seem to be that lurking sense of entitlement in asking for a taste. In my case (I can't remember ever doing this but it is possible that the urge might hit me one day) the place that the request would flow from would be a deep curiosity about the food, a wish to not make a mistake on what was a sort of important dinner, a sense of being comfortable in the restaurant, and also almost perhaps feeling that the kitchen might be pleased to have someone interested enough in the food to sort of "closely examine it" as someone once said about cheese, before eating it - a form of flattery, really, to the kitchen.

Rinsewind reminded me of something when she mentioned sports. My son is also not a "team-sports" type of guy. Also like reading and art. Last year he decided to take karate lessons. Excellent. In many ways. (And as a note, there is a boy who joined about the same time - about fourteen years old and getting to the point of being extremely overweight. This year he is trim and strong. He is happy and also has even taken to working part-time at the place.) Karate is a really good thing. Edit: Cross-posted with TPO - karate was in both our minds at the same time!

If his interests tend towards reading and drawing, maybe you can find a cookbook or two at the library or bookstore that he might like to delve into. Let him choose a recipe he likes (with the limitation that it should be more focused on healthy food than "not") and then go to the grocery store together to buy the stuff for the meal and help him cook it (with him in the "lead", you "assisting"). The colors and textures of vegetables and fruits - the idea of being able to create something "from a book" - the pride in accomplishment *can* lead some younger people into the kitchen instead of to the nearest fast food place. If you are busy, it will be difficult to do this on a weeknight, I'm sure. But for a weekend project, perhaps. Another idea is to visit the Farmer's Market if there is one near you, with him choosing what to buy. The life, vitality, and tastes of the things there are so much more enticing than the neat bland rows at the grocery store. The difference is almost like day and night. I've never been able to leave a Farmer's Market without my kids eating half of what we've bought there as we walk home. Best of luck, pamjsa.

Great minds must think alike. The distance between Hawaii and Vancouver is only a short strand of pickled cabbage: Powerkraut

I am often at a loss at to how to do this thing of being a single parent. The fact that I am alone on Thanksgiving is always a reminder of this. Thanksgiving will soon be here and the children will have gone off on a plane to their father’s house. This has been the way of things since the marriage ended – they live with me and spend holidays mostly with him. Any holiday takes on a special shape because of this circumstance, Thanksgiving, most poignantly for me. I am thankful to have a few days completely to myself, free of the every moment demands that having children brings, the sense of always watching ready to help or direct, the constant parental inner eye always vaguely focused. Thoughts of what has happened, this dissolution of the idea of family, enter into the Thanksgiving day, and there is nothing to do for it but to mourn the loss. Tears are indulged in, for tears are a part of life – and to stem them seems to create a false bonhomie that does not sit well nor seem appropriate in some important way. As we have things to be thankful for, we also have a sense of our losses or lacks on this day, whether we are young and missing our family and friends, or older and doing the same thing from a different angle. The children will at their father’s for Thanksgiving. As for me, I’ll eat some things, read some things, and try to refocus on the things that I do have that I am very thankful for. And the meal that invokes the idea of thanks in fullness given to the universe-at-large will be on another day, when the children return. This year, I am thinking of re-naming it “Pranksgiving” and eating foods that surprise. Fun for the kids! And somehow just right as a reminder of some of the things life sometimes holds for us. But if I were you, and if you can manage it, I would do just as Katie *and* as Pan have suggested. A Spa Day, combined with Chinese take-out? How could you beat that.

Nothing at all wrong with your request. A lot wrong with their response. ......................................................................... If you have been there before and have been accomodated, it would seem even more off-putting to have it happen this time. Perhaps it was a new or inexperienced server. . .maybe a new guy on the line who had some definite ideas of how the food should be uh, "approached", hopefully *not* a new written or verbalized policy. The only other explanation I can think of is if they have gone to computerized tabs and whoever was manager at the time could not figure out how or if they should or could charge you for these changes to standard procedure/menu pricing. Fear of foodcost f**kups, you know.

I have eaten this one too. Sometimes it is absolutely the best thing on the pot-luck table.

I'm confused. You want to be spanked with profiteroles? Messy, dear, messy.

To paraphrase Henry Kissenger, perhaps the reason the politics here are so vicious is because the stakes are so low. ← I remember a similar line being used for academic politics. Maybe what this shows is that everyone is getting "smarter", becoming more like the academics? ...................................... It *is* interesting once the brouhaha dies down to see who is left standing, and what stances they each hold individually. I still say it is impossible to ever know this thing called truth when one is so very far from being able to personally measure the facts. I can appreciate, though, the concept that some have of "what is right" and "what is wrong" to do in any given situation. Doing the "right" thing does not always bring profit, though - - - and doing the "wrong" thing may bring acclaim, depending on whether the public cares about intent or not. My interest was in the piece of writing. I've learned a lot in reading this thread how a piece of writing can be looked at by people as something other than "just a story", that's for sure. And in a year, it will be even more interesting to see where everyone that was politically or personally involved in this thing is standing and how (or if) this furor of questioning has affected them. Can't wait. The saga continues.

I asked my eleven year old son this question earlier this afternoon and this was his reply (sung out with a rough-hewn deep voiced Appalachian accent to assure me of his sincerity): "Ooooh, Mommy do you know how to skin a gopher? Tell you what I like. I like a good grilled nunchuk. Nothin' like a grilled nunchuk. Alongside that just give me some o' them phlem cakes. Phlem cakes, phlem cakes. Hey Mom, is there really anything called a phlem cake? I want some. Gimme some chili*pik*onn*tey that's chili pik*onn* tey sauce on the side! Grilled nunchuk! Phlem cakes! An' chili pik*onn*tey mmm mmm mmm. Can't beat that, mm mm." Of course I know how to skin a gopher. But these phlem cakes might be a problem. .......................................................... What, you wanted a serious answer from him? ........................................................... Both children gave me full menus when I asked. The thing is, that I am sure the menus they "wrote" today will be different tomorrow when I ask. How long they could or would go on for with a new or altered menu each day, I'm not sure. That might be interesting to find out. In the meantime, I'm going on a gopher hunt. And am hoping he'll forget about "phlem cakes".

What is the cost of being a green-tea drinking, Birkenstock-wearing, dangling earring, Farmers Market shopping type vs. a Starbucks type, Pontormo? I hope that the undoubtedly hand-glazed painted heavy pottery mugs of tea are not approaching the four dollar "Grrrrrrrande" cappucino at Starbucks. Of course we must do our part to support small business owners, but something inside me howls (and not for mercy) each time I decide to enter the Cave of Fiends that is called Starbucks with my little plastic card that the numbers of dollar signs get so easily entered upon and drawn away from my hoard of gold that is stored in the US Treasury somewhere somehow. Pink is always a bit dubious, I think. It takes a daring woman to wear it. Asian food with anything sesame is always good. Right and proper for the modern teahouse. Savvy.

Yes, you can't beat the instructions in that set of books (the Good Cook). To me, it was a surprise to discover that fact, for the series was so low-key. Low-key but rather full of lots of great stuff, and some not-so-simple stuff. No hoopla, no hollerin' about how fantastic it was. It just *was*. A good thing. (Ouch. I almost wanted to erase that last line for fear of sounding Martha-ish but what the heck. It *was* and is a good thing. ).

I am honestly startled at how vital this institution of "ladies who lunch" still seems to be! What wonderful stories, and amazing memories. The shape has changed and I guess still will continue to - but what fun! Sounds like a good habit to take up.

I've been to the (Columbia) University Club several times, in the 1980's. It was not a ladies-lunching place, that's for sure. Female guests were not actively encouraged but they would tolerate us if they had to upon request of a member, for dinner. Let's not forget the clear or jellied consomme options, now. Aside from that I agree with you on the menu. I had a boyfriend who used to take me to the Colony Club sometimes for Saturday lunch with Mummy. (Heh.) One of the reasons I was curious about the current fashion detail for ladies who lunch is that the first time we were to go there, I didn't have any idea where we were going. I didn't dress. . .uh. . . right. (So what else is new.) It was a terribly difficult decision to make - would he take me to lunch with Mum and Sis decked out in my leather skirt and angora sweater? Or would we have to jump in a cab and get back to Brooklyn Heights, have me change clothes, then hop back in the cab to the club? A dreadfully stressful decision, as you might imagine. No cabs to be found on Park Avenue. We went to lunch. (Not wanting to cancel on Mum.) Mum was rather taken aback by me. I tried to make myself into an eccentric conversation piece that could then be tolerable. It worked okay. But as for the food, I would have preferred to eat, almost anywhere else. Papaya King, anyone?

Are there still many tearooms around, Ruth? I don't think I've ever been to one. I have heard of one (specifically called a "tearoom") somewhere near DC but of course there may be tearooms that are tearooms but not named as such.

My feeling is that some of the clubs might have died out in the nineties -different cultural emphasis was going on with restaurants becoming *the* places to go more than ever before, don't you think? But surely some are still there. Even the hotels in New York went through an amazing renaissance in the nineties - new ones popping up everywhere. . .

Maybe we should start a thread called "strange hambone stories". For I have one too, but it went the opposite way. I took dinner (the whole dinner) over to a friend's house for Thanksgiving once many years ago. She was depressed and said she did not want to cook. Did the whole thing, ate the dinner, we cleaned up and because I had too much stuff to carry home, I asked if I could leave the ham bone in her freezer for a while. All well and fine. Wrapped it up and popped it into the freezer. Later in the week I started to get calls on my answering machine. (I was working a lot of hours then and was rarely home.) "When are you going to come get this hambone?" "The hambone is still in the freezer here, you know." "If you are going to leave the hambone here, do you want me to re-wrap it better?" Let's note that this person was not a cook by any means. The freezer was empty but for the hambone, a quart of ice-cream, and two frozen TV dinners. So it was not uh, "in the way". The phone calls became more urgent, finally on the fourth day reaching three on that same day. I called her from work and asked if there was a problem. "YOUR HAMBONE!" she screeched at me. "IT IS STILL HERE! DO YOU WANT IT OR NOT?" Uh, no. . .please just throw it away, I said. Sorry to have bothered you. Hambones. Some sort of strange thing going on there. (Maybe we can consider this a pot-luck story since I *did* carry that dinner over to her house. . .sigh.)

I've personally been in about six lunches with groups of people (in this case they were women) who were married to members of Congress. There was no focus or intent to exclude men from this group but there were no men there. The lunches were for the purpose of finalizing menu planning for several large functions that involved showcasing New York State foods. I was there as consultant. It was a business/political thing that I was required to do because of where I worked, and I was also required to develop the final menu which would be presented to the Executive Chef at the hotel where the function (which would be for about 1200 people) would be held. The group was quite animated and extremely knowledgeable about the districts that they were there to represent. So much so that the cant of identity politics overtook the discussion at large which was supposed to be about finding a menu and it was nigh impossible to finally define one for the intensity with which each district's identity was fought over as the more important. This group of people seemed quite vitally involved in what they were doing. Seemed to me that there would be somewhere they might lunch in DC together at times. But maybe not.

How does that happen when all of a sudden things start showing up in lots of places at the same time about the same subject? That's awesome. Leads me to believe in telepathy or something. Or else we are all just always talking about everything and only notice what we're talking about when we want to? Thanks for the link, Megan. Now I am off to lunch. Not as a lady today, but as a Mom. I'll raise a glass of school-lunch cafeteria chocolate milk to y'all!

I'm also curious to know whether the concept of "ladies who lunch" exists in other cultures - so far our answers are Western-culture based. Does this concept exist in some form in Eastern cultures?