Tag Archives: dessert

Mon Regime fou Francais (My Crazy French Diet)

18 Jul


Eat dessert twice a day (space it out if desired).

Follow with: unlimited cream, whole milk, whole eggs, coffee (see “unlimited cream”), bread, cheese, beer, wine and crepes.

Stroll for miles because it’s beautiful and because you can.

Smoke like there’s no cancer (or tomorrow).

Visit the burial sites of Seurat, Chopin, Morrison, Wilde, Molière and others.

Return 4 pounds lighter with the dust of a thousand souls in the cuffs of your pants.

Cost: $1,000 per pound.

(Only €850 per kilo though!)

Repeat as necessary.  And it will become necessary.

Happy Thanksgiving?

23 Nov

Last time I traveled and did the whole extended family Thanksgiving thing, I was accused of delaying dessert to get attention.

If you know my brother, you know that this harebrained idea is not a stretch for him.

It’s because I chew slowly- I always have.  Perfect strangers have leaned across restaurant tables to commend me on my rumination techniques (Key West, April, 2010.  These same strangers also said that my son was amazing because he had a conversation with his parents over dinner instead of just sitting there and rolling his eyes.  P.S. The strangers were aware of our conversation only because we had just flown in and the boy’s ears were clogged so he spent the entire meal YELLING… no one was spared, not even the strangers.  Which is why I consider them to be perfect.

Possessing only one stomach means that, unlike cows, I am unable to digest grass.  I do believe, however, that if cows were limited to one stomach, they would be chagrined at their ability to convert burritos to energy compared to me.

My brother, however, views my chewing as yet another attempt by his former over the top, drama- loving teenage sister at controlling the destiny of our entire family.  Note: yes, I once threw myself on my teenage bed and sobbed at the unfairness of life, the beauty of the sun, the pain of a breakup and my curfew.  Okay, more than once.  But, really, the issue was my destiny and no one else’s.  Besides, who’s the one who spent months traveling around with the Grateful Dead causing our parents to harass the remaining kids to “get good grades and please, for crying out loud, STAY in school where we can find you.  We have enough to worry about with your brother eating grilled cheese sandwiches from parking lots.”  If anyone was guilty of attention-seeking, it was him.

In case he hasn’t noticed, we’re grown ups now.  And I don’t care if my brother has dessert, sets fire to dessert or skips dessert completely- truthfully, it wouldn’t kill him to miss a dessert (or seven).

And so I will not travel on Thursday.  I will not disrupt my brother’s eating schedule/football viewing.  I will, instead, finish my meal as I have always done, just as the guys begin to eat what are now considered “leftovers” while dirtying another set of clean dishes to eat more of the foods that they just finished eating.

I’ll be upstairs crying over the dryness of dishpan hands, the unfair distribution of metabolic qualities and the beauty of it all.

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