Since Christmas, I have been meaning to give you all (or as us Texans say, All Y'all) a review of the cookbook Apples for Jam by Tessa Kiros.  Let me just say that this book is candy for the eyes.  She arranges the chapters by color instead of food type.  How great is that!  You can read about winter squash fritters and greek yogurt with condensed milk and oranges within a matter of a few pages.  Winter squash fritters people!  When is a fritter not a good idea?  Most of the recipes consist of simple ingredients that resonate of home cooking.  In fact, when I read it, I couldn't help but think about my own childhood meals.  This is the kind of cookbook you want to sit down with a warm beverage and pour over.

Speaking of cookbooks, I don't think I have ever mentioned that all of mine have their home in our living room.  For a long time I kept the cookbooks in the kitchen.  But then I realized that I was always taking them over to the couch to peruse.  For me, cookbooks aren't really instructions for cooking, but inspiration for making meals into memories.  If you really think about it, how many moments in your life did not have special food involved?  Usually, if I am asked to remember something from my past, my first thought is of the meal we had...then the other memories follow.  Examples for your enjoyment:

David's 25th birthday was at this amazing French restaurant in San Antonio.  His parents took us there for Lobster Thermadore.  My biggest memory from that meal was  that one of his brothers didn't want to eat the mushroom paté on his plate, so I made him try it, to which he did and ended up loving it.  I am sort of known as the one who makes Mikey eat things he says he doesn't like...like mint jelly.

In kindergarten I lived in north Texas with my parents on my Grandmother and Papa's farm.  We ate many meals over there, and those meals are my primary memories from that time.  Like the chicken and dumplings my grandmother made, and the fried shrimp which my brother obsessively monitored the allotment to each individual.  And the pork chops that my Papa grilled outside that have never been rivaled and we ate with our fingers.

Or the fruit salad with cottage cheese that I ordered every Saturday from House of Pies in Houston.  David and I would go there before his rugby games and sit at the counter.  Our regular waiter was Lou and if he saw us come in, our order would already be in the works before we sat down.  We would do the crossword and listen in to all the conversations between the old guys that sat with us.  Those were probably my favorite Saturdays of all time. 

So the point here is to remember that food is what brings people together.  It makes people feel united.  It provides a moment of pause from the craze of our lives.  It is sometimes indulgent and fattening, but it always feeds the soul.  Sure, I would like to be thin again, but not at the cost of losing my love for the meal.  My theory: run more...lift weights...have a steak for dinner.