Food – Cynthia Reyes

Witless Wednesday

March 1, 2017March 2, 2017 Cynthia Reyes

Did I tell you about….

… that time I went on a diet, and got a nasty surprise?

It happened around this time last year – Ash Wednesday, the start of the 40-day period of Lent, a time of sacrifice and reflection.

I reflected, decided, and said to myself: “Self, let us agree that, this Lent, we will give up any food that is not healthful.”

Self wholeheartedly agreed.

Self is always up for a good-sounding plan. And this one sounded positively virtuous.

Over the next several weeks, my grocery list consisted primarily of healthful stuff like the following:

Oats, Bananas, Pears and Berries
Pecans and Walnuts
Coconut everything and Quinoa everything
Cabbage, Zucchini, Green Beans, Spinach
Fish – especially Salmon or Trout
Beets, Avocado and Sweet Potato.

blog-photo-recipe-sweet-potatoes-sliced

I felt great. In fact, I felt quite saintly about it, since almost every item was a ‘super-food’.

Then came an ominous sign.

Things started shrinking.

The waist of my jeans shrank. Then my skirt. Then my other jeans too.

I was flabbergasted.

Just to be sure, I weighed myself.

I’d gained 6 pounds.

“I don’t understand!” I wailed to my daughter. “I’ve been on a health-food diet!”

“Mom”, she said, in that deliberately patient voice one uses to a 5 year old who stamps her feet and refuses to understand. “It’s not enough to eat super-foods. It’s also a matter of portion control.”

“Portion control?” I sputtered.

“Yes, Mom.”

Portion control… I wrinkled my nose and screwed up my face and stared at her, willing her to retract those words. No luck.

“Are you saying I didn’t ….”

“I’m saying you ate too much avocado, Mom. And sweet potato. And quinoa. And other stuff too.”

Shoot.

Photo Credit: John Garside

A Good Home, Cake, Dessert, Food, Poetry

The Hungry Philosopher

January 2, 2015 Cynthia Reyes

At dinner that evening, I asked a man

Who had taken three pieces of cake

One after the other

Though he paused before the last

Photo by Simply Splendid Victorian Afternoon Tea

And looked straight at me across the table

As if seeking a stranger’s approval

Then dug right in

With an almost-grunt of satisfaction

“What happened?” I asked him, curious,

“At that very last moment

Just before

You gave in to temptation?”

He smiled at the crumbs on his plate

Then looked at me and said:

“You tell yourself

That it won’t be that bad, not really

That’s what you tell yourself.

It is, after all, such a little thing

A small piece of nothing

That you’ll make up for later.”

Jamaican Christmas Cake - Google Images — Jamaican Christmas Cake – Google Images

The hungry philosopher smiled again

But sadly now, at his plate

Regretful, yes

And something else, perhaps

A bit of shame caused by a stranger

Who spoke

When she should have stayed quiet

And let the man enjoy his cake.

Dedicated to everyone who knows when to keep their mouth shut.

A Good Home, Afternoon Tea, Friendship, Gardens, Joyful Moments, July Garden, Kindness, Nature, Ontario, Outdoor Living, Red currants, Relationships, Summer Garden, Vegetable Garden, Vegetables

Food, Friends, Verandah

August 24, 2014August 26, 2014 Cynthia Reyes

Everybody was complaining about summer.

Not me.

After a painful several months – much of it spent in bed – I welcomed the summer by taking to the verandah.

Colourful cushions, simple wood furniture and time-worn rugs created a homey feel.

A verandah is a place for serious summer reading….

Or some serious hanging out….

In the nearby garden, sometimes it rained and hailed and the wind was crazy.

But flowers bloomed everywhere.

Birds sang.

The air was fresh.

Family and friends came to visit.

Some invited themselves, which I loved.

“How are you coping these days?”

“I’ve taken to the verandah,” I replied.

“I’m coming to visit!”

It was the summer of the verandah. Of kindness and affection. Laughter and quiet moments.

My editor Tim, returning home to South Africa, spent most of his last week in Canada with our family. He held court on the verandah like an eminence grise, saying wise, cryptic and funny things to everyone.

Some people wondered how he’d handle returning to a country which he left decades ago. Tim’s enigmatic reply: “Did I mention I’ll have the use of a heated swimming pool?”

“Long way to go for a heated swimming pool,” we laughed.

Of course, one should always feed one’s visitors. Despite one’s lack of cooking talent.

“You are the best cook I’ve ever met,” Tim declared, straight-faced, to loud laughter.

I swatted him with my dinner napkin. He complained – theatrically – of “the abuses I suffer in your home”.

We alternated between joking, serious talk and companionable silence. If tears were hovering, we didn’t let them show. This man has been a stalwart friend to me through life’s challenging times and I shall miss him.

Marilyn visited next. Marilyn’s the doyenne of tea (See Simply Splendid Victorian Afternoon Teas.) She kindly admired my floral arrangement and I wisely served a cold lunch… no cooking required.

“I caught that salmon, smoked it and sliced it,” I lied.

“Well done,” she praised, playing along.

Seriously, though: the lettuce, tomatoes and red currants came from our garden.

Longtime friend Dale arrived late one night, on her way back home from visiting family out west. I made breakfast, the only thing I cook consistently well, and we caught up on family news.

Marie, who lives way up north, took an evening break from her role in an important cross-country hearing. My husband cooked supper that day, as he did for my childhood friend, Angela and her family. Wonderful occasions.

Jacqui dropped in and lucked into one of the nicest dishes I made this summer.