Okay, the honey, but that's about it.
|(for the record, in addition to the honey: organic unsweetened soy milk, |
flaxseed meal, vanilla bean, almond butter and raw cashews)
The Me of Twenty Years ago had never grown a garden or been to a farmer's market or visited a Whole Foods. (Did Whole Food exist?) I felt guilty about feeding my kids chicken nuggets and Kraft Mac and Cheese, but not so guilty that I quit feeding them chicken nuggets and Kraft Mac and Cheese. (In my defense, I also served them fruit occasionally and as soon as I heard about the dangers of high fructose corn syrup, I never let it into my house again, except in the form of Mrs. Butterworth's.)
What does all of this have to do with Hemingway?
Nothing, except that I just finished reading his memoir A Moveable Feast, a book I'd somehow managed to skip reading over the years even though I like Hemingway's novels and when I was in Key West, I visited his house with all of the six-finger-pawed cats roaming around.
Fun fact that I did not know until I read A Moveable Feast:
it is not about food.
I don't think that Hemingway would recognize many of the items in my grocery bag either.
But then he didn't watch the documentary my husband made me watch last week called What the Health. I am not recommending that you watch this movie unless you plan to seriously overhaul your diet. Let's just say that until I watched this movie I loved cheese. A lot. And now--
I am having a hard time loving cheese.
Okay, I just looked at a few articles criticizing some of the statistics in What the Health and now I feel slightly better about my awful parenting food choices twenty years ago and my newly acquired horror of cheese.
So tonight I will take a more balanced nutritional approach, something I will call Hemingwayterian:
It calls for a colorful plate of tofu and veggies.
And a large glass of wine.