Book Notes: Delicious! by Ruth Reichl


Earlier this year, I swore to read a book a week over the course of 2014, a plan that failed spectacularly because, duh, I’m a slow reader who picks impossibly long books that couldn’t be finished inside of a week absent any semblance of a life or need for sleep. That said, I have read a LOT of books over the summer, including This Is Where I Leave You (LOVE — can’t wait for the movie!), Broken Harbor (LOVE), The Leftovers (ALSO LOVE), the Daughter of Smoke and Bone trilogy (LOVE, even though the author got a little up her own you-know-what in the final book), The Carriage House (DID NOT LOVE), Vampires in the Lemon Grove (MEHHHH, I am disappoint).

delicious

 

On our recent vacation to New Mexico, I devoured (to be clear: when I say “devour” as concerns this book, think of it as the literary equivalent of hate-f**king the fraternity brother who lives in your apartment building) Delicious! by Ruth Reichl. This is not a book that had been on my radar before a food-writing friend of mine alerted me (along with some other local food-writing women) to its existence and suggested that we get together and discuss it. So, I checked it out from the library and packed it along for the long drive to Santa Fe.

Let’s start with the good. We won’t be here long. I really like the way that Reichl drew a direct line from World War 2-era subsistence agriculture and foraging to contemporary notions of homesteading. Just like in Portlandia (“the dream of the 1890s is alive in Portland“), the dream of the 1940s is alive in Ohio … and Brooklyn, and Austin, and Omaha and so on. I also really appreciated when Reichl would demonstrate her deep knowledge of food, from the difference between winter and spring parmigiano to the various histories and uses of particular foods. That’s when her writing really sang in this novel; sadly, she would drop those lovely moments like hot potatoes in service to her hot mess of a narrative.

There is a LOT going on in this book. We’ve got the letters from a mysterious young woman to James Beard during WW2. We’ve got the death of an iconic food magazine (*cough*) and the obvious emotional trauma Reichl is working through via her surrogate(s) at said magazine. We’ve got the Underground Railroad, xenophobia against Italian-Americans, the post-WW2 “lavender scare,” and a mysterious back story and an obligatory love plot for Billie Breslin, the heroine. Reichl has embedded her novel with so many moving parts that she ends up under developing every single one of them, relying instead on tired tropes and stereotypes, down to the ugly-duckling-gets-a-makeover scene. Some people have suggested that Delicious! reads like a YA novel, but that would be an insult to YA fiction, much of which doesn’t insult its readership by telegraphing every plot development and tying up every single crappy narrative thread with an overwrought bow. 

Where was Reichl’s editor? Who was there to say, “Have you considered narrowing your focus a bit?” Or perhaps, “Have you considered fleshing out your characters a bit?” The love interest is so underwritten that Reichl might as well have just marched a cardboard cutout of Mr. Darcy into the scene for all the charisma he has.

And I’m not even mentioning the continuity and basic copyediting errors!

When my friends and I got together to discuss the book, we wondered whether it would have been published if it hadn’t had Reichl’s name on it. I seriously doubt it. I’m shocked it was published, period.

Next up: Delancey. I loved A Homemade Life, so Molly Wizenberg better not let me down!

 

Tansy #1 is complete!


Welp, it took me WAY longer than I’d anticipated (such is the way of the world when you’re teaching yourself graphic design AND a new program), but the first issue of TANSY is complete and ready to be shared with the world!!! This issue, based loosely on the theme of strawberries, contains some cool recipes (including a medieval recipe for stewed strawberries), flash fiction by my friend Jessi Cape, and ruminations on Strawberry Shortcake. Plus purity pictures, like this one: 

 

Photo by Lauren Walz

Photo by Lauren Walz

The zine is available in PDF ($2) and hard copy ($3.50). Leave a comment here if you’d like a copy and I’ll email you privately. Yay! 

Meal plan: Week of 8/24/14 (First week of school!)


 

Chicken yakisoba

Chicken yakisoba

It’s the first week of school! The BK starts fourth grade and the LK starts kinder, so big big BIG changes are afoot! The LK has a new collection of sassy dresses with animal prints, the BK has … a bunch of new Magic the Gathering cards, so we’re ready to rock! 

These nuggets started school today.

These nuggets started school today.

I figure, new school year = new energy to blog my meal plans, especially since we’re embarking on a new extracurricular regimen (fall baseball! ukelele lessons! gymnastics! painting! etc.!). As ever, I’m looking for a good balance of nutrition (so, veggie-forward), at least one vegetarian meal a week, Weight Watchers friendly for me, and yet still appeals to the kids. As such, here we go: 

Sunday: mac + cheese + chicken nuggets + grapes for the kids (per their request), passed apps dinner at Jacoby’s for the parents (by the way, we really liked Jacoby’s and will definitely be back for dinner, if not brunch and lunch. Think Contigo with southern comfort foods like pimento cheese, coconut cake with marshmallowy 7-minute frosting, and your East Texas grandma’s hobnail glass collection)

Monday: chicken yakisoba

Tuesday: shrimp + black bean tostadas

Wednesday: baked spinach and cheese ravioli + salad

Thursday: beef + broccoli, rice

Friday: dinner at our last Express game of the season

Saturday: pizza, maybe? 

What’s on your meal plan for the week?

Byte of Texas: The Inaugural Austin Food Blogger Alliance Conference


Next month, the Austin Food Blogger Alliance will hold its first-ever conference, Byte of Texas. This is a really, really big deal for a lot of reasons. Firstly, there isn’t an organization of food bloggers anything like what we’ve got going on with AFBA. In less than five years, this group has swelled to more than 150 members, has hosted several philanthropic events (including this summer’s Big Chill, benefiting Meals on Wheels), published a community cookbook, and is a powerhouse support system for writers and photographers who are passionate about food.

A sip of Texas (the Petey, my favorite cocktail at Salty Sow)

A sip of Texas (the Petey, my favorite cocktail at Salty Sow)

Thanks to the generosity of The Harvard Press and Bob’s Red Mill, the AFBA is able to offer conference scholarships for three lucky members. Here’s why I’d like to attend Byte of Texas:

  • It’s happening the weekend of my birthday, and any birthday weekend that involves thinking and talking and writing about food — not to mention eating good food — is a winning birthday weekend.
  • I’m excited to get inspiration for my blog, which tends to go fallow when I run out of ideas/time. (You may have noticed.)
  • Dinner at Salty Sow.
  • While the entire conference agenda is compelling, I’m particularly interested in the following panels:
    • conversation with Lisa Fain. I’ve long been a fan of Fain’s Homesick Texan blog, and was so happy to meet her at Foodways Texas this past spring (and to review her recent cookbook). She’s sort of become an ambassador for Texas food in the broader national conversation and for that I admire her.
    • Writing Texas Food Culture. Rachel Laudan is highly respected in these parts, and since my interests lie at the intersection of food and culture, this discussion has my name all over it.
    • Writing for Other Publications. I’m always looking for ideas and encouragement when it comes to pitching publications. We all have Achilles heels: pitching is mine.

So, there it is. Just the tip of the iceberg, really. And when you look at the agenda, you can see that there truly is something for everyone at this conference. Will I see you there?

Chef: More than just food


I was unable to attend the premiere screening of Chef at SXSW this year, much to my chagrin, so I’ve spent the ensuing two months on tenterhooks, waiting for it to open here in Austin (I was all set to see it when it opened in limited release on May 9, even going so far as to book a babysitter, but it didn’t open here until the 23rd).  So, once it opened here on the weekend, I got my butt in a seat as soon as was humanly possible. On the whole, I thought it was a very pleasant movie, if not a little formulaic. While many folks have mentioned the visceral delight of the food porn on display (which, frankly, I found a little distracting — Jon Favreau’s character makes this enormous, gorgeous meal alone in his apartment for no one, which made little sense to me. But it sure was pretty to look at!), I saw some other things going on as well, points of interest that I don’t think should be overlooked even though this film 100% capitalizes on this current food-obsessed cultural moment. _DSC9959.NEF There are very few things I find more delightful as a consumer of culture than watching Jon Favreau’s semi-autobiographical characters tear themselves down into a broken, ego-bruised mass, usually via an epic meltdown, then slowly rebuild from a place of abashed humility. The first time I saw Swingers, I couldn’t sit still while watching the answering machine scene; it made me so anxious, I was pacing back and forth in front of the TV saying, “no, no, please god no, don’t do that, just stop for the love of … he’s not going to stop, is he?” There is a similar meltdown in Chef, only his shame isn’t private — it’s viral. It’s through this mechanism that Favreau communicates his particular brand of vulnerability, one that provides a counterpoint to all the puffed-up masculinity on display in the rest of his celluloid life.

There’s no small amount of dick swinging in Chef, and the showdown between Carl Casper, whom we are to understand is a creative culinary mastermind, and Dustin Hoffman’s irascible, inflexible restaurant owner is but one particularly aggressive example. Carl’s banter with his loyal sous chef Martin (John Leguizamo) is simultaneously macho, semi-filthy, and respectful (the chemistry between the two actors is as refreshing as a watermelon paleta on a blazing summer’s day), and together they do the work of teaching Carl’s son, Percy (Emjay Anthony) the intricacies of being a man, from applying cornstarch to one’s “huevos” in humid climes to learning the hierarchy of the working world to the profound responsibility imbued in a chef’s knife. mmmmm And it’s that male-centric view that troubles this film. Typical of most Hollywood movies these days (I guess technically this is an indie? But it’s got Robert Downey Jr and Scarlett Johansson in it, so it can’t be THAT indie), there are women present, but only in relationship to the man and his needs. Por ejemplo, Johansson’s sultry sommelier serves only to warn Carl that the boss is coming, provide calm encouragement to spread his wings and fly, and moan lasciviously over a mouthful of pasta he’s prepared for her while she lounges on his bed. Inez (Sofia Vergara), Carl’s ex-wife, offers friendly support, encouragement, as well as gentle chiding when Carl lapses in his fatherly duties. As likable as Inez is, she’s something of a cypher. Why does she have that amazing house with the huge staff? Why does she have a publicist (brilliantly and skeevily played by Amy Sedaris)? We know nothing about Inez other than that she adores her son, clearly still cares deeply for Carl, and has a famous Cuban musician for a father. Put another way, the three women in the film are essentially there to reflect Carl back to himself in one way or another. (For a brilliant and devastating takedown of The Amazing Spider Man 2 along these same lines, check out Amanda Ann Klein’s “The Postfeminist Gift of Gwen Stacy [SPOILERS!!!])

In addition to the film’s “woman problem,” Favreau is blind to his economic privilege in telling this story. Despite the fact that Carl kvetches that he’s broke, he magically receives an apparently no-strings-attached truck from a Miami connection of Inez’s (she’s so useful like that!), then proceeds to max out his credit cards outfitting that truck to the tune of tens of thousands of dollars, not to mention secure the appropriate permitting in each city they visit on their drive from Miami to LA, have startup cash to purchase ingredients (and beer and cigars). Yes, it’s a feel-good story about implementing your own creative vision in the interest of living your best life, but it was extremely difficult for me to suspend my disbelief when it came to Carl’s overnight success as a food truck operator.

But there are things that I appreciate in the film, too. People of color in the movie aren’t depicted as comic relief, they are the main characters. And I think that’s particularly interesting considering the dominant discourse of celebrity chefs, which tends to privilege white males. I like that Cuban food is the link to Carl’s identity and reignites his creative fire without any anxiety about being Other, and I also like that in each city he visits, he effortlessly crafts a hybrid sandwich reflecting that city’s culture (po’boys and beignets in New Orleans, brisket sliders in Austin). He embraces an easy fusion, a subtle argument for food as the vehicle for inclusiveness.

I also loved the role of social media in the film, particularly as it concerns Percy. It’s through his son that Carl discovers the possibility of connection — and the destructive power — of social networking. Percy, a digital native, negotiates the truck’s viral marketing and is instrumental in his father’s success. It’s also the boy’s technological savvy that helps Carl connect to his son — just as Carl teaches Percy how to be a man, Percy teaches Carl how to get out of his head and be of the world. While I am uncomfortable with the idea of my own son, who is close to Percy’s age, being so comfortable with how to talk to people on the internet (I require my son to turn off the chat function when he plays Minecraft, and he will not have an email address, Twitter account, Instagram, Facebook, etc until he’s a few years older), Chef makes the argument that parents should learn to stop worrying and love the bomb, so to speak, because on the other side of that worry is true connection.

Ultimately, Chef is an enjoyable narrative of a man’s quest to rediscover his creative voice. The theme of pursuing your own vision in service to a professional endeavor resonated with me deeply. I laughed frequently and heartily, and drooled obediently on cue at the food porn scenes. I just wish that the women had been more than just set dressing while the men were busy learning from one another.

Meal plan: Week of 5/18/14 – 5/24/14


Welp, last week’s menu was a rousing success in terms of getting back on plan, so this week I’m letting it ride. I’m so close to my 5% goal I can taste it, and it tastes a lot like Garden Vegetable Soup. It’s also going to be warm this week, so I’m working more salads into the rotation.

Mmmm...cheesesteak

Mmmm…cheesesteak

Sunday: Cheesesteaks (can’t be a monk every night!)

Monday: BBQ Chicken salad

Tuesday: Rainbow peanut noodles (I’m making brownies for book group and am going to try very hard not to eat any)

Wednesday: turkey lettuce wraps

Thursday: chickpea & sausage minestrone (this might not happen, as the BK has baseball practice — he made the All-Stars team again this year — and the LK and I will go see Michael Pollan speak)

Friday: Almond, berry & chicken spinach salad

Saturday: Memorial Day weekend begins! Dinner TBD.

 

Call for Submissions: Tansy, a foodlore zine


 

Tansy, or golden buttons.

Tansy, or golden buttons.

I’ve started a new passion project, Tansy, a foodlore zine. Please consider contributing! I’ve already gotten some great submissions (and ideas for submissions). The more voices we have, the richer the story will be!

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS: Tansy, a new zine focused on representing people’s personal experiences with food, seeks submissions for its inaugural issue. Each quarterly issue will center on a specific food; we’re kicking things off with STRAWBERRY. Submit your memoirs, essays, fiction, poems, recipes, original line art/comics, photos (high resolution, please) to tansymag@gmail.com, along with a brief bio. Submission deadline is May 31, 2014. Please limit submissions to no more than 1500 words.

Meal plan: week of 5/11/14-5/17/14


 

soup

It’s bathing suit season, which means it’s zero-point veggie soup season. Because nothing inspires wolf whistles at the beach than a cabbage-bloated belly. Wooo-hooo!

Seriously, though, I’ve been back on Weight Watchers in earnest for about five months now and I’ve been on the threshold of my first goal (losing 5% of your starting weight) for weeks now. Lots of things derailed me — I didn’t track or exercise during SXSW, I had Foodways Texas, followed by the Austin Food & Wine Festival. I work out A LOT, but I’m also super sloppy in my tracking, going over my daily points allotment every day.

I’m really ready to get serious again with this partly because I’m paying to be a member every month, but also partly because this is the most progress I’ve made with weight loss since before I got married. (I lost 40 pounds back in 2003.) And it’s not so that I can look good in a bathing suit, but because I want to be healthy for a long, long time. I also am looking to clean up the family’s diet, especially because I’ve been letting too much sugary junk slip through the cracks and ends up sliding down my gullet. It’s better for the entire family’s health if I’m holding the line with healthy foods.

Along with having a vat of zero-point veggie soup on hand for afternoon snacks, I’m committed to weighing and measuring all of my portions and staying within my points target every day. No more borrowing from my slush fund of 49 weekly “extra” points, since I have no intentions of giving up my Saturday cheat day.

To that end, this week’s meal plan is carefully planned to speak to all of those concerns — cutting back on the sugar and junk, carefully measured on-plan portions, with a little wiggle room for wholesome treats.

Sunday: Build your own tostada night, with refried pinto beans, shredded chicken, cheese, veggies. The kids loved this.

Monday: Bacon and Shrimp Pasta Toss (10 points per serving); apple crisp for dessert

Tuesday: We’re going to a 6pm UT baseball game, so there will probably be sausage wraps or Frito pies or nachos or something (I’ll have a big helping of veggie soup during the LK’s dance class, which ends at 5:30)

Wednesday: Easy Crock Pot Chicken and Black Bean Taco Salad (7 points per serving)

Thursday: Edamame Salad with Crispy Steak Bits (7 points per serving)

Friday: Mom’s Spanish Chicken and Rice (9 points per serving)

Saturday: TBD. Not sure what we’ve got going on this weekend — maybe nothing, but that’s typically our dining out night.

What’s on your healthy eating plan for this week?

On cultural appropriation, “pioneering,” and Georgia Pellegrini


Those of you who’ve spent any amount of time in my presence sometime over the past two weeks know that I have Some Thoughts on Georgia Pellegrini. It has not been a particularly slow burn, though; I’d never heard of her before my sojourn at Foodways Texas back in March, right around the time Pellegrini’s newest book, Modern Pioneering, came out. When my friends showed me the cover of the book, my first question was, “what’s pioneering about a watermelon keg?”

cover

Now then, I’ve gone on record as being less-than-impressed with people who call themselves pioneers from a position of white privilege, and Pellegrini seems to be at the forefront of this next wave of privileged “pioneering” women. Like Ree Drummond, Pellegrini participates in spinning a romanticized angle in the house with her DIY domesticity, but raises the stakes through her narratives of hunting, killing, field dressing, and cooking her own food (particularly in her first lifestyle book, Girl Hunter). This lady is all about getting her hands bloody, and you know what? Good for her. I’m all for women who embrace self-sufficiency to that degree (I’ll go about as far as buying pork chops from the ones what raised the pigs at the farmers market). But when that self-sufficiency becomes a product, one that’s flogged on the backs of indigenous people, is where I part ways with Pellegrini, philosophically.

Maybe we should define our terms here. For Pellegrini, “pioneering” involves making lip scrubs out of raw cane sugar, cornmeal, and organic peppermint extract to combat the chapping effects of winter weather, stenciling one’s staircase, and the aforementioned watermelon keg. I suppose that’s trailblazing in some way or another, but as my fellow mom and wine-guzzling buddy said, “It’s like she went to goop University. I can’t imagine that her audience includes anyone over age 35.” In truth, Pellegrini has basically developed a lifestyle portal for women who want a little more personality to their Pinterest and who can afford a $2200 “adventure getaway” in Montana, during which Pellegrini will help them “unravel” while they’re up to their elbows in entrails.

To my mind, pioneering is a notion that’s heavily romanticized in American history. For me, it’s connected to Manifest Destiny and the subjugation of this country’s indigenous people as legislation like the Homestead and Dawes Acts institutionalized and legitimated the seizure of land and displacement of its rightful owners. I’ll quote myself from that Pioneer Woman post:

The pioneers (think Laura Ingalls) are romanticized icons of Western progress, fighting harsh weather, uncertain food supplies, and — worst of all — Indians (*gasp*) in order to realize the promise set forth by Manifest Destiny. The American Dream, while certainly accessible to and enacted by all Americans, is rooted in a rhetoric of whiteness. 

Today, there’s a movement among various American Indian tribes to recover and preserve their foodways, including gathering of edible plants and herbs, as well as improving nutrition and health on reservations. The federal dam system has encroached on native salmon fisheries to such a degree that several Pacific Northwest tribes have been deprived of a significant food source and cultural touchstone, not to mention untold environmental devastation. (More information.) At the same time, indigenous languages are dying out, kids in rez schools don’t have school supplies thanks to last year’s sequestration (I’m sure that won’t help close the achievement gap between American Indian kids and their white counterparts), and the unemployment rate for American Indians still hangs out at around 11%.

Ooooh, this is bad, you guys. Super bad. A Modern Pioneering-branded  Minnetonka Moccasins giveaway. Oy.

Ooooh, this is bad, you guys. Super bad. A Modern Pioneering-branded Minnetonka Moccasins giveaway. Oy.

So that’s why it really chapped my ass at the Austin Food & Wine Festival when I saw Georgia Pellegrini giving cooking demonstrations and participating in panels focused on “old-school cooking methods” while clad in fringed leather moccasins, an embroidered blue tunic lashed with a leather thong, and an Indian princess feather fascinator stuck in her expensively highlighted blonde hair.  I’ll explain more in a minute, but first I’m gonna pass the mic to Thomas King in this very short excerpt from his novel, Green Grass, Running Water (the title is a reference to the US government’s promise that indigenous people would retain the rights to their land “as long as the grass is green and the water runs”). The scene is the Dead Dog Cafe, in a Blackfoot community in Alberta, Canada:

One of the secrets of a successful restaurant was to keep things simple. Every day Rita cooked up the same beef stew, and every day Rita or Billy or Cynthia or Latisha thought up a name for it. It wasn’t cheating. Everybody in town and on the reserve who came to the Dead Dog Cafe to eat knew that the special rarely changed, and all the tourists who came through never knew it didn’t.
“Toilet’s working.” Billy let the door swing shut behind him. “You want me to change the gas on the dispensers?”
“No, get dressed. We may need help out front.”
“Plains, Southwest, or combination?”
The itch was more persistent. “What’d you do yesterday?”
“Plains.”
“Do Southwest.”
[...]
Latisha would like to have been able to take all the credit for transforming the Dead Dog from a nice local establishment with a loyal but small clientele to a nice local establishment with a loyal but small clientele and a tourist trap. But, in fact, it had been her auntie’s idea.
“Tell them it’s dog meat,” Norma had said. “Tourists like that kind of stuff.”
That had been the inspiration. Latisha printed up menus that featured such things as Dog du Jour, Houndburgers, Puppy Potpourri, Hot Dogs, Saint Bernard Swiss Melts, with Doggie Doos and Deep-Fried Puppy Whatnots for appetizers.
She got Will Horse Capture over in Medicine River to make up a bunch of photographs like those you see in the hunting and fishing magazines where a couple of white guys are standing over an elephant or holding up a lion’s head or stretching out a long stringer of fish or hoisting a brace of ducks in each hand. Only in these photographs, it was Indians and dogs. Latisha’s favorite was a photograph of four Indians on their buffalo runners chasing down a herd of Great Danes.

In this scene, King satirizes cultural tourism and cultural appropriation by having the First Nations staff of the Dead Dog Cafe don “uniforms” of “authentic” indigenous garb because they know that the visiting tourists won’t know the difference. Latisha and her employees exploit the stereotype for economic gain and subvert the entertainment value of their native-ness. They acknowledge their “Otherness” and use it to their advantage, with the (presumably white) tourists as the butt of the joke.

Georgia Pellegrini at the Austin Food & Wine Festival. Please forgive the blurriness. Not shown: fringed leather moccasins.

Georgia Pellegrini at the Austin Food & Wine Festival. Please forgive the blurriness. Not shown: fringed leather moccasins.

But when people like Georgia Pellegrini, a former Wall Street financier, affects American Indian dress in the process of marketing herself as a “modern pioneer” (who draws heavily, I imagine, on indigenous methodologies of hunting and gathering), it’s a problem. Using another culture’s clothing/customs as part of your “brand” is Not Okay. (I’m sure GP’s a very nice person; I have nothing against her personally, and it’s not like she put on a war bonnet and then acted shitty about it. But still.) When a member of the dominant group (in this case, a privileged white woman from an affluent hamlet in downstate New York, home of the Tappan tribe, who hunted, fished, trapped, and companion planted for food) appropriates or “borrows” attire and practices from groups that have been historically “Othered,” it distracts from the lived experiences of the people being borrowed from, perpetuating their “Other,” exotic status.

Having your $40/head book launch party on the “Wet Deck” at a luxury hotel downtown? I’m not sure where that fits into anyone’s definition of pioneering, unless it’s within the context of finding a place to park in Austin’s condo-blasted downtown hellscape.  But it certainly suggests a tone-deafness on someone’s part, to the tune of unexamined white privilege.

Meal plan: 5/4/14-5/10/14


The semester is over and, beyond fielding queries from students with questions about their final grades, I’m done teaching for now. (For the foreseeable future, really.) I’m now concentrating on writing and my postdoc, working on lots of exciting new projects and hoping to make something happen with my food-writing career.

I’ve been cooking a lot; partly because I’m reviewing some cookbooks, but also because I haven’t had much opportunity to spread my wings in the kitchen over the past several weeks. I have so many unfinished projects hanging over my head, I’m really relishing the short window of time I’ve got right now to get caught up on things domestic before summer madness starts.

To that end, I’ve been putting my cast iron skillet through its paces of late, as well as working through my aversion to cooking things in oil. Being raised by a lifelong Weight Watcher makes one skittish about frying things, but I’ve been trying to relax in that regard a bit. Everything in moderation, right?

I’ve got lots of things to say here in the coming weeks and months. But for now, here’s a meal plan.

Image

crispy chicken thighs

Sunday: wiener schnitzel (technically, schweineschnitzel because I don’t eat veal), mac and cheese, steamed broccoli, because nothing says “bathing suit season” like breaded, fried pork cutlets and rich, creamy, fat-drenched pasta.

Monday: chicken spaghetti, salad

Tuesday: I went to the Women Behind the Wheels class at Antonelli’s; the kids had mac and cheese and hot dogs and Matt had leftovers.

Wednesday: crispy chicken thighs, salad, crusty bread and Mt. Tam

Thursday: catfish tacos

Friday: roasted cauliflower tacos

Saturday: I’m hoping we’ll go grab some pizza from Sauced and help them stay open.

What are y’all eating this week?

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