Not Starkist Salad. Eat groovy. Save a tuna. |
The older I get the more I crave simple. You know what I'm talking about. Home cooking. Childhood classics- like tuna salad. Instead of getting all worldly and sophisticated and dabbling with truffle oil, with each new gray hair my taste is hula hooping into kid-friendly food faster than Marisa Tomei can waggle. Well, maybe not that fast. She is pretty nimble. But you get my drift. I'm whipping up peanut butter and banana sandwiches, not oysters Rockefeller. Actually, I wouldn't know an oyster Rockefeller if it bit me in the tuchas. Filet Mignon (would you believe I've never had it?) doesn't even tempt me, Darling. And Chicken Cordon Bleu vs Chicken Kiev?
Okay. It is here where I confess that I'm no Betty Crocker and I've never attempted either recipe. Most likely because I was never what you'd call a big meat eater. I went vegetarian at age thirteen. If I've dabbled at all in the culinary arts it's been because of Anna Thomas and not Julia Child. The first cookbook I ever bought was The Vegetarian Epicure. That was 1972- the first time I ever made soup from scratch, thanks to Anna.
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