I’m involved as a co-writer and mime in The Mirror Street Theatre Reunion show on August 19, 2023, from 5:00 p.m. to 7:00 p.m. at Sooner Theatre, Norman, OK. All of the cast and crew have been working hard to bring our audience a fun, family-friendly show, and the public is invited to attend. Please indulge the shameless self-promotion, and scan the QR code below for more information.

DW, one of the co-producers, is putting together the screens we need as backdrops during various skits. Those of us performing in the show as mimes needed a backdrop of a ballet rehearsal room, and the room needed to have barres and mirrors. DW asked me if I had anything he could use.

In 1978, when Mirror Street Theatre (MST) began, we mimes used to go to the ballet building at a certain university. This place shall remain unnamed in case we accidentally were violating a trespass law, but most likely not because two members of our mime troupe were majoring in dance at said university. Besides, surely the statute of limitations would have run by now. One of the dance majors is the mime that is pointing in the photo below.

We would then use any vacant rehearsal rooms available, with the mirrors helping to ensure that what we were doing came off as intended.

Although the ballet studios are now in a different building at the university, I knew they had rehearsal rooms with mirrors because the local choir I’m in had rehearsed with dancers in that room for the presentation of Carmen Burana.

I wanted to take photos of that rehearsal room for DW to use, but the door to that room was locked. I took a picture of the room through a hallway window, but that was not successful for use. For some reason, I felt like if a real dancer or employee in that building saw what I was doing, I might be stopped, maybe even arrested.

I began to case the joint (crime lingo may be appropriate here). On the second floor, I came to a section that was undergoing construction, which I thought might be a good option for an area to find open rehearsal rooms. I took two steps into the area to continue the search, and that’s when I realized my feet were now stuck to a glue-like substance lining the floor. I had probably stepped onto an acrylic adhesive used before putting down a hardwood floor.

https://ehardwoodsandflooring.com/blogs/news/comparing-different-types-of-flooring-adhesives#:~:text=Acrylic%20adhesives%20are%20resin%2Dbased,%2C%20and%20are%20moisture%2Dresistant.

I had to use all my strength to pull away the first foot I had placed on the floor. Then, I had to stretch to place the foot behind me on the non-sticky area. I was close to doing the splits now, which I have never been able to do on purpose. My legs could feel the stretch.

Then, while precariously balanced, I had to pull my other foot off the floor, fearing that I was going to fall over backward from the amount of effort necessary to accomplish this feat. I was fortunate to escape unharmed.

Before a security guard could show up to toss me out of the building, I decided to go on the lam, toot suite. After I was out of the construction zone, however, every time I put my foot down on the regular floors, they stuck due to the adhesive now on the bottom of my shoes. When I pulled them up, there was an incredibly loud splat-squish sound. Yikes! I couldn’t just tiptoe out of there, nor could I leave quickly. My entire exit was both tacky (distasteful) and tacky (clingy).

I met some friends for lunch, where I was greeted by Lady Liberty. After coming from a place where I was temporarily stuck, I was happy to see a reminder of my freedom.

Previously, Lady Liberty had shared a Coke with me while she was holding a hamburger.

This fun memory was a good reason to order a vegan burger from the menu.

On top of that, my Impossible burger came with unlimited fries. I have an addiction to potatoes (I blame the nicotine contained in all nightshade plants), plus I adhere to a strict “No Fries Left Behind” policy, so this was heavenly. Best of all, I was free!

TRIVIA QUESTION: Where is the Statue of Liberty located? The Statue of Liberty is on Liberty Island, which is federal property administered by the National Park Service. While the statute is located closer to New Jersey, a pact between New York and New Jersey, ratified by Congress in 1834, declared that Lady Liberty is located within the territorial jurisdiction of the State of New York.

https://www.nps.gov/stli/planyourvisit/get-the-facts.htm#:~:text=Is%20the%20Statue%20in%20New,in%201834%2C%20declared%20this%20issue.

For the record, DW found a wonderful backdrop of a ballet studio that has barres and mirrors. You can see it if you attend the show. Thanks, DW!

I have nothing against Brussels, Belgium, and I have nothing against other sprouts. I love broccoli and cauliflower.

People who love Brussels sprouts are always telling me that they are delicious, then wanting me to try them. One person who had ordered fried Brussels sprouts at a restaurant insisted that I try them cooked in that manner, and then I would love them. I did not withstand the onslaught of everyone at the table not only goading me to taste a Brussels sprout but also assuring me that I would enjoy it. I tasted it, but I did not enjoy it at all.

There is an article written by James Lloyd for Science Focus titled, “Why do some people hate Brussels sprouts?” The answer is, “A 2011 study by Cornwall College found that sprouts contain a chemical, similar to phenylthiocarbamide, which only tastes bitter to people who have a variation of a certain gene. The research found that around 50 percent of the world’s population have a mutation on this gene.”

https://www.sciencefocus.com/the-human-body/why-do-some-people-hate-brussels-sprouts/

Maybe, I need to start carrying Mr. Lloyd’s article around with me as proof to stop people from offering me Brussels sprouts. Or maybe, I just need to be courageous enough to say that there are offers that I can refuse.

I am not an adult, however, when it comes to eating choices. The adult in me reminds me that bad choices may be the death of me, literally. I always think of my daughter’s 2nd-grade teacher who constantly said to students, “Make good choices.” Even so, the childish ‘I-want-to-eat-what-I-want’ side of me pays no attention to the adult side of me that favors healthy choices.

Recently, I had retinal eye surgery scheduled. Under the doctor’s orders I was given ahead of time for post-surgery, I would not be allowed to bend over, lift any objects weighing more than five pounds, sleep any way other than on my side, drive an automobile, or engage in exercise for the next ten days. I like to look at the bright side always, so this was my perfect doctor-mandated excuse for lounging around.

I also bought easy-to-eat food so as not to have to bother with cooking after the surgery. I bought a box of Equate Nutritional Shakes as a meal replacement. This seemed like a good idea at the time, especially because I chose chocolate-flavored.

Once I was back home after surgery, I opened a chocolate Equate for dinner.

The chocolate taste was fine. Despite the label declaration of “Hunger Savvy,” I was still hungry after downing the shake. I waited for a while but no satisfaction from the shake kicked in. Then, I made the terrible decision to eat some malted milk balls for dinner.

I’m not saying the product was terrible. Far from it. Whoppers are delicious! But if Cookie Monster taught us anything, it’s that desserts are supposed to be ‘sometimes’ foods, not a second dinner after drinking a meal replacement shake.

I took a different tactic the next night. I opened a ‘Healthy Choice’ power bowl. ‘Healthy’ is right there in the title. I enjoyed the meal. Score a point for adult me.

I watch a lot of cooking shows. On Chopped, the judges always rail against contestants who try to cook risotto in the allotted time. The judges say that is not enough time to get the creamy texture of the dish. According to the judges, a creamy texture is essential to risotto.

I had never tried risotto, but I had some microwavable risotto in the freezer. I tried it but did not like it at all. The texture was too mushy. Maybe, microwavable risotto is not the way to go. I’ll have to give risotto another chance in a restaurant.

Of course, you can’t strike gold every time, even when it comes to what you eat for dinner. I called on my inner adult to keep me from turning to chocolate after having mush for dinner. The inner child won, but the adult was looking over the inner child’s shoulder. I ate a few cookies, but I didn’t eat the entire pack, only the recommended serving amount of two cookies. Of course, the fact that only two cookies were left in the bag certainly helped.

Now, please enjoy the anonymous meme below. I love the humor in it, but I’m not sad. I just love dessert.

I was in the mood for something often classified as junk food. Truth: I’m pretty much always in that mood. So, I had a meal of Lightlife Vegan hot dogs, baked potato chips, and corn on the cob.

In the photo above, you can see what my daughter, as a child, always called “stick-up” butter. She always asked her grandmother for popcorn with stick-up butter. She asked me for toast with stick-up butter. Any time butter was involved, she wanted stick-up butter.

I don’t think my daughter would have approved of my meal, though, even though there is stick-up butter on the corn. Her dietary standards are much higher than mine.

If anyone knows why corn on the cob tastes so much better than cut-off corn, please tell me. I was once on a dinner date and received corn on the cob with my meal. As I was enjoying the corn, my date said to me, “I never realized how big your mouth was until I saw you eating corn on the cob.” Ouch! I now eat corn on the cob only in the privacy of my own home. Just kidding! I’m not that vain. If so, I wouldn’t post the photo below.

Corn is delicious, but it isn’t great as a vegetable. Corn has more sugar than vitamins. To see why corn is not that great for you, read:

https://www.myrecipes.com/healthy-diet/unhealthy-fruits-and-vegetables#:~:text=Yes%2C%20corn%20is%20a%20vegetable,regular%20and%20lowers%20blood%20cholesterol).

I don’t crave a Smart Dog every day, of course. In fact, I get that craving perhaps once a year. The problem is that you have to buy an entire package. I had hot dogs for quite a few meals. I didn’t need one again for a long time after I finally finished them.

Lo and behold, hot dogs showed up again in my life just a few days after I finished the Smart Dogs. I went to play Bingo. (My personal checklist to remind me that I am old is: 1) I went on a cruise; 2) I had cataract surgery; 3) I learned how to play Mahjong. Now, I have to add a fourth: 4) I went to play Bingo).

Dinner was included with Bingo, so guess what was being served? Hot dogs! There were no Smart Dogs in sight. I pivoted. I turned my hot dog into a cheese sandwich (good thing I’m flexitarian and not vegan).

My sandwich was tasty! I went to a tea party recently. One lady there (who was not the host) had Celiac disease, so she needed to eat gluten-free food. She brought her own food. Ironically, she had lived in Hong Kong for years. She said that in Hong Kong, you were always expected to eat the food that was set before you and not ask what it was. Otherwise, you would be considered rude. (I don’t know if this is true or not; I’m just repeating what she said).

Is it okay to bring your own food to an event that you are not hosting? Please let me know what you think in the comments.

Anyway, I discovered that Bingo is fun. I liked the sleepy monotony of crossing off letters and numbers combined with the always-present excitement over the possibility of winning. This was certainly a weird combination. Better yet, I actually got a Bingo!

“It’s Un-Belize-able!”

In Belize, we went to a spice farm, then toured some ancient ruins.

At the cafe afterwards, I had a chocolate bar that was deliciously un-Belieze-able!

Even the days and nights at sea were relaxing, when I sat on the balcony and stared out at the gentle, rolling waves of the ocean. Of course, this was sometimes ruined by some people nearby illegally smoking out on their balcony. According to https://www.lwmcruiseinjurylawyers.com/how-to-stay-safe-during-a-cruise-ship-fire/#:~:text=But%20while%20it%20may%20seem%20paradoxical%2C%20fire%20is,rooms%20can%20add%20to%20the%20panic%20and%20confusion:

• Fire is a one of the most serious risks onboard a cruise ship. Any enclosed area with a high volume of people becomes dangerous during a fire, which makes cruise ships one of the worst places for a fire emergency. Nervous crowds, long hallways, and rows of similar-looking rooms can add to the panic and confusion. Because of this, cruise ship fires can spread quickly and easily cause disaster.

Fortunately, the cruise never caught on fire, and all the trip (minus the illegal smokers) was enjoyable. I loved snorkeling in Roatan, shopping in Costa Maya, and enjoying the beach in Cozumel.

What I like to talk about in this blog, though, is food. Every meal started with generous and delicious bread servings.

Then, there was always an array of appetizers to choose from. The appetizers were so, well, appetizing that I often forgot to take photos of them. I did take photos of the hummus, the appetizer biscuit, and the vegetable spring rolls, though.

The salads were fun, or whoever says that about a salad? I guess people who go on cruise ships say this. The Caprese salad (while not vegan, of course) was a favorite of this Flexitarian. I certainly flexed my options on this trip.

A plate of spaghetti was a wonderful meal in an Italian restaurant. I also enjoyed the beans, rice, and cornbread in another restaurant, too.

A cruise is all about indulgences, so I went with the flow and enjoyed numerous desserts after dinner each night, including a tasty German Chocolate Cake that was given to me for my birthday (March 5th).

The indulgences didn’t stop on the cruise. Once I was back on land in New Orleans, I had the hickory coffee and the delectable beignets at Cafe Du Monde. After all, a trip to New Orleans wouldn’t be complete without these special treats. Everything was delightful, and I usually don’t even drink coffee!

I hope you enjoyed your Travel by Tastes with me in this blog. Now that I am safely back at home, I need to stop eating so much sugar (and bread and other stuff) and start exercising again. Of course, the liner I was on was so big, that I had no trouble getting lots of steps in each day, but not enough to make up for all the indulgences.

Please let me know what you think in the comments. Also, please let me know if you have any cruise and/or special taste experiences. I love hearing from you!

Clearly, the saying is meant to indicate that what first attracts us to food is the way it looks. I saw a dessert so pretty that I was determined to try to create it by following the recipe. Unfortunately, that doesn’t always work for me.

The photo I saw was of rose apple tarts. I don’t know what made me think I had the skill to pull these off. Yet, I had to try. I never let a simple thing like lack of high manual dexterity stop me.

The dessert was supposed to look like a rose, but somehow my version turned out to look like deranged hot dogs. Yes, yes, I know that hot dogs are inanimate objects, so they cannot truly be deranged. But, if they could, I also now know what that would look like. Ugh!

I found out that I had sliced the apples way too thick. See the photos of my failure below. The top photo is the beauty of what a rose tart is supposed to look like. Isn’t it pretty? The bottom photo is what my effort looked like. See a difference?

The odd thing about this cooking disaster was that my version actually tasted pretty good, and it probably would have tasted even better if I had closed my eyes to take a bite. Maybe, I should always wear a sleeping mask, dark sunglasses, or patches over my eyes before I eat my own cooking. You might consider doing the same if you ever eat any food item I have prepared.

Do you have any stories about your cooking tasting better than it looked? As always, I’d love to hear from you in the comments section.

Exhibit A:

Acrylamide, a chemical in burned food, has caused cancer in lab rats. https://www.fda.gov/food/chemical-contaminants-food/acrylamide. That’s no problem for my burned cooking. Not even rats would be so stupid as to eat the burned disasters that arise from my cooking. No humans, pets, or wild animals are harmed in the burned whatever-it-is from my kitchen on any given day.

Like the old joke about how time is saved by throwing lettuce directly into the trash when you bring it home from the grocery store, perhaps any ingredients I buy for an entree should also go directly into the trash.

I could never do that, though. I like to be a good steward of my money, and groceries cost money. Of course, I like to think there’s more graciousness in my spending than what is represented when Elaine told George in the Seinfeld episode “Truth” (written by Elaine Pope) that he was “extremely careful with money.”

Even if I am a good steward of my money, that all flies out the window when cooking an entree is involved.

When the vegans lived here, they always cooked, and they were excellent cooks. All I had to do was eat the food that was served. I liked that part. Who wouldn’t? Besides, I was Biblical in this sense. After all, 1 Corinthians 10:27 states, “Whatsoever is set before you, eat, asking no questions for conscience sake.”

As happy and grateful as I was to have vegan meals presented to me, I desperately missed cheese. I could have had cheese while the vegans were here. They put no restrictions on my diet. I ate as a vegan out of respect for their veganism. To stop sounding a little too self-righteous, I confess that this was also because I’m a little bit lazy about and definitely bad at cooking for myself.

The vegans, with my blessing, took over my kitchen. They put all the staples, like flour, cane sugar, powdered sugar, and brown sugar into clear, glass jars with secure tops. They ditched the hodge-podge method of shelving foods that I used. They arranged everything logically in the cabinets instead. I’ll accept those good vibes any day.

[SIDEBAR: When my daughter was little and went to the store with me, she always asked, “Can I be the replacer?” She liked to pick up everything one at a time that I had thrown haphazardly into the basket, then “replace” each of the items into a rational order in the basket].

Once the vegans were no longer within 1,000 miles of my house, I went cheese crazy. Yes, CHEESE CRAZY!

I decided to cook one of my favorite cheese-based dishes, Swiss Cheese Fondue. I got the recipe from my best friend, Mardi (Pittsburgh category), a recipe she had learned in Home Economics in junior high school.

[Sidebar: Mardi is a great cook and lots of fun, and she also looks like Ingrid Bergman, so much so that I once featured her as the cover model on a magazine when I was the editor and layout designer. When Mardi and I would go places together, people would tell her, “You look like Ingrid Bergman.” I’d be told, “You look like Mick Jagger.” Mardi was compared to one of the most beautiful women in the world, and I got Mick Jagger. Sure, he is one of the greatest rock stars of all time and a fine-looking man, but that same look doesn’t work so well on me].

To make the Swiss Cheese Fondue, I gathered all the ingredients (using some vegetarian substitutes), then went to work. The actual recipe is:

• Dissolve 1 bouillon cube into a cup of boiling water. Melt 3 tablespoons of butter [or vegetarian “butter”] over a low fire, then add 3 tablespoons of flour, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and a dash of pepper. Stir into a smooth paste. Gradually stir in the bouillon and 1 cup of milk [or vegan “milk”], then stir until smooth and thick. Add an 8-ounce package of Swiss Cheese (which has been cut into strips). Stir until the cheese is melted, then serve with French bread.

First, when I stirred the butter and flour together, the smooth paste never really happened. I proceeded anyway. Instead of using chicken bouillon, I used a large dollop of Vegetarian Mushroom Base Better Than Bouillon [BTB].

Then, I added Unsweetened Almond Milk. I stirred forever, but “smooth and thick” never occurred. I tried to remedy this by adding more flour, but there was nothing smooth and thick anywhere in sight. I kept adding more and more flour to try to thicken, but all I got was a liquid. I added the cheese, but still no thickening took place.

I had made Swiss Cheese Fondue before, and it had turned out perfectly. This time, even the color was wrong. The fondue is supposed to be the color of Swiss cheese. My concoction was the color of caramel.

I steeled myself to eat this mess anyway. As soon as I tasted it, sweetness engulfed my mouth. Aah! I immediately thought that my substitution for the bouillon was the problem. I should have known better than to have used the BTB, which apparently wasn’t better than bouillon at all. BTB had far too much of a sugary taste. That had to be the problem.

I completely blamed the BTB, but when I was putting away the flour, I realized I had falsely accused the BTB. What I thought was flour was actually white cane sugar. I had kept adding sugar to the mess to try to get it to thicken! No wonder the result was an extra-sweet (in fact, sickeningly sweet) taste. Instead of blaming the BTB, I should have blamed myself, the usual culprit. Mea culpa, and I apologize to the BTB. BTB will you ever forgive me?

Like so much of my cooking, the gross, sugary, unpalatable [feel free to add any negative adjective here] Swiss Cheese Fondue had to go straight into the trash. But I was determined to make Swiss Cheese Fondue a few days later (but with the called-for flour instead of never-an-ingredient sugar), and the result was delicious!

Perhaps, I would be a good steward of my money if I bought some labels for all of the jarred staples to prevent substitution of sugar for flour or vice versa. Have you been through any food mishaps? If so, let me know in the comments. Surely, I can’t be the only one. Or maybe I am.

• Me: Jamie, I can’t make you any soup. The microwave is broken.

• Jamie (in a forceful and instructive voice): Mom! You get a pan. You put it on the stove. You open the soup with a can opener. You pour the soup into the pan. You heat it up.

My five-year old daughter was right, temporarily smarter than the adult in the room (or perhaps more than temporarily). Fortunately for Jamie, she grew up to be an excellent cook. She always says that she learned to cook in self-defense to my cooking. Recently, she was even offered a job as a personal chef in exchange for rent in NYC. Have I mentioned previously that we are nothing alike?

[Warning: Sidebar of a Mom brag. My daughter returned to NYC to work during fashion week, then stayed. She also made costumes for Some Like It Hot, which opens on Broadway at the Shubert Theatre on November 1, 2022, with the official Broadway opening on December 11, 2022. Now, she is making costumes for Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Bad Cinderella, as well as costumes for a gangster movie with Robert DeNiro and Debra Messing. She and Debra Messing have the exact same waist size, so she is also the fit model for Messing’s clothing for the film. My daughter doesn’t read this. She would be mortified if she knew I was blabbing and posting photos of her.

End of sidebar].

Despite my daughter being able to cook much better than I do (although that’s a low bar), there is one simple soup that even I can pull off without the use of a microwave and with only a semblance of a recipe, and that is potato soup.

This was a soup that my mother used to make. I never noticed until much later the sheer economy of this soup, which is why potato soup always showed up on our menu when there were still a few days left until my dad got his next paycheck.

My little brother used to call all the soups Mom made “Group Soup.” This was because there was always a huge pan full of the soup, which was enough to feed all the people who were always at our house. The fact that everyone, both relatives and neighbors, spent a lot of time in my childhood home inspired the name of my memoir about Mom, titled Ours was the House

I am incapable of making less than a large quantity size of potato soup. Thus, the morning after I had made a delicious batch of potato soup for dinner, there was still plenty of soup left. I filled a thermos with this leftover potato soup for Jamie to take in her lunch. This single maternal act of providing my daughter’s lunch caused a dramatic disturbance in the elementary school cafeteria, a disruption so intense that it became known as Thermosgate. Jamie relayed the details of the incident to me when she came home from school that day.

When Jamie opened her thermos at the lunch table, a revolting, foul, and offensive stench emanated throughout the entire room. The fetid smell was met with a collective, “Ewwww!” from all the children, and some similar expressions of disgust from the teachers and cafeteria workers. No doubt, even critters in the woods behind the school had reactions to the horror.

Then, chaos reigned, with questions being asked and excited statements being made by everyone. The children shouted, “What is that? Jamie, what exactly did you have in that thermos? Ms. Green, do we need to evacuate the cafeteria? Are we going to die? Is school over for the rest of the year? Can I call my parents? I think my nose is bleeding. I can’t breathe. Call the doctor. Is Jamie going to be arrested? Is the fire department coming?”

Teachers said things like, “We need to open the windows. That smell is awful! Jamie, what does your mom feed you? Should we call the fire department?”

A cafeteria worker, reflecting the best sense of anyone present, suggested that all diners move into the gym for lunch. At least, she offered a solution while everyone else was just noting that the sky was falling (or, literally, that the odor was overwhelming). It was too cold to go outside, so the gym was the answer.

I like to think that the oxidation visited upon the soup once the thermos was opened caused the disgusting scent. Realistically, however, even though the potatoes in the soup were delicious the day before, they had probably turned rotten by the time Jamie was ready to eat lunch. This created noxious vapors, especially because the potatoes had been mixed with milk, a dairy product. Jamie was smart enough not to eat the soup.

https://foodboxhq.com/blog/how-to-tell-if-potatoes-have-gone-bad/

Children are funny. Although they first blamed Jamie for the fiasco because she had brought the soup in the thermos, their minds changed around when they realized that Jamie was the cause of something novel happening. Instead of Thermosgate ruining the entirety of elementary school for Jamie, the students were now thrilled to have the unusual act of going to the gym for lunch brighten their day. Thus, this increased (instead of decreased) Jamie’s popularity.

For the record, the thermos and its content were thrown away.

Anyway, if you use good potatoes and have not been thoroughly disgusted by the frightening tale of Thermosgate, here’s the recipe. Start to boil water. Peel and then quarter non-rotten potatoes. Throw onions and the potatoes in the soup pot. (I use the pre-chopped frozen onions). When the water returns to a boil, continue cooking until the potatoes are soft enough to cut with a spoon. Add butter (just throw some in), then add milk into the mixture until the water turns white. Heat until the butter is melted, then enjoy. I like to add a lid full of vinegar to my soup. To make this vegan, just use Smart Butter and Almond Milk.

I make the lazy style of potato soup. What my daughter makes as potato soup is even tastier. In addition to the basic recipe, she adds garlic, washed leeks, celery, chili powder, turmeric, mushrooms and white pepper. She uses coconut milk, and once the potatoes are softened, she adds frozen peas, then cooks until everything is heated.

The moral of this story is to be careful what you put into a thermos. Have you had any disasters that are related to using a thermos?

When I read this, I laughed so hard, plus I saved the completed project. What can I say? It’s (mostly) true.

Once, during the morning weekday rush, I quickly made what I thought was cinnamon toast and gave it Jamie for breakfast, who was then in first grade. As I rushed to finish getting ready for work, Jamie said, “Mom, this toast doesn’t taste right.” I came close to telling her just to eat it anyway. Fortunately, I investigated instead. That’s when I realized I had sprinkled the toast with seasoning salt instead of the cinnamon-sugar mixture. No wonder it didn’t taste right. She ate a pre-made Pop-tart for breakfast instead.

When Jamie was in second grade, I decided to make treats for the October costume party. (FYI, some incredibly conservative parents had successfully lobbied the school that the costume event could not be called Halloween. Personally, I didn’t care either way). I found a cute recipe for making cookies that looked like little pumpkins when finished. Following the recipe, I formed the cookie dough into little balls, baked them, cooked them, then coated them with orange food coloring after they cooled. The stems were almond slivers that were dyed green, then placed in the top of the cookie.

They looked great once I finished that night. I left them covered on the counter overnight. I must have done something wrong because when I awoke the next morning, the food coloring of both the pumpkins and the stems had faded way too much. Instead of looking like pumpkins, the cookies now looked like miniatures of a man’s nether regions (and nothing like the photo below).

I did not bring those shocking-looking cookies to the elementary school. Instead, Jamie and I stopped by the store on the way to school to buy some quick treats to take. I should have made marshmallow Ghost Treats instead. The easy-peasy recipe is to cut a pre-made rice crispy treat in half, then coat those halves with vanilla frosting, pop on some chocolate chip eyes, and place the whole thing on a stick.

To keep the Ghost Treats vegan, you would have to make the bar part yourself. That would be a lot of work. Why would this be necessary? Well, if you love marshmallows and don’t want to be grossed out, do not click on the link below. This information ruined Rocky Road ice cream for me. If you want the information, though, click away.

https://sentientmedia.org/what-is-gelatin-made-of/?gclid=CjwKCAjwm8WZBhBUEiwA178UnM0Z8_ARKh6EjYdWRevJtdbN-0NciHn9V7sN8rwwud_NKPnWKw1QqRoCTicQAvD_BwE

There’s more than one reason I wrote a book called, “I Cooked; Therefore, They Ran.” This is not a cookbook, but stories about bad cooking experiences. Some people say, “Write what you know.” I know way too much about bad cooking.

I am compelled to add that the one and only review for this book that I received on Amazon was, “Grab a copy. In fact, get six as this will make wonderful birthday and holiday presents for those who like to or think they can cook.”

My history of bad cooking explains why I am always pleasantly surprised to cook something that turns out . . . well, edible. Recently, I successfully made stuffed peppers. I found a vegan recipe which was easy to adapt to the filling ingredients I had on hand. I really just needed a few instructions about how long to cook the stuffed peppers.

All I had to do was cook the vegetables in olive oil over medium heat until they were lightly browned. Then, after cutting off the top of the peppers and removing all seeds, I stuffed the peppers, then placed the tops back on. I cooked the re-assembled peppers for 40 minutes in an oven preheated to 375 degrees. I then removed the tops and cooked the topless peppers for 5 to 10 more minutes. This last 5 to 10 minutes is good to do if you are adding vegan cheese (but I didn’t have any on hand). I used the last 10 minutes to make sure the edges browned.

Success! I created something that qualified as tasty food. This makes a wonderful autumn meal.

And speaking of autumn, I want to say, “Happy Halloween” or “Happy Costume Day” (whatever you prefer) to all of my readers!

A few days later, my daughter presented an entree of macaroni and vegan cheese with green peas and green beans. See the photo caption for the name she called the entree.

She even commented that she was naming these dishes because we are told by nutritionists to “eat the rainbow” by having more fruits and vegetables in our diets.

https://www.healthline.com/nutrition/eat-the-rainbow#benefits

Inexplicably, however, she stopped giving `color’ names to food after the second presentation. This was incomprehensible because, after all, her Bachelor of Fine Arts degree is from design school. Doesn’t every designer, artist, writer, architect, and people of numerous other professions know about the Rule of Three?

https://school.iqdoodle.com/framework/core-principles/rule-of-three/

I was more than willing to take up the slack of less than three, but I’m a lousy cook, so I searched for some store-bought items to represent foods of color. I will present these to my imaginary nutritionist, with the official made-up name of Edie Thisnotthat Killjoy, and see what she thinks. (I’m just kidding with the name. Real nutritionists are to be respected for their insight into how food works in our bodies, unlike Edie, who is a fictional grouch).

Here’s what I found:

Potatoes contain nicotine, so they are addicting, right? https://www.vidarholen.net/contents/junk/nicotine.html

Hey, Edie, do these potato chips count as “eating the rainbow?”

Edie says, “No.”

Hey, Edie, here’s some colorful bread. I could eat this rainbow of sugar and carbs all day long!

Edie says, “Get Real. You’re a loser who will never be a loser of weight if you stuff your mouth with this kind of stuff all day long.”

Ouch! Harsh! I guess my extra pounds are showing. And Edie, you said both `loser’ and `stuff’ twice in one sentence. (My determination to provoke Edie continues).

Hey Edie, Halloween is coming soon, so isn’t candy corn a great way to eat the rainbow? (Apparently, this shows my addiction to sugar. I’m probably one of the only people in the world who actually likes candy corn. Do you like candy corn?).

Edie says, “You are ridiculous. Halloween is a time for eating apples.”

Sure, I’ll eat an apple, if it is candied or covered in caramel. I can get into some caramel corn, too. Also, throw in some pumpkin bread. Thanks, October! I look forward to seeing you soon.

Hey, Edie, I see Roy G. Biv (red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet) in this dessert. You cannot tell me this cake is not iced with the colors of the rainbow.

Edie says, “Negative. You apparently misunderstand the `eating the rainbow’ concept.”

Edie herself is incredibly negative about eating the colors of the rainbow when it comes to fun food. Boo! (And that is not meant in a Halloween sort of way. After all, this is only September). For the record, I understand that “eating the rainbow” pertains to fruits and vegetables, but a girl can dream, can’t she?

Hey, Edie, how about the motto of “Everything in moderation?” Better yet, how about Oscar Wilde’s take on the matter when he said, “Everything in moderation, including moderation.”

Right now, I’m in the mood to partake of something sweet—in moderation. I have decided to whip up a batch of peanut butter cookies using the most fool-proof recipe in the world. I’ve made this 3-ingredient recipe often, always being happy with the result. The recipe only makes 8 to 9 cookies (so if you share, that cuts down the chance of overeating). Here’s the recipe:

• Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Combine 1 cup white sugar [I only used 1/2 cup of sugar because peanut butter is already very sweet], 1 cup of smooth peanut butter, and 1 egg. Mix until smooth. Roll small balls from mixture, place on baking sheet, and press top in a criss-cross manner with a fork. Bake for 15 or 20 minutes. Let cool for 2 minutes before eating. Store any leftovers in an airtight container. The cookies stay fresh for 3 days.

Much to my surprise, there were no eggs in the refrigerator when I began my baking mission, but my daughter advised me that I could make a substitute egg from water and flaxseed. Here’s the recipe for the egg substitute:

• Combine 1 tablespoon flaxseed meal plus 2.5 tablespoons water. Let mixture sit for 5 minutes, then use.

I once saw a baker on TV using an ice-cream scoop to dip and form cookies from the batter, so that’s what I do now when baking cookies. Here’s what my pre-baked dough looked like:

Here’s a photo from a prior successful bake of these cookies:

This is not what my version turned out like on the recent craving-sugar bake. Here’s the big problem with my ancient oven. If a recipe calls for a 350-degree oven, my dial has to be lowered to 300 degrees to reach 350 degrees. Otherwise, the oven is at 400 degrees. Crazy, right? After I had baked the cookies for 15 minutes, I took them out only to notice burned edges.

I have a friend who actually has a 1960s degree in home economics (do they still award those degrees in college?), and she said a cookie is finished baking when a light touch on the top of the cookie causes it to spring back. I touched the top of the cookie lightly, and the cookie sank down as if it had been stepped on by a fourteen-thousand pound elephant (or me, if I don’t stop shoveling junk food and desserts into my mouth).

• SIDEBAR: I do not see the “shoveling” comment as body-shaming myself, and I certainly would never body shame anyone else. Instead, this is an acknowledgment that I need to eat healthier to maintain a longer life. But I will never completely give up my sweet tooth. Life's too short not to indulge every now and then. When humorist author Erma Bombeck was asked what she would do if she had life to live over, she replied, “I would have eaten less cottage cheese and more ice cream.” This is from her book, Eat Less Cottage Cheese and More Ice Cream, Thoughts on Life.

When I performed the home economist’s cookie test, there was no springing back. My push-down only created a cookie basin.

That’s when I realized that I had forgotten to lower the oven temperature dial. No recipe is truly fool-proof when I’m involved. Because the middle of the cookies were so mushy, I had to return them to the oven for five minutes, despite the burned exteriors. Here is a photo of my overbaked cookies after the five minutes had passed:

Because my mind wanders like an off-course rocket, I had to research why forks are dragged across peanut butter cookies. Thanks to Google, I found out that the answer is because peanut butter is dense, and this density causes the entire peanut butter cookie dough to bake unevenly. The fork criss-cross design is said to solve the problem due to the ruts in the top of the dough. I’m no scientist, but this seems odd and unlikely to me.

(Kramer’s line is from a Seinfeld script for “The Reverse Peephole,” written by Spike Feresten).

The criss-cross would cause the peanut butter cookies to bake evenly? Ha, Allegedly! I criss-crossed the cookie dough, then was double-crossed by the dough, which mocked me by not baking evenly at all. Maybe the whole universe of cooking is against me!

(George’s line comes from the Seinfeld episode “The Apology” written by Jennifer Crittenden).

Hey, Edie, at least I’m eating less calories when I have to cut off the burnt edges of the peanut butter cookies, right? Surprisingly, the cookies were at least . . . edible. That’s the most a terrible cook can ask for, yes? And the smoky flavor keeps me from eating too many.

Hey, Edie, I’ll eat the rainbow, stare at the rainbow, love the beauty of a rainbow, read and write stories about the gold at the end of the rainbow, and understand the Biblical promise of the rainbow.

And God said, "This is the sign of the covenant I am making between me and you and every living creature with you, a covenant for all generations to come: I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth. Whenever I bring clouds over the earth and the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will remember my covenant between me and you and all living creatures of every kind. Never again will the waters become a flood to destroy all life.” —Genesis 9: 12—16

I sincerely thank God that my cooking hasn’t destroyed any life yet. Perhaps, when Paul said in 1 Thessalonians 5:17 that we should “pray without ceasing,” someone somewhere had just finished eating one of my overbaked peanut butter cookies. So, no matter what the situation, praying without ceasing is always excellent advice!

Do you have any easy recipe you go to when you want something sweet that is baked? Let me know in the comments below.

In the past three weeks, however, I cooked three different meals, all vegan. The first two meals were not half bad (and they were even half good, too). The third meal was a complete disaster.

COOK NUMERO UNO: I made a stuffed onion after seeing Alex Guarnaschelli make one on her TV show Supermarket Stakeout (from the version, “What Would Alex Make?). The finished product by Alex looked so delicious that I had to try it.

The most difficult part of the recipe was coring the center of the onion. I used Vidalia onions because they tend to be sweeter and the bottom sits flatter. The recipe said that coring the middle of the onion with a spoon was easy. The recipe lied. The spoon didn’t work, so I used a sharp knife—carefully and with much prayer that I wouldn’t cut myself. Fortunately, my prayer was answered, and I remained unharmed.

The oven was preheated to 350 degrees. The filling (pre-cooked rice, carrots, mushrooms, the scooped-out portions of the onions, and thinly-sliced potatoes) was sauteed in Earth Balance (vegan “butter”) A 1/2 cup of vegan broth was added after the onion pieces carmelized. Meanwhile, I placed the hollowed-out onions on a lipped, baking sheet lined with parchment paper.

I placed the filling in the the hollow of the onions. Then, I added croutons on top. Panko bread crumbs would have worked better because the croutons were a little big, and lots of those chunks fell off the onion.

I cooked this creation for 45 minutes per the recipe instructions, but longer cooking would have made the onion a little tastier and softer. Also, some recipes I looked at had called for the onion to be boiled first. This, too, would have made the onion easier to core and softer after the cook. Anyway, I added a little, pre-made Asian salad from a bag, and the meal was decent.

COOK NUMERO DOS: After a friend of mine talked about making a cauliflower steak, I decided to try the same. I washed the cauliflower, then removed the bottom and top of it, then cut it vertically into thick slices. I covered the cauliflower with olive oil and lots of salt, pepper, and garlic powder on both sides. I then baked the cauliflower for 15 minutes in a 425 degree oven (turning the steaks over after 7 minutes). Some mixed vegetables and salad served as side dishes, and everything tasted great. Next time, I would cook the cauliflower a little bit longer because the darkened bits were the crispiest and tasted the best.

COOK NUMERO TRES: This time, my cooking could only be labeled as Yucksville, the Edsel of Eating, Discomfort Food, Horror in the Third Degree, and Eat It Only If You Dare. If cooking were a crime, I’d be given a well-deserved sentence of life without parole due to this cooking fiasco. There certainly was no young Oliver standing around asking for, “More, please.” Instead, all three of us who tried it said, “Less, please,” and “Never again, please.” None of this is an exaggeration.

Sometimes, good intentions go horribly wrong, especially when I’m in the kitchen. I had a little more than half a loaf of bread that was expiring soon, so I searched for recipes to deal with excess bread, assuring myself that I could adjust any recipe to become vegan. I came across something called “Green Chile Brunch Bake” that sounded delicious.

I cannot blame the recipe, as the recipe warned that a hard bread (such as French bread) worked best. I had soft bread, but I thought toasting it just a bit might make it work the same as a hard bread. I found out later that it did not. Also, when I found out that I had no green chiles, I used jalapenos instead. That was not a good idea!

The beginning is to tear the bread into pieces to cover the bottom of a cake pan. Also, the recipe called for 2 cups of cheddar cheese and 1 pound of cooked, pork sausage, which I left out. Instead, I used lots of canned vegetables, which were placed on top of the bread cubes. Cue the Ewwwww!

The recipe called for 2 and 1/2 cups of half and half cream beaten with six eggs to pour over the bread and other stuff, but I used almond milk instead. Ewwwww squared! Then, I had to sit everything to absorb overnight in the refrigerator. I could not imagine that all of the liquid would get absorbed, but it did.

The result was disgusting. The bread was far too soft and soppy, and yet the casserole was somehow both wet and far too dry all at the same time. The corn, carrots, onions, and jalapenos all withered, as if they were embarrassed to be served in this dish.

WARNING! Avert your eyes quickly if you do not care to see the photo below of the unpalatable disaster. You cannot unsee this.

Ewwwww to infinity and beyond! I had also added a salad from a bag. The salad I had purchased at Sam’s was advertised as being available there for a “limited time.” It was called Pickle Salad (because the dressing was Ranch with pickle juice), and it was as horrible as it sounds. The limited time in the advertisement was for a good reason. Pickle Salad should be limited to never.

There was way too much of the undesirable slop left. Thinking I would bravely soldier on to eat the rest of it in an effort to be a good steward of not wasting food, I covered the leftovers and stored them in the refrigerator. I then had nightmares all night long about consuming the rest of the Green Chile Brunch Bake.

Whenever I was awakened by a nightmare, I then had hallucinations and visions of horror about the leftovers. I also had a headache that did not go away until I made the decision the next morning to place the food where it truly belonged—in the garbage! (How could I be a good steward of not wasting food when I had already wasted food by making this disgusting slop?) Fortunately, it was a garbage pick-up day, and the trash truck took that awful calamity away from my house and my mind. The meal came back to my mind during the writing of this article, but knowing the food is no longer haunting and taunting me has only made my life better.

The moral of this story is that no matter what you are doing, you can’t strike gold every time. Two out of three isn’t bad. At least, I tried.

And don’t worry—if I ever invite you over to my house for dinner, I promise I will order our meal from a restaurant.

When I asked about this, they explained their thinking to me. They only use eggs from poultry that was raised ethically, from free-rage hens or chickens kept as pets by somebody they know.

My daughter’s cousin has chickens, so she gave some eggs to our house. Much to my surprise, she told us to keep the eggs outside the refrigerator. Please note that commercially-produced eggs in the U.S. must be refrigerated. I’m not an adventurous eater, and I have a fear of salmonella, so I avoided those eggs.

The “vegan” girls ate them and apparently enjoyed them very much. So, now the correct term for them is “Ovo-vegetarian.” Nevertheless, my title stays the same.

For any of you who are now horrified that “vegans” may be eating baby chicks, rest assured that this is not the case. A hen lays eggs whether a rooster is around or not. My daughter’s cousin only has hens, no roosters, so the eggs are chick-free. Commercial hen houses also have no roosters. For a complete explanation, see: http://tinyurl.com/522fyj77.

Of course, even when we buy “ethical” eggs from the store, we refrigerate them. Recently, I was glad there were eggs in the refrigerator because I had decided to make some French Toast.

When I was growing up, we occasionally had French toast. I thought that such toast was rather fancy, both because the word “French” was in the title and because the toast was both eggy and sweet, all at the same time. Besides, who doesn’t like anything that can be covered with syrup?

My growing-up French bread experience always consisted of left-over white Wonder Bread, soaked in 100 percent whole milk, regular store-bought eggs, white sugar, and cinnamon. I read a recent article that suggested that using long, Italian bread (like the kind you serve with spaghetti) or brioche for French toast improves the eating experience. I also read that adding vanilla makes French toast taste better than ever.

I incorporated these suggestions. I used the dairy-free pistachio milk in our refrigerator, two “ethical” eggs, some cinnamon, some sugar, and half a capful of real vanilla. There were no measurements that took place; I just mixed everything together. I soaked the Italian bread in the mixture, then cooked it over a medium heat. The result was so delicious that no syrup was necessary! I’m usually a terrible cook, so I was pleased with the dish.

Had the vegans underfoot not have become ovo-vegetarians who now stock eggs from free-range hens, I may not have had the eggs to cook this dish. (I don’t usually have eggs around at all).

My French bread mixture was too much for only two servings, however, so I made four pieces. I invited the vegans—I mean ovo-vegetarians—to try the French bread, but they declined. They fear my cooking as much as I fear salmonella.

Well, there’s nothing left to do now but enjoy the leftover French bread for today’s brunch. And I hope that all of you enjoy the good food that tends to be presented on a 4th of July weekend! Let me know in the comments about some of your Independence Day favorites.

Not so fast! Figs hold a dark secret. In order to ripen, figs depend on pollinator female fig wasps. These wasps, however, do not pollinate on the outside of the fig. They actually manage to get inside of the fig, lay eggs, then die.

The fig wasp is shorter than an eyelash, and the female wasp finds a tiny opening to get inside the fig. When entering the fig, the antennae and wings of the wasp are torn, ensuring that the fig will die inside the wasp.

The wasp brings pollen from her own birth fig to the fig she enters to lay eggs. If the fig which has been entered is male, the wasp will now give birth via eggs, then die. The pollen causes the fig to ripen. Sometimes, a female wasp accidentally enters a female fig. In that case, the fig is pollinated, but the environment prohibits wasps from laying eggs. Instead, the wasp just dies.

The male fig eggs hatch first from what is known as a gall, then impregnate female wasps that are still contained within a neighboring gall. (Eww! There are apparently no consent or incest laws involved in the world of the wasp figs.).

Those female impregnated eggs hatch a few days later. The males now dig a hole in the fig wall that lets the females fly out and find new figs to penetrate, repeating the cycle of pollenating the second fig with pollen from the first fig.  (“Honey, here’s your gateway to find your death home,” said the male wasp). The male wasps remain behind in the fig, as they have no wings to use to fly away. So, like the mother wasp, these males die inside the fig.

The fig then produces an enzyme that digests the wasp after the pollination and/or birthing process. As Kramer once said in an episode of Seinfeld (Yada, Yada, Yada, with a script by Ethan Brown), “Mother Nature is a mad scientist!”

So, what is the debate about eating figs (other than the “ick” factor)?

A fig is not a fruit, but a flower. One VV argument is that a fig can be neither vegan nor vegetarian because a dead wasp, albeit digested, is inside the fig. The other VV argument is that the wasp figs serve a vital ecological role, so figs fit a vegan/vegetarian diet.

Overall, I don’t give a fig. For a history of that saying, see: https://idiomorigins.org/origin/not-give-a-fig.

The fig argument is silly because the majority of figs that are purchased at an American grocery store have been cultivated in the U.S. to be self-pollinating, so no wasp is necessary. (Thanks, Agricultural Science!) Unless you are eating a fig plucked from a tree found in a rain forest, there is most likely no dead wasp inside. (For the record, the crunch you feel when eating a fig newton is from seeds, not the dead wasp. The wasp gets completely broken down and absorbed by the fig to the point there is nothing left to provide a crunch).

Amazingly, there is a lot of mention of figs and fig trees in the Bible. See https://www.openbible.info/topics/fig_trees. Most people are familiar with Genesis 3:7, as to what happened after Adam and Eve had eaten the fruit from the Tree of knowledge and recognized their nakedness. The verse states, “Then, the eyes of both were open, and they knew they were naked. And they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loincloths.”

In 1563, via the Council of Trent, art censorship began when the “Fig Leaf Campaign” was launched to camouflage reproductive organs which existed in artwork. If any reproductive organs could be seen in any artwork (including paintings and statues), they were covered with fig leaves. See https://tinyurl.com/ywm8v4y5.

Personally, I never eat figs, anyway. The whole “wasp inside” thing is a little strange for my taste—and my taste buds. What I do like, however, are a couple of meals I was able to eat this week, wasp-free.

Mother Nature may be a mad scientist, but I am a Mad Cook (although perfectly compos mentis when not cooking). Most of the food I cook turns out burned and inedible. The phot below is proof.

Did you ever think it might be cool to have a personal chef provide meals for you? Well, I sort of do have a personal chef. I mentioned to my daughter that I really like the vegan spaghetti bolognaise she makes, and she then made the dish for dinner that very night!

A few days later, when the rain suddenly brought cool weather to us, I mentioned that I was craving the delicious potato soup she makes, a rich soup not just full of potatoes, but also full of greens, almond milk, fresh onions and garlic, and carrots. Voila! That night, we had potato soup.

And, of course, every Tuesday is Taco Tuesday at our house, which is not always necessarily tacos, but is always delicious Mexican food.

I’m happy any time someone else is providing food for me, which is probably why I even like hospital food and airline food. Now, if I could get a personal housekeeper, my life would be set. Of course, I don’t want just any housekeeper. I want someone who follows me around, then makes sure that everything I toss aside gets put into its proper place. My life would be complete, and I would never complain about anything ever again. Except maybe figs. And escargot. And my own cooking.

At one point in the movie, a guest is taken to see the snail farm. Later, the same guest suggests bringing in a few snails to add to the dinner about to be eaten. Vic replies that snails are poisonous to eat unless they have first been starved to purge them of toxic material.

I did what any sane person would do at this point. I paused the movie to go search whether the “starvation first” concept was true about snails.

Yes, it is. Apparently, the starvation for seven to ten days is necessary to remove dirt, fecal matter, and any toxic plants from the digestive tract of snails. Otherwise, humans who eat un-starved snails are at risk of becoming sick. The starvation is followed by a saltwater and vinegar bath for the snails to complete the purge of all the bad stuff.

How about the first snail ever eaten? Who was the John Doe who came across a snail one day and thought, “I’ll eat this.” How hungry was Doe? Then, after eating the snail, Doe must have become ill.

Apparently, Doe’s next thought (after recovering from almost dying) was, “Well, I’ll just starve the snail, then rinse it in saltwater and vinegar, then cook it and eat it. I’ll be fine. Besides, if I cover that snail in garlic butter, the taste will be delicious.”

Even if a snail is a delivery system for tasty garlic butter, my answer is still, “Escar—No!”

I have never eaten escargot in my life, and butter (a dairy product) is off the “they cooked it for me” list now that I live in a vegan household. Still, I always have questions about how certain foods came to be eaten. Who looked at a cow, a sea animal, a chicken, or a pig and thought to kill and eat it? And the flexitarian in me says, “And why is it sometimes delicious?” In fact, these products are so delicious that the market is flooded with vegan and vegetarian products to mimic the carnivorous ones.

Unlike snails, I have eaten plenty of cashews in my life. Did you know that cashews still in their shell could be poisonous? The shells contain urushiol, a toxin, which could leak into the cashew part we eat.

https://www.healthline.com/nutrition/are-cashews-poisonous

So, one day, Jane Roe (I’m an equal opportunity user of imaginary names) saw a shelled cashew hanging off a tree and thought, “I’ll eat this.” She then gets itchy or sick or both. Roe then decides that a cashew will be okay if roasted. Sure, that’s how it happened.

Cashews must be removed from the shell, then roasted to remove any possible toxins. When you see a label of “raw cashews” in what you may buy from a store, the “raw” does not refer to being taken straight out of the shell with no roasting. The “raw” only refers to the fact that no salt or flavor has been added to the cashew.

No “ew” for cashews, though. Cashews are chosen first by me out of any nut mix at my house. And have you ever had cashew butter, a staple for vegans? Delicious!

Now, here’s another delicious food that got accused of being toxic: The tomato. In the case of the tomato, the accusation was false. This bad reputation for the tomato came from the fact that aristocrats often died after having eaten tomatoes, causing the nickname for the fruit to be “poison apple” (not to be confused with the poisonous apple that knocked out Snow White).

The aristocrats died, however, not from the tomato but from the pewter plates used to serve them. The pewter plates had an incredibly high lead content, and the high acidity of tomatoes caused the tomato to absorb some of that lead, causing tomato eaters to often become ill.

On September 26, 1820, Colonel Robert Gibbon Johnson [a real, not imaginary, Doe or Roe person] of New Jersey had brought tomatoes from abroad. Standing on the steps of the Salem courthouse before a group of more than 2,000 people, he prepared to eat a basket of tomatoes.

The crowd had gathered to watch what they perceived would be a public suicide. A band that was present played a dirge.

Johnson ate the tomatoes and did not die, much to the amazement of the gathered crowd. Today, tomatoes are used in cuisines all over the world.

My maternal grandfather owned a tomato plant that provided tomatoes to all the grocery stores in the area. He shared generously with our family, so we never had a lack of tomatoes in the house.

Even more delicious to me than tomatoes are potatoes. I’m addicted to potatoes cooked in any way whatsoever. Surprisingly, both tomatoes and potatoes contain nicotine, as do sweet peppers, tea, and cauliflower. Just ask science: tinyurl.com/bddzhvbp.

The levels of nicotine in these foods are so low, however, that harm to human beings from ingesting these foods is deemed extremely unlikely. Could the nicotine be why I’m so addicted to potatoes? That is also not likely, but I do love a good potato!

Loving almost all vegetables and some fruits makes for an easy transition to a vegan diet. I do not have the genetic make-up to like kale, as I find it to have a bitter, dirty taste. But count me in for any other vegetable! Please let me know in the comments about any of your favorite foods or food addictions.

When I got home, I asked, “Do you use nutritional yeast to add to the smoothies you make?”

“No,” she said. “I use it to be the cheese in our vegan macaroni and cheese.”

Oh, so that’s how she makes mac-n-cheese into a vegan dish! It’s good, but the vegan mac’n’cheese never has the bright orange color of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese (KMC).

When I was a financially struggling college student, I survived on KMC (less than $1 a box back then) and the 10¢ box of crumbs you could get from Long John Silver’s (LJS). I still love both of these foods. As I have admitted numerous times, I’m only a vegan because I eat the delicious food the two vegan cooks living here place in front of me. Call me a fraud! I’m definitely a healthier fraud, though, since eating like a vegan most of the time.

I always used to wonder why the KMC was such a bright orange color when you mixed the noodles with the ingredients from the little white packet that came in the box. I discovered that, originally, the orange color came from the artificial yellow dyes 5 and 6, which were used in the KMC sold in America (but not in other countries).

Once Americans started to complain about these dyes as being harmful additives, however, KMC stepped up and took action. Yellow dyes 5 and 6 were replaced with paprika, annatto, and turmeric to maintain the product's signature, eerily-bright orange color, and all other artificial preservatives were removed. KMC also reduced the saturated fat by 25% and lowered the sodium by 100 mg.

KMC had announced that the dyes would be removed by January of 2016. Instead, KMC made this change without any big hurrah in December of 2015. This did not cause a nosedive in sales in any way.

KMC then issued a press release referring to the change as "the world's largest blind taste test,” and proclaimed that "fifty million boxes later . . .  people didn’t notice a difference."

Good for KMC! There’s nothing quite like eating better when the original taste still exists in a product. Are food dyes harmful to the human body? Perhaps or maybe not. Check out:

https://www.healthline.com/nutrition/food-dyes#TOC_TITLE_HDR_8

NY, however, is definitely healthy. NY has benefits other than being used to create cheese. Some NY products add vitamin B-12, which helps boost energy (a deficiency of this vitamin can cause fatigue). NY can also support the immune system and reduce inflammation which results from any bacterial infection. For a listing of numerous NY benefits, see:

https://www.webmd.com/diet/nutritional-yeast-good-for-you

After graduating, I’m no longer a college student (so not struggling financially), and vegan Mac’n’cheese is made for me every few weeks. Thus, I also graduated from the blue box with orange noodles on the cover, as well as the white box full of fried crumbs. I do not purchase KMC now, although I still like the product (especially in light of the healthier changes that were made), and our town’s LJS closed years ago (so no boxes of fried crumbs are easily available).

These two vegan cooks living at my house might make get me to my healthiest existence in years. In fact, after eating vegan (except for a few exceptions) these past few years, my blood work showed evidence of improved health. My doctor actually gave me an “A” when he viewed my last blood test results (and he is not an easy A giver). I had lost a small bit of weight, and my A1C count was down. Hurray for proof!

I will probably always have a natural predilection for pre-packaged and/or fried foods (although I’m not sure “natural” is the correct adjective to use in this context), but I must realistically look at these as “sometimes” foods (like Cookie Monster says about cookies). The most important standard and still excellent advice in regard to any diet is, “All Things in Moderation.” Who’s up for some fried tofu?

Still, if I happen to pass any LJS in my travels, I might just have to stop for a box of crumbs. And I’ll never keep KMC completely off the table. Why? To celebrate memories of my college days. And because those crumbs and orange noodles are delicious!

What are some foods that remind you of your younger days? Tell me in the comments below.

After occasionally indulgences in “sometimes” foods, I will then gladly return to being a vegetarian by circumstances. Who doesn’t love having someone else cook for them? Getting healthier as a result is just an added benefit.

Also, you may want to avoid this month’s newsletter if you do not enjoy a true story about a lazy, deceptive, and rueful coward (moi). If tales of fire and brimstone are not your cup of milk-free tea, consider just walking away now (and writers have poetic license to exaggerate).

Finally, if you are not a forgiving sort toward sinners, confessors, and penitents, great and small, any known proverb regarding written disgust would advise you to look away from these words on a computer.

SECOND TRIGGER WARNING: Also, if you are NOT a vegan or a vegetarian, this newsletter might cause you to re-think that. My sister, when she was still a vegetarian, would yell at me “Red Blood! Red Blood!” whenever I was eating a cheeseburger. That was horrible behavior which is being somewhat repeated in this newsletter.

THIRD TRIGGER WARNING: If you like to avoid deranged ramblings, let your reading come to a screeching halt. (This warning exists solely to serve the “Rule of Three” method of writing).

Q: What kind of writer issues trigger warnings that may deter any possible readers? A: A crazy one.

In my defense, my older brother pulled me out of my crib when I was a baby, so I hit my head on the floor. This was probably prior to the fontanels closing. So, yes, I am employing an insanity defense. (Spoiler alert: The insanity defense works less than one percent of the time).

This newsletter is called Vegan by Circumstances, and when those circumstances temporarily changed, so did I. The two girls living with me took a weekend vacation, miles from where we are all currently living. This caused me to take a vacation from veganism.

All on my own, even prior to being vegan by circumstances, I have never been a fan of eating turkey or chicken or anything else that falls into the avian category.

Tracy Jordan said it best by thinking about how weird it is that we eat birds. The line appeared in season 3, episode 17 of “30 Rock” (an episode written by Matt Hubbard).

And when you know that I get my best knowledge from the imaginary Tracy Jordan (and sometimes Kenneth, Jack, Liz, Jenna, Dotcom, Grizz, Frank, Toofer, or Lutz), you can easily infer that I may be deranged. Can you tell that I have been watching a ton of “30 Rock” reruns lately?

I have never been a fan of eating fish or other things from the sea after I made the mistake of once going on a deep-sea fishing boat. Supposedly, Otto Von Bismarck (Germany’s first chancellor) once said that “to retain respect for sausages and laws, one must not watch them in the making.” In the same vein, to retain respect for fish, do not watch what happens to them on a deep-sea fishing boat.

Sure, fish are packed with omega-3 fatty acids, vitamins D and B2, calcium, phosphorus, iron, zinc, iodine, magnesium, and potassium. At one time, the American Heart Association recommended eating fish at least two times per week as part of a healthy diet. Still, fish have that very-dangerous-for-you mercury thing going on.

I once tried scallops, then freaked out after seeing a photo of a scallop’s numerous, blue eyes.

I never liked restaurants that had a steer head hanging on the wall, or that served fish or shrimp with the head still on. If we supposedly eat with our eyes, what’s attractive about looking at the eyes of something we are about to eat? No, thank you.

There are lyrics written by Kelly Lovelace and Tim Nichols in “Girls Lie, Too.” The words are, “We love to see deer heads hanging on the wall.” No, we don’t (or at least most of us). That’s another lie in a long list of many.

Even so, I am well aware that in the New Testament, in Acts 10: 10-15, Peter had a vision that is often interpreted as representing liberty to eat all kinds of animals. The passage reads:

• Peter became hungry and wanted something to eat, and while the meal was being prepared, he fell into a trance. He saw heaven opened and something like a large sheet being let down to earth by its four corners. It contained all kinds of four-footed animals, as well as reptiles and birds. Then a voice told him, “Get up, Peter. Kill and eat.”

• “Surely not, Lord!” Peter replied. “I have never eaten anything impure or unclean.”

• The voice spoke to him a second time, “Do not call anything impure that God has made clean.”

Yes, I am currently vegan by circumstances, but I have no moral judgment toward eating animals or towards those who do. Even so, as the saying goes, when the cat’s away, the mice will play . . . or when the vegans are gone, I ordered a steak.

Charlie came over, and we used home delivery to order our steaks from Outback Steakhouse. We joked about the pains we took to hide our carnivorous ways from the two girls who would return the next day. We double-wrapped the remains and took them to the outdoor trashcan.

The next day when the girls came back, I was sitting in the living room. My daughter asked from the kitchen, “Did you guys eat steak last night?”

Ah-oh. Caught! Like the deep-down, yellow bellied, lily-livered coward that I am, I immediately threw Charlie under the bus. I responded, “Charlie did.” Then, I added, “I had a baked potato.”

It was true. I had a baked potato that came with the steak, but I ate the entire meal. Of course, I had tried to make it sound like to my daughter that I only had a baked potato. At least, when Charlie came over that night, I confessed to him what I had done. He laughed. He’s a good friend to let me blame him for my actions.

That night, we ordered Chinese food for dinner to feed all four of us. Chinese food is a great option because there are tons of vegan meals available. I ordered my usual, a cashew-vegan dish that is always delicious. After the meal, the girls returned to their part of the house.

Charlie opened his fortune cookie first. Naturally, it was some kind of banal saying of hope that would be welcomed by anyone. Then, I opened my fortune cookie, never expecting that condemnation would come from a dessert. My cookie read:

“Never forget that a half truth is a whole lie.” Wow! I had told a half truth, while adding the indignity of blaming Charlie for meat to have crossed the domicile of Chez Vegan. According to the cookie, I could not escape the fact that I had told a whole lie.

I repented, not for eating meat, but for the half-truth/whole lie deceit I had employed. By “repent,” I mean that I pledged to myself to not lie again, but I did not tell my daughter of my repentance. (I’ve already mentioned that I am a coward by nature. That’s problem why I always related to the Cowardly Lion in The Wizard of Oz, but I was a Cowardly Liar instead. Oops! There I go again with a half-truth. I’m a coward about numerous things, which I would list but those of you who braved reading this far do not need to read a list that rivals the length of War and Peace).

My daughter probably knew about my deceit anyway, as I figured out later that we had possibly forgotten to dispose of our order receipt, which she must have found. Like Numbers 32:23 states, “Be sure your sins will find you out.” I’m not saying eating meat is a sin (remember Peter’s dream’s message), but Proverbs 6:16-19 does list “a lying tongue” as one of the things God hates.

I will continue to be vegan by circumstances and enjoy the cooking of the two girls. Tonight, a dairy-free pasta is on the menu. I look forward to eating it, all with a conscience as clear as a coward’s conscience can be. Hey, at least I’m conscious of my conscience. And if the trigger warnings did not stop you from reading, just know that I love you, regardless of your chosen diet.

They brought with them the usual stuff that people bring during a move, but they also brought with them their vegan lifestyles. This meant that I was in for a new adventure.

I considered myself a Flexitarian. I have no qualms about being carnivorous or people who are, but in the past, I usually tended toward vegetarian eating. Veganism seemed too strict. How can I live without cheese?

I grew up with two vegetarian sisters. One still is; the other returned to meat when her low levels of iron caused her to be anemic.

Fortunately, the plant-based products are so much better these days that vegans (and vegetarians) can easily get the nutrients they need with careful planning. Also, there are excellent supplements on the market.

I am always happy to eat anything that someone else has cooked for me, and my two roommates are excellent cooks. One of the advantages of being a vegan by circumstances is that I have effortlessly lost a little bit of weight. Yeah! I’ve finally done something that my doctor has wanted me to do for years.

I am a lousy cook, so much so that I even wrote a book called, “I Cooked; Therefore, They Ran.” And, I have already accumulated enough bad cooking since that time to write a Part II.

Still, I followed a friend’s recipe and made a tasty carrot salad to go along with the vegan macaroni and cheese that my daughter made with vegan cheese (yes, it exists!). It was a great meal.