My college friend, Elisabeth over at littlemissmel, sent me an email today asking for recipes; I’m completely terrified. Here’s a woman I shared a boyfriend with (We love you, Fred Welch!); a woman I haven’t laid eyes on in years but who looks more and more beautiful (and thinner!) in every internet photo I see; a woman who has a child and a husband and a heckuva sense of humor. So how do I send her a recipe that doesn’t completely betray the woman I (want to) have become?
Do I confess that all of my recipes come out of the Weight Watchers Slow Good cookbook? Do I, say, let the email get lost in “the wedding shuffle” and simply not respond? Do I send the recipe for the beloved “Peanutbutter Stuff” (seemingly equal parts: peanut butter, syrup, sugar and butter; stir; chill) that I was raised on? Or do I own up to it all and write the email that admits that most nights we eat out, and the ones we don’t, I (out of some caloric penance) un-thaw a piece of Sam’s tilapia, throw it on aluminum foil with salt, pepper and olive oil and call it a night?
O, dear readers, although I sometimes pretend you don’t exist (alas…a holdover from my poetry days!), I need you now. Send recipes. Anything. Maybe even everything. And dad, I’ll be waiting for the hot dog casserole recipe–the ingredients of which, as instructed by my therapist, I blocked out.