The Kitchen


Those of you who know me know that I feel that a kitchen is the room that is home to the refrigerator, that marvel of human engineering that makes ice and keeps my Coke and my Tropicana Grovestand (Most Pulp!) Orange Juice nice and cold.

Well, circumstances sometimes conspire to make one reconsider.  I can hear Marilyn in the background saying "I told you so."  Nicely.  In her terms, she never gave up on me, to her the kitchen is THE room for play and The Good.

But, the "circumstances."

First, the community that I moved into, Metairie, a ("upscale") suburb of New Orleans, has many Po'Boy sandwich shops.  A Po'Boy is a Subway made with gravy and French Bread.  Well, let me tell you, with no fear of libeling the town, what passes for French bread here would make a Frenchman sick.  It is drek.  You can get good bread in Metairie and New Orleans, you just have to go to a bakery or Whole Foods and pay a high-price for it.  Thus my entree into the kitchen in order to make good bread.  And while I have not been "successful" in my bread-making, my bread has more character and tastes better than most of what goes by that name nearby.

Second, living in the 'burbs, one cannot eat out ALL the time, as I used to in NYC.  When at home, I eat a pasta dish, chicken, or a "tutti-frutti basmati rice dish" of my own, uh, invention.

And, one day, shopping in Whole Foods - a wonderful shop to shop in, just be careful what you buy! - I began to get dizzy from hunger, so I bought a smoothie, which I consumed as I shopped.  YUM!  I soon bought a blender and read about strawberries being REAL healthful.  And walnuts and flaxseed.  So here's my strawberry smoothie recipe.