Necessity is definitely the mother of invention
I was brought up under the rule of two laws:
"TELEVISION WILL ROT YOUR BRAIN"
and
"NO JUNK FOOD"
The exception to the first rule was that we were allowed to watch public television (Sesame Street, Zoom, and Electric Company) and then to reinforce this rule we were told the tv was broken and could only tune in public television anyway. I guess questioning authority was a learned behaviour for me.
The exception to the second rule was my father. Dad introduced us to the Burger King on Boylston Street - all orange tile and brown formica - and that was a secret my sister, myself, and Dad kept from Mom. Everytime she went out of town or out on the town it was hamburgers, fries, and shakes.
My Dad was the one to bring me to the Empire Deli at the corner of East Berkley and Washington Streets, just below the old Dover Street station, for a baloney sandwich that seemed to me to be 3 inches of baloney on a soft bun, slathered with yellow mustard and served with a pickle spear and a Coke with chipped ice. Now THAT is junk food!
Also he would also give us dollars to go to the corner store for honeybuns and Cokes. But um, don't tell Mom.
So I think the real exception to the "no junk food" edict was my Dad.
But anyway, to circumvent the "no junk food" rule I found out that if I couldn't get Mom to buy it for me I could try to make it from scratch.
Which is why I have been in the kitchen from age 10.
And which is why I think it is fun to make Thin Mints and yogurt and Twinkies and soup and doughnuts from scratch.
Even if my friend The Accountant by Day helpfully points out that I can buy all that stuff in the store.
"TELEVISION WILL ROT YOUR BRAIN"
and
"NO JUNK FOOD"
The exception to the first rule was that we were allowed to watch public television (Sesame Street, Zoom, and Electric Company) and then to reinforce this rule we were told the tv was broken and could only tune in public television anyway. I guess questioning authority was a learned behaviour for me.
The exception to the second rule was my father. Dad introduced us to the Burger King on Boylston Street - all orange tile and brown formica - and that was a secret my sister, myself, and Dad kept from Mom. Everytime she went out of town or out on the town it was hamburgers, fries, and shakes.
My Dad was the one to bring me to the Empire Deli at the corner of East Berkley and Washington Streets, just below the old Dover Street station, for a baloney sandwich that seemed to me to be 3 inches of baloney on a soft bun, slathered with yellow mustard and served with a pickle spear and a Coke with chipped ice. Now THAT is junk food!
Also he would also give us dollars to go to the corner store for honeybuns and Cokes. But um, don't tell Mom.
So I think the real exception to the "no junk food" edict was my Dad.
But anyway, to circumvent the "no junk food" rule I found out that if I couldn't get Mom to buy it for me I could try to make it from scratch.
Which is why I have been in the kitchen from age 10.
And which is why I think it is fun to make Thin Mints and yogurt and Twinkies and soup and doughnuts from scratch.
Even if my friend The Accountant by Day helpfully points out that I can buy all that stuff in the store.
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