I’m not sure why, but over the past two evenings I’ve found it necessary to consume a 550 gram package of President’s Choice Chocolate Chunk cookies. If Dr. Oz knew he would have a fit, as he thinks even one of these is poison, so 36 of them would horrify him.
It probably just goes to show us that Dr. Oz is a lily-livered jam tart who should break down and eat bad food once in a while. Certainly his friend Oprah appears to be porking back the mashed potatoes and gravy with little guilt. At least I have the decency to feel conflicted about my habits.
However, here’s a rare good habit I’ve recently started, though I find it very difficult. I got an electric toothbrush, as per my hygienist’s suggestion. Have you ever tried one? It literally feels like a mini jackhammer is inside your mouth. Toothpaste that you foolishly smeared on the mini brush is spread throughout the bathroom.
I’ve now learned that you put the toothbrush inside your mouth before turning it on. This cuts down on flung toothpaste. Then, as your entire head is vibrating, you move the brush around, hoping to get all areas. Who knew that the inside of one’s mouth could be so ticklish? This is one of the things I find really hard to get used to.
The other day I was idly flipping through Lifestyle, my favourite section of the Globe and Mail, and saw a recipe for Seville orange marmalade. I raced right out and bought six oranges, and yesterday I made a batch. Have you ever tasted a Seville orange? They’re filled with seeds and membranes and a bit of pulp, and the tastes reminds one of Ipecac.
Ipecac was used to induce vomiting, and though I have never ingested it, I imagine its chemical composition is closely related to that of the Seville orange. I don’t think I have tasted a more bitter food. Funnily enough, though, both Denis and Nicky really liked it. I guess if you like bitter tastes, like beer, you would probably like Seville orange marmalade.
No special taste buds were required for the lunch I brought for my friend Liz and her mom Liza. We had scallops and shrimp in a white sauce made with wine, and for dessert we had apricot fools. I made apricot sauce last summer and froze it, then mixed this with whipped cream.
When I described the fools to the women at the gym the other day, I’d said something like, “You know, you combine whipped cream and cooked fruit.” To which one said, “No, I don’t know. In fact, I’ve never made a fool in this lifetime, nor do I think I made one in my last lifetime.” It helped me realize that not everyone races into stores to buy Seville oranges or try new recipes. Pity.