When I was getting over my surgery I cooked a ham, just so I wouldn’t have to think about what I was going to eat for my next meal. But I got sick of the ham well before it ran out.
So then I decided to make ham and sausage jambalaya with Creole sauce from the recipe of Chef Francoise Auclaire le Vison, a process that took hours of hard labor, as it started with cutting up seven pounds of meat before going on to the vegetables. (Have you ever noticed that Cajun/Creole recipes all seem to aim at creating enough food to fill a 55-gallon barrel?)
I’ll tell you how Old School this cooking is. At one point I stared aghast at the recipe for the Creole sauce and said to myself, “My God! This calls for a whole pound of butter!”
It must be admitted that I cut the amount of butter in half, which resulted in my thinking to myself, “My God! This calls for half a pound of butter!”
The taste seemed not to be affected by my half-hearted attempt to save my arteries, however.
Oh, dude.
I remember the days when I’d eat a stick of butter a day, pounds of meat from the lunch plan at work, and go to the doc — and he’d look at my bloodwork and say, “Whatever you’re eating, keep on eating it.”
My current sense of caution regarding lipids seems like a failure of will somehow. I’m hooked on vegetables.
It’s a disgrace. A crying shame.
I should never have eaten anything that wasn’t made out of cheese.
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