Yesterday being Mother’s Day, I had brunch with my family. Or rather, there was a slightly glorious cohesion of efforts between me, Lu & Dad that resulted in a meal of crepes with strawberries and whipped cream, and bacon. Warning: if you pile a crepe (flavored with amaretto because you did not have the “orange liqueur” that Julia Child called for) with strawberries & whipped cream and proceed to drizzle it with chocolate syrup, it moves from the realm of brunch to that of dessert. Try it. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Speaking of food, last night I was discussing Easter dinner with Katy, and how it was carefully arranged due to various eating habits of guests. Present were: 2 people who’d eat pretty much anything; 2 people who weren’t eating any dairy or gluten; one vegetarian; one vegan. I wouldn’t want to try & plan a meal like that, but it worked. Everything was delicious. And I would know, because I ate everything. Except when fasting, I’m not a picky eater. I don’t like a lot of beef, but if you serve it to me I’ll eat some. I don’t like breakfast sausages. I don’t like eggplant, so I’ll avoid it if it doesn’t look rude. I never have to worry about what I’ll be able to eat when I’m invited somewhere for dinner. What’s interesting to me is the number of people who choose dietary restrictions – of all kinds – for themselves. There’s nothing wrong with being a vegetarian or a vegan, and there are some good things about it, but…no. Not me. I’d rather try to be aware of where my food comes from, but basically just eat what’s good. Good for me or tasty. And go from there.

Um, that was NOT what I meant to blog about. I can’t really remember what I started out with in my head. I guess I’ll be back if I remember.