Confessions of a Picky Eater

Growing up, I wouldn’t eat sandwiches. I hated them. The only thing I would eat between two slices of bread was peanut butter. Not peanut butter and jelly, not peanut butter and honey. Just peanut butter. And for me to eat a peanut butter sandwich, the sandwich had to be just right. No crust, not too much peanut butter, just right. I was what you might call a picky eater.

Via

Most of my meals consisted of the handful of items I deemed good enough to eat. Usually, those items were snack foods, much to my parents’ dismay. Moving into a house of my own, with limited food funds available, my picky eating habits changed drastically. Suddenly, things I had never tried before became staples in our household…and this included sandwiches.

I began my love affair with sandwiches in spring of 2007, when my soon-to-be husband dragged me into a Subway for the First. Time. Ever. I went, kicking and screaming the whole way, which for me is more like some serious pouting. As we approached the counter to order, my pouting powers were in full swing, but they were useless against my man’s sandwich cravings. I surrendered helplessly to the Sandwich Artist and ordered a toasted ham and cheese with black olives, fully expecting to hate the thing and eat only the bag of Cheetos that came with my meal.

Alas, it was love at first bite.

From that moment on, my sandwiches became larger and more experimental. I added onions to the next order. And then green peppers to the next. At home, I tried exotic fairs like Spam sandwiches and grilled Pimena cheeses. With each bite, I became more enamored with the sandwich; it seemed that my hatred of sandwiches had left the building and with it so had my finicky eating habits.

Sandwiches were just the tip of the iceberg of what I’d been missing out on with food. Turns out there was an entire world that I hadn’t tasted. Things like homemade macaroni and cheese entered my life. Previously, I had believed that the best version of mac ‘n’ cheese was out of a blue box. Little did I know that there was something as wonderful and creamy as the homemade variety. It seems almost silly to say such things now, but my Mama and Daddy can readily corroborate the fact that I was unmoving in my picky eating habits and could never be convinced to try something new.

This was a point of much frustration with them. Try as they might, they could never make me understand just what I was missing out on. Now, they are simply amazed that I eat things like turnip greens and sausage gravy, broccoli casserole and cole slaw. Even nearly five years after my “food awakening,” they still look at me with amazement when I order something like chicken and dumplings or a roast beef and cheddar sub.

I’m woman enough to now publically admit that they were right. All of those years misspent missing out on such great foods fill me with regret and sadness. Mama and Daddy, I should’ve listened to you earlier; you were wise in your knowledge of food. I was wrong. You can gloat later, but for now, I can tell you just how glad I am that I’m a proper Southern eater. Just last weekend, as I was enjoying a homemade biscuit with my Mawmaw’s pear preserves (which in another lifetime I would have never even tried), I counted the many blessings in my life, not the least of which are the great Southern meals I can now enjoy.

Are you (or were you) a picky eater? Do you have a picky eater in your life?

Beans, Greens, and Good Luck, 2012

I've been lucky enough to be off work for the last week and a half. I've been unlucky enough to be sick for the majority of that time off. That's life, I guess. Ups and downs, bad luck, good luck; it's all part of One Mixed Bag (which also happens to be one of my favorite blogs, shout-out, Bernie!).

We're starting our next year off the same way, too. Instead of eating a traditional Southern New Year's feast of black-eyed peas, greens, pork chops, and cornbread, we're substituting butter beans for the peas and mac-n-cheese for the meat. We can't ever do things quite like everyone else, after all. Plus, being so sick I haven't had a chance to get to the grocery store and get the items for our normal meal. I've come to terms with this...mostly. I'm Irish and pretty superstitious, so I struggled with the fact that the traditional luckiness of the black-eyed peas would be skipping us this year, but as superstitious as I am about a lot of things, I still believe that you make your own luck most of the time without any aid at all from legumes.

Not-So-Traditional

2011 was filled with its share of bad days and of good for the Ross family. I'm not particularly ready to bid it farewell, anymore than I've been about any year before it, but I'm not saddened to see it pass either.  Like our meal today, a year is what you make it. It might be a cheesy theme song, but The Facts of Life had it right. "You take the good; you take the bad."

As 2011 comes to an end, I'm grateful for the love of family, the relative prosperity that surrounds us, the roof over our heads, and the simple things, like this blog and the wonderful friends it has brought me. I dream of a New Year that yields more writing opportunities, that sees my husband through college, that brings my parents a happy and peaceful retirement, that overwhelms my sister with happiness, that delivers improved health for loved ones. I hope for all of these things, all while remembering the things we already have, the things we're already grateful for.

In 2012, there will be more ups and down, more bad and good days; that's life for you. One Mixed Bag of joy and sorrow, happiness and regret, but I wouldn't trade my mixed bag for anything in the world.

Happy New Year!

What do you dream of for the New Year? Do you have any New Year's traditions like "peas and greens"?

Happy Hallothanksmas!

Time flies. Christmas will be here before you know it. It’s officially forty-six days until the big day, and we all know those forty-six days will fly by in a whirlwind of shopping, baking, and gift wrapping. We’ll all blink, and it’ll be Thanksgiving, and then, we’ll blink again, and it’ll be Christmas. The old cliché “as slow as Christmas” just doesn’t seem to apply anymore. Christmas is fast, folks, and with each passing year, it only seems to get faster. But where does the time go? It’s the great rhetorical question of the century and, apparently, one of life’s great mysteries.  

In an effort to not blink away this fleeting and rare time just before the holidays begin for real, I thought I would record some of my favorite parts of the moments in between candy binge and turkey binge, otherwise known as Halloween and Thanksgiving.  Without a doubt, this is one of my favorite times of the year.  The excitement for the holidays starts building early, and I find myself in a perpetual state of happiness for nearly the entire months of November and December. I’m pretty despicable.

Part of my happiness is due to the weather. In the South, the time in between Halloween and Thanksgiving is neither too hot nor too cold. As Goldilocks would say, it’s just right, just the right amount of fall breeziness mixed with just the right amount of beautiful golden leaves and vast and impossibly blue autumn sky. It’s the recipe for perfect weather: light-jacket weather, sweatshirt and jeans weather, football weather, homemade potato soup and chili weather. Don’t you just love it? You should probably stop reading this right now, throw on a light jacket, and go play in some leaves. You’re never too old to play in a pile of leaves, right?

Perfect weather aside, this time of year also brings us the underappreciated and often ignored in-between holiday of Veteran’s Day.  I really hate that holidays like Memorial Day and Veteran’s Day don’t get more attention than they do. They are, after all, honoring and memorializing the heroes and heroines of our country, but let’s face it; patriotism is not what it used to be. I only hope that as new generations grow up to lead our country that some of that lost patriotism is restored. To my brave father and my late PawPaw, I’m proud of all that you did to support our country and our freedoms, and at this time of year especially, I am reminded of the sacrifices you made, and others still make, for love of country, and I thank you.

Undoubtedly, there are a lot of things to love about this time of year: the weather, Veteran’s Day, oyster stew on Friday nights, soft blankets and cats to cuddle, dark and chilly nights with mugs of hot chocolate, and the first few glimpses of the joyful season to come. Speaking of that joyful season, my husband and I made our first Thanksgiving grocery store trip on Sunday. I stocked up on pumpkin and cinnamon and crescent rolls, gleefully planning my contributions to the family Thanksgiving meal. I can’t decide who is more excited: me about the cooking or Jeremy about the eating.

But as excited as we may be, we must remember not to wish away this precious time in between. Time already flies by, instead of wishing for Thanksgiving and Christmas to get here quickly, we should cherish the anticipation, the looking forward to family and friends and togetherness. Oh, and the food…we should never forget to look forward to the food. 

What do you love most about this time "in between"?

Author's Note: This was written in response to The Lightning and the Lightning Bug's "Time of the Season" prompt. You have until Wednesday to link up. Come visit us! 

Steroids, or Why I've Lost All My Joy for Food and Life

I'm never sick. Like freakishly NEVER sick. One of those people you hate because while the rest of the world is hacking their head off, I'm sitting pretty enjoying clear breathing and snotless nights. Having said all of that, however, you can officially hate me no more, because this year I've been sick twice. And not just normal, I have a cold sick, nope, I've been laid up in bed, miserable, wondering why I ever gloated that I never get sick in the first place, sick. Sick sick.

Right now, my being sick is not the most annoying part of being sick. Nope, that award goes to STEROIDS and ANTIBIOTICS. Antibiotics is an enemy I'm familiar with. Yep, I'm familiar with the fact that they make my stomach a churning mess and take away all of taste-buds, and I've pretty much come to terms with that. No, I don't like it, but I can deal with it. What I can't deal with is the fact that on top of having my stomach torn up, having my taste-buds stripped away, these damn steroids have made me ANGRY about it all. So now my husband lives in fear of me, my cats hide whenever I enter a room, and the previous joy I received from having food to look forward to everyday is GONE.

This too shall pass, but until it does, my blog posts will revolved around "angry white woman" themes and will have little entertainment value and merit.

That is all.