I am a curious eater.  I don’t mean curious as in inquiring (though I can be that too).  I mean curious as in perplexing.  At least to myself.  I mentioned in the previous post that I will try anything and relish almost everything.  This stands contrary to my eating habits as a little girl.  I was one of those PICKY EATERS.

Noooo!!!  Yes.  I wouldn’t eat vegetables.  Peas, for instance.  I remember a dinner at Grandma Hazel’s house, where my Aunt Marjorie was pushing me to eat my peas along with everything else.  I was resistant.  She kept pushing.  After a while, I fixed her squarely with a determined eye, counted a few peas with my fork, and ate them purposefully.  Then I said, “Ok, Aunt Margie, are you happy now?”  That brought down the house. 

I was fond of eating meat fat then too.  There were many suppers in the trailer where I trimmed off the steak fat and shoved the rest over to my dad, the human garbage compactor.  He ate whatever I didn’t.  My favorite comfort dish was chicken and rice, that’s it.  A pretty boring childhood palate, which is not uncommon.

Another part of this equation was my mom’s food co-op.  She ran a co-op while I was in grade school for extra money on the side.  Wholesome food split up for cheap among co-op members.  Members checked off what they wanted on a sheet and brought it in. 

So while I was a picky eater who gravitated toward sweets like any other child, there was also an underlying element of healthy.  My mother believes a lot can be prevented and fixed with proper nutrition.    There was usually brewer’s yeast stored in the fridge. 

I believe the same, but my taste buds run rampant.  I like healthy and wholesome, as long as it tastes good.  I don’t eat vegan cardboard.  But I have had much in the way of nutritious and delicious.  One of my favorite dishes during college days (err, second college days) was a vegan antipasto from Café Za in Alfred, NY.  Full of spicy oniony black beans, brown rice, and vinegared kale.  I was also fond of japanese food from a place called Nana’s, my first encounter with a bento box.  It was fresh, tasty, and healthy.  Tofu, yum.  I have also tried the offhand wonky diet, just to see how my body reacts. I ate figs, nuts, and seeds once for a day.  I went back to eating the usual Marie sludge the next day.

I can’t help it.  Healthy is not my default all the time.  I can’t be virtuous, I love hot dogs and bacon too much.  And cupcakes.  Eating wholesomely 24/7 makes me want to dive into a vat of mac-n-cheese.  Boxed mac-n-cheese.  Mea culpa, nutrition gods. 

But the thing is, I keep flirting with the idea of living wholesomely.  My pie-in-the-sky idea is to become a domestic goddess who cans fruit in her country cottage (Thanks, Grandma.  I love you, Martha Stewart).  That flirtation is based on one cookbook:  Laurel’s Kitchen.  This was a staple in my mom’s cookbook collection.  She has the old version in paperback.  It is still kickin’ around, but I doubt she uses it anymore.  She brought me down a copy with her last visit.  I have flirted with other cookbooks along these lines, like the More-With-Less Cookbook and Diet for a Small Planet.  Plus all those numerous Moosewood cookbooks. But Laurel’s Kitchen gives good story.  Good atmosphere.  Good philosophy.  You want to be in her kitchen baking bread with her and talking about the merits of this bean versus that bean.  I obsessively read this book one summer at the Madison-Bouckville Antiques Show while helping out on Mom’s set up.  It had me in its whole-grain grip. 

I still have a crapload of whole-wheat flour in my fridge from making that pizza.  Its gonna go bad soon.  I was hemming and hawing this past week.  How can I use it up the fastest?  I immediately thought of Laurel’s Kitchen and her recipe for whole-grain bread.  It takes 6 CUPS!

But I did mention my impatience with yeasty processes, right?  I have made bread from this cookbook before, and it came out a dense football.  Ugh.  So what else?  What else can I make?   

Paging through the book, I noticed a recipe for chapathis.  Ok.  No yeasty process. It doesn’t use all the flour up, but I can make crackers and tortillas later on.  I have never made those either.  Who has ever made crackers?  Anyone?  A show of hands? 

Anyway, I tried out the chapathis.  They didn’t come out like I thought they would.  They came out like giant wheat crackers.  I made crackers after all!  I tried all sorts of things, rolling thinner, turning up the heat, turning down the heat, etc.  I wanted to run out and kidnap a passing Indian grandmother. 

Looking on the internet, I saw images of chapathis ROLLED around food. This cookbook is laughing at me once again.  Nyah-nyah, go make a recipe from Rachael Ray, you suck.

But I have never had so much fun making something that turned out wrong.  All I ever see on food blogs are the recipes that turn out lusciously correct with the requisite food porn photos.  I am breaking the rules, mwahaha!!! And I am delighting in it!  Here is my little photo documentary:

My first puff.

Multiple puffs. I am starting to feel like Puff Mommy.

Too many burns for my taste.

Is it going to puff?

Puff already!!!

Mr. Big Puff

Puff schnozz.  I look like a Muppet.

I hope you enjoyed my pufftacle!  Now to figure out dinner.