sea salt, Greek yogurt, and poached eggs--oh my

In this season of Thanksgiving, I find myself considering -- food.

Although that isn't, of course, the most important component:  the point is being thankful.  And we have to try to do that all year-around -- be thankful, and optimistic.  (If we don't, the bad guys may win....)

And since the traditional meal shared with family / friends is the centerpiece of our Celebration of Thankfulness -- back to food. ...

I feel like -- in our modern society -- we "beat up on" food.
This food will kill you;
that food will kill you;
and you'll die for sure if you don't make sure and eat this other food....

You need protein! -- Eat meat!
No meat!  Become a vegan!

Eggs are good for you!
Eggs are bad for you!
Eggs are good for you again! -- but eat them quickly before the trend evolves and they're bad for you again...!

Yogurt!
Frozen yogurt!
Greek yogurt!!

------------------ Was re-filling salt shaker at home with sea salt --
nnn-n-n-o-o-tt Actual Salt like we used to use.
Not old-fashioned heart attack-inviting Actual Salt,
Not dry-land, land-locked, land-lubbin' SALT-salt, but
Sea Salt.

Instead of being "politically correct," I'm -- uhrm -- saltily correct.  Spicily correct.  Nutritionality-correct....

I look back at all the food "trends" that have come-and-gone in my brief lifetime, and of course there were more before that and will continue to be more, and sometimes when --
pouring SEA salt into the shaker
and
POACHING (not frying) an egg,
I just have this mad urge
to run up onto the roof
and call loudly and strongly out into the darkness,
WHAT-IN-THE-HELL-IS-THE-DIFFERENCE???????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

= = = = = = = = = = =  In her "The Cat Who..." mysteries, the author Lilian Jackson Braun usually added food into the plots as part of the background color.  In The Cat Who Played Brahms, the main character Qwilleran's girlfriend Rosemary arrives at his north-country cabin:
-------- [excerpts]---------"...I'm going to stay here and cheer you up.  You've been too solitary, and you've probably been eating all the wrong food, and you've been spending too much time at the typewriter...."

Rosemary's vitality and dewy complexion and bright eyes were the result, she claimed, of eating the Right Food, some of which she had brought along in a cooler.  With the Right Food warming in the oven and the bearskin rug grinning on the hearth, the cabin felt homey and comfortable.  Koko walked across the cassette player, and they had music.

..."The pickax!  Where's the pickax?"  Qwilleran exclaimed, jumping to his feet.  "There was an antique pickax up there a week ago.  I don't know, Rosemary.  People walk in and out of this cabin like it's a bus terminal.  It's considered unfriendly to lock doors.  My good watch has disappeared and -- worst of all -- the gold pen you gave me.  And now the pickax is missing."

"Oh, dear," she said sympathetically.

"Everything around here is strange.  The police set up roadblocks just for fun.  Nobody has a last name.  There are footsteps on the roof in the middle of the night.  The cats spend all their time staring at the septic tank."

"Oh, Qwill, you must be exaggerating.  You're punchy from eating the wrong food."

"You think so?  Well, this is a fact:  Koko found a cassette hidden behind the moose head, with a threatening message recorded right in the middle of the music.  And when I went fishing, I hooked the body of a man."

Rosemary gasped.  "Who was it?"

"I don't know.  It went back to the bottom of the lake, and everybody tries to tell me it was an old rubber tire."

"Qwill, dearest, are you sure you're getting enough fresh fruit and vegetables?"

"You're like all the others," he complained, "but there was one person who believed me, and now he's dead, with his skull bashed in."

"Oh, Qwill!  Don't meddle with these things.  You might be in danger yourself."

"We'll see about that," he said.  "Let's eat.  But first I want to feed the cats...."

= = = = = = =
Qwilleran, on the other hand, was less than delighted with his late breakfast.  It consisted of a fresh fruit compote sprinkled with an unidentified powder resembling cement, followed by a cereal containing several mysterious ingredients -- some chewy, some gummy, some sandy.  He knew it was all the Right Food, and he consumed everything without comment but refused to give up his morning caffeine in favor of brewed herbs.

Rosemary said:  "I found some dreadful commercial rolls in your freezer, made with white flour and covered with sugary icing.  You don't want to eat that junk, Qwill dearest.  I threw them out."

[end excerpts]
--------------------------------
{excerpts -- The Cat Who Played Brahms, by Lilian Jackson Braun.  Copyright, 1987.  Jove, The Berkley Publishing Group, New York, New York.}

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