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In Defense of "Red"
Not being much in the kitchen, I am always surprised when people give me cookbooks and food books as presents, and I wonder if there is a hint I'm not taking to heart or if these are presented with extreme optimism. It isn't that I have a black apron, and I do like baking and often use it as a way of calming down. (The night my terrier spent in the Animal Medical Center, I spent many hours creating an epic 9-Lemon Lemon Pound Cake that my husband remembers fondly, while living in fear that I'll be moved to try it again. I can only say this in my defense: beware the recipe that uses the word "meanwhile" more than twice. You will be segmenting the flesh of 9 lemons at two in the morning.)
So it was a couple of years after I received it that I happened to flip through Ari Weinszweig's Zingerman's Guide to Good Eating and there I saw a little squib he wrote called "the story of purple popsicles" (no caps, please). In this little yarn, he talks about his friend's son, Leo, joyously eating a purple popsicle and when questioned, the child said that the popsicle's flavor was purple. "Like a purple magic marker." Weinszweig uses his story as a way to illustrate how deeply connected flavors and smells are for us (Weinszweig operating on the principle that the markers the kid was talking about must have been the scented ones). Now, Weinszweig doesn't go so far as to say that the purple popsicle represents proof that the Devil is walking on earth in our supermarkets, but he clearly prefers food that is what it is, pure and real and his tone suggests that the ersatz flavors "Purple" "Red" "Yellow" "Green" "Orange" that I remember from the old 5-Flavor Life Saver packages (don't go looking for them now, you can only find hideous new flavors) are bad, not real, distractions from the Platonic ideals that nature offers us: real grape, real cherry, real lemon, real lime, real orange. But the child indeed knew the difference. He asked for "Purple" not "Grape" because those two things are different in his mind. He is not confused. He is smart.
And here I must admit to something that those who know me know too well: I love candy. It is beautiful. I love the classy formality of Good n' Plenty's pink and white tablets, the jewel colors of Jujyfruit, the funny disks my father says taste like spackle that are Necco Wafers. It's in my blood, I'm afraid. I'm not highbrow about it or fancy. I'm a little ashamed of how unsophisticated my tastes are and I know exactly how ridiculous I look with a Charms lollypop hanging out of my mouth, but I can't, I really can't see the evil in confections.
So much beauty, so much pleasure can't possibly be a crime, can it? Not even if I insist on moderation and tooth brushing? I can't be doomed to be the bad mother who allows candy, the sneak mother who keeps her private stash of treats hidden in the flour canister, or the hated "do as I say, not as I do" mom who lets her kid know what he's missing.
It's Halloween time and my husband has taken to asking if I'm "frolicking in the Autumn Mix" whenever he calls and he can tell I've been gnawing on that compelling combination of candy corn, "Indian corn" and Pumpkins. I just placed my order at Economy Candy (I don't have time to go over there this year and it's both easier than having to remember to go shopping and their 10-pound bag of assorted stuff for trick-or-treaters is better delivered than carried home). I love the holiday and all its promise and I can't bring myself to be the person who gives out real fruit snacks and pencils, as virtuous as I know that would be.
I've been talking about food so much lately, and I know I'm not alone in wondering what to feed my child and questioning my practices. This doesn't apply now, but I want him to know the pleasures of treats, the beauties of foods- mostly wholesome but occasionally not so much- and not feel that there are two categories of food: Save and Virtuous or Poisonous and Evil.
Felix's first sweet taste was of a late summer white peach, one of the most exquisite flavors I can imagine. He will know what strawberries and apples, raspberries and Bing cherries taste like. But I suspect he'll come to know and understand the flavor of "Red," and I doubt he'll forsake the fruit for it.
posted by Elise at 10:52 AM
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parodie said...
I certainly have a weakness for candy, especially the kind that seem to be pure sugar (skittles, nerds, and their ilk). I aim to be reasonable, but it is clear that as a society moderation isn't exactly where we excell.
I would worry a lot more about feeding children fast food than I would about feeding them the occassional candy. "Everything in moderation including moderation", right? A treat is not something to be feared but rather to be enjoyed and savoured for what it is.
10/23/2005 11:47 AM
Elise said...
Indeed. One also has less the feeling of supporting some sort of cruel empire when one buys, say Candy Corn or Good n' Plenty or the like than when one walks into one of the big fast food chains. But then again, I am the girl who became utterly unbearable after I read Fast Food Nation.
10/24/2005 8:18 AM
said...
I spent quite a lot of time today pondering the significance of sugar, food choices, and motherhood. I don't know why it hung me up for so long. It's strange how we feel the strong need to justify what & why we eat & subsequently how we feed our young. One might argue that fathers don't do this, but then fathers don't breastfeed & rarely take on the responsibility of feeding the family. I hope that my worries are not passed to my son through his food as we begin his foray into solids. I want our meals to be full of grace, not concern.
10/24/2005 11:58 PM
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2/06/2007 7:33 PM
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2/15/2007 11:38 AM
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