Slaughter of Tradition

My tendency to abandon tradition in the kitchen has become a more intensely practiced habit of late than in the past. Lately, breakfasts have been the subject of my passion for twisting what has long been socially accepted as satisfying and right into an initially uncomfortable aberration.  What I’ve done does not always amount to wholesale pillaging of traditional foods, though. Instead, I’ve just followed my taste buds along a parallel path.

Yesterday and today, for example, I had steel cut oats for breakfast.  Instead of flavoring them with sweets, e.g., sugar or dried fruits, I used sambal oeleek and soy sauce, which worked exceptionally well with the flavor of the oats.  Actually, I much prefer the savory version to the more typical stuff.

The popular refrain, “eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince, and dinner like a pauper,” is widely attributed to Adelle Davis, the popular nutritionist and author who advocated for unprocessed foods, among other dietary issues.  Regardless of who originated the phrase, it makes sense to me, though habits are sometimes hard to break.  Toward a modified version of the phrase, I’m thinking about turning my tradition of rather light breakfast, heavier lunch, and yet heavier dinner on its head, or at least on its ear.  Perhaps I’ll explore a somewhat heartier breakfast than I’ve been used to, arising as a prince.  Then, I’ll adorn myself with a crown for lunch, when I’ll have a feast fit for someone of my stature, then remove it and wear my tattered rags while I eat a spartan dinner.

This plan, of course, is subject to the approval of my favorite spouse. Without that, the plan collapses into a quivering bowl of soy-soaked oats.

My dinner last night, after having a Mexican food lunch at Tarasco’s in Dardenelle fit for three princes and two kings, consisted of a tin of King Oscar brand kippered herring, jazzed up with a little jalapeño paste, followed a bit later by the remnants of my wife’s dinner the night before, a small piece of New York strip steak. I didn’t need the steak; it was just wanton food-lust allowed to run amok.

Today’s lunch consisted of a tin of Ocean Prince brand kippered herring, jazzed up with a squirt or two of sriracha sauce, and the last remaining roma tomato. If I can persuade myself to continue on the path of last night’s dinner and today’s lunch, my walks and hikes and roaming around should be adequate to take off the pounds I need to lose.

I’d like to slaughter the tradition that has become so centrally ME: eating more than I need just because I enjoy the flavors.  I can enjoy the flavors without over-indulging in them, methinks.  Yes, time to slaughter that tradition.

This stream-of-consciousness blather brought to you by Idle Time in Retirement and Endless Desire to Exercise His Fingers.

 

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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