Photos: Food and Me

At certain times of your life, you find yourself doing foolish things.  Like vowing to make a new recipe every week for a year, or looking back at your family’s photo albums.  You know that I’ve done the first one.  The other day, I did the second. After being horrified by the way I looked as a child, an adolescent, and a post-adolescent, I was amused to see that, in my adult life, practically every third picture taken of me has involved cooking or food. Not that they aren’t horrifying too, but I think they say something fundamental about me.  Here are some examples (crummy quality, many of them, which are digital photos of ancient conventional and Polaroid prints)..

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I admit, I didn’t make my own wedding cake:

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Tom and I always enjoyed wok cooking:

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Once I roasted quails in a friend’s kitchen:

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Food shopping with Joan at Campo dei Fiori, Rome:

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We were pleased with this handsome roasted suckling pig:

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One day, at someone else’s home, I got “volunteered” to peel a lot of asparagus:

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We couldn’t survive without our pasta machine:

Photo by Steven Mays

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Here I’m tired out from too much cooking:

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And here I’m taking a refreshment break (in Zihuatanejo, Mexico):

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Making another suckling pig ready for the oven, while Joe watches:

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For a book photo, we pretended to be Ceres and Bacchus:

Photo by Steven Mays

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Pastiera making for Easter, with Amy and Michele:

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Here I’m serving Jane my pastries at my 40th wedding anniversary party:

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These next two pictures are of us retesting one of our recipes for our mini ecookbook, Not the Same Old Spaghetti Sauce:

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A lovely seafood lunch on the shore in Barcelona, October 2012

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It’s drink rather than food, but this bottle of 2002 Piper-Heidsieck Brut Cuvee Rare that a friend gave us – with specific instructions to drink it on New Year’s Eve – was a very near thing to ambrosia, that legendary food of the gods. The bottle came with a gilt filigree casing actually meant to be removed and worn as a tiara, and so I did.

 

At this garden party, we seem to be trying to figure out what the item on my hors d’oeuvre plate is.