Constant Craving - My Style

(Dedicated, with affection, to Andrew, who inspired this).

When any of us dig into our "taste library," or our "foodbank," we all find those things that are just touchstones for us. Not necessarily good things, or comfort foods (I sort of think all food is comforting), but those foods and dishes that we find ourself "wanting" or, in a deeper sense, craving.

The stories of pregnant women craving certain foods while they carried their pregnancies are well documented, but I'm not using "craving" the same way. There's a whole body of evidence that says those cravings are brought about by the need for certain nutrients, or vitamins, and whatnot. A woman who is in severe need of iron, for example, finds herself craving spinach. And sometimes those cravings come across as needs for "non-foods." I remember reading a whole bunch of scientific articles about women who hate tremendous cravings for chalk while they were pregnant. Reason? They weren't drinking milk, because they didn't want to get TOO fat. No, the cravings I'm talking about reach deeper: they're like the "taproots" of our food memories, and we all DO have food memories.

I can sit down and eat an enormous meal of well prepared foods, enjoy each of them thoroughly, and come away lacking something, especially if I didn't eat some form of familiar starch during the meal. Pasta, bread, rice, will all do it, but pasta trumps all. Conversely, I could sit down and eat several pounds of sweet potatoes (which I DO love), and still be hungry: it's not a "familiar" starch for me, not a "lodestar". I find myself craving something else.

Not surprisingly, I find most of my cravings coming out of the things I remember Nana cooking for me, when I was very, very young. Chicken with toasted breadcrumbs and oregano (which I never make). Meatballs. Plain boiled spaghetti with garlic infused olive oil. Salad that I can eat with my fingers especially with slices of cucumber and lots of vinegar ("sometimes it's ok to eat with your hands, ragazzo. People had them before forks, you know." And my mother would shake her head and look away as we sat there and ate that wonderful salad by the handful). And then there are the cravings that come out of seasons. Christmas without cranberries isn't Christmas for me. And Easter without asparagus is unthinkable. Even if I DO have to get them from California (Easter is early this year and Peruvian asparagus may be all that's available. Stay tuned to see what I do, cause I dunno). But once we move into February, I don't need to see a cranberry for the rest of the year. And once July is upon us, as I say goodbye to the last stalk of "Jersey grass," as they call asparagus, I can wait for this good friend to come back in the spring.

Then there are the constant rituals of food that I treasure. My inspiration for this blog refers to the BF as his constant. Sitting down to a bowl of soup with mine (of 23 years. I guess that's more than a bf now, huh?) on Monday night, even if the soup on a particular night isn't very good. The "TGIF" glass of wine at home on Friday before we go out. Friends are visiting this weekend, and at some point, there WILL be macaroni and cheese. There always is. If there isn't some, we didn't get together.

The rituals are important. And you know what, as Ruth Reichl once wrote "it's not about the food." The weekend assignment: identify your food lodestars, your constants, and hold onto them. If it's caviar and blini, that's great. If it's MacDonald's on Wednesday for lunch, that's equally great. So is meatloaf from the corner diner. I hate to use this phrase, but "it's all good." Food that connects you to something bigger than nourishment, that feels good longer than it takes to swallow the mouthful, is more than food. Pay attention to these things. Medicine tells us that "food heals." I suspect that our pundits and PhD's don't know how right they are.