A Tosa resident since 1991, Christine walks the dog, raises kids, cooks but avoids housework, writes and reads, and works too much. A Quaker and
, she has been known to stand on both sides of the political and philosophic fence at the same time, which is very uncomfortable when you think about it. She writes about pretty much whatever stops in to visit her busy mind at the moment. One reader described her as "incredibly opinionated but not judgmental." That sounds like a good thing to strive for!
Then: On the first day of high school lo those many years ago, my dad, for whom food was love, sent me off with a hearty lunch designed to get me through the day.
Apparently he thought I was a stevedore, not a high school student.
Carefully wrapped in foil, which was aluminum though we called it "tin," was a huge sandwich, beefsteak rye with fried Spam (I know, but as God is my witness it was delicious); tomatoes, lettuce and mayonnaise.
There was an apple, if I recall, and a container of Shake-a-Pudding, the fastfood junk snack of the moment. You poured school milk from the waxed paper carton into the pudding powder, shook, and voila: chocolate pudding with bits of undissolved grit. I loved it.
However, it took me about three minutes to realize just how very, very wrong this lunch—and by extension, I--was.
The whippet-thin girls, the popular ones, each had a small yogurt and a piece of foil containing a half-inch square cube of cheese. This was before the same group came to consider a leaf of lettuce to be an entree.
We didn’t have soda in school back then. But if we had, they’d have been drinking Tab.
I gave up and started buying hot lunch, which was equally uncool but had the advantage of allowing me to shrug my shoulders and complain bitterly.
Now: From what I can pry out of the twins, kids at Tosa West are generally nicer now than kids at Nicolet were back then. Certainly, there's less humiliation through food. Though that might change, now that the school food police have banned fried potato chips in favor of their often more caloric and less satisfying baked cousins.
Still, my kids tell me that the new hot lunch program is better than the old on two out of three measures:
"It's cheaper and the quality's better. But it's the same old choice of burgers and pizza, pretty much," they said, almost in unison, which is a first.
Liz and George provide their own lunches and breakfasts. One of the few advantages of being a single parent is that you get to raise competent kids, if only because of your own failures to be able to be all things. This year, they’ll brown bag more but be glad of the school's subs when I’ve forgotten to stock the larder or they've awakened late.
The first day of school was different this year. George and Liz started at noon, so they slept as I headed into town. There were no pictures of two adorable little ones (they both tower over me now) in their new outfits standing in front of the linden tree.
But I did manage a hot breakfast for them, which made me feel delusions of good mothering for a moment or two.
I offer the recipe for Oatmeal Cookie Oatmeal to you now. Even non-oatmeal eaters love it. Make it the night before to warm up in the morning. Vary it as you will: it's a forgiving recipe. You can use less butter, substitute oil, throw in coconut. . . whatever floats your boat.
We eat it with nectarines and vanilla yogurt. Some use ice cream. Eat it any time of day.
Oatmeal Cookie Oatmeal (Baked Oatmeal)
INGREDIENTS:
3 cups oatmeal
3/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup butter, melted
2 eggs
2 cups milk
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon each cinnamon and vanilla extract (from the Spice House, of course)
Optional
3/4 C dried cherries (or raisins or a combination)
1/2 C chopped nuts
1 apple, grated or chopped
PREPARATION:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees Farenheit.
Mix all ingredients together and pour into 13 x 9 inch buttered pan.
Bake at 350 degrees for 40 minutes.
