I've been eating a lot of spinach

This year we got a family share with our CSA. It seemed like a good idea. We always ran short last year and bought extras so this year we thought we'd go for the full family share. And that would be great. But the boys are out of town.

What does this mean? you ponder, as I did. It means a hell of a lot of fucking spinach for me to eat.

Last week we got two pounds of spinach. But I was out of town for the weekend. So that means that yesterday after the doctor (which they still don't know what's wrong with me, oh joy!) I came home and cooked 2 pounds of spinach down to 1 pound. Then a dressed it with soy and raw sugar and sesame seeds. And I ate some for lunch. And dinner. And lunch again today. And this was after I ate a salad of watercress (yuck!) last week and a whole lot of asparagus.

So what you wonder? Who cares? Well the thing is that my body is not reacting well to this much roughage. Actually I think even my skin is beginning to be tinged green. Or that could be the illness. Or both. And I just got the email that says, oh joy! more spinach tomorrow. Fuck me running!

The Chocolate Bar

I came to Boston for Mother's Day since the boys are back on Semester at Sea (without me which bites hugely). As we were planning the trip, my mom and I, she suggested we go to a Chocolate Brunch which they have at a very chi-chi hotel here in this lovely city. I thought, sure! I love mole, cocoa dusted scallops, and what a neat way to see how chefs get creative.

Wrong. A Chocolate Brunch is not a brunch at all. It's a dessert bar. With about five thousand different sickeningly sweet options. At first when faced with the Willy Wonka option, one feels dazzled and enthused. There was a crepe bar, make your own chocolate bar, cannolis, tarts, tortes, caramels, and pies. At the center was a fountain of chocolate in which you could dip pretzels, fruit, cake, and of course chocolate. Table after table was laden with sweets. Now to begin with I am not that much a chocolate person. I know so sue me. But since I don't get PMS (it's not that nice an option, ladies, I don't make any natural hormones so enjoy the PMS because it's better than what I've got.)

Diligently, my mom and I got a plate. I got a chocolate coconut torte piece, a salted caramel, a piece of guava paste (the only non chocolate item save the vanilla ice cream), a which chocolate carrot cake cupcake, a white chocolate fruit tart and a mini chocolate pecan tartlet. I then proceeded to have one bite of each. At that point I was overwhelmed with the knowledge that if I had a lot more of this I would have a sugar crash that was akin to the spaceship Discovery. So I went to the crepe bar to get a crepe with some fruit.

But the crepes were all chocolate. With chocolate in them. Or nutella. Which is chocolate. I could already feel the sugar high beginning to make me queasy, but there was pressure to eat because it was $40 a person. So I headed to the ice cream section where I managed to locate vanilla ice cream. Which sucked. I was assured by one geriatric woman the chocolate ice cream was much better. DAMN chocolate!!! Even the freaking cotton candy was chocolate dipped.

I decided to try to go back to the other tables. I'd seen some fruit there. But even these were so sweet they made your teeth hurt. So I ordered a chamomile tea with lime and called it a dessert.

But here's the baffling thing. We were surrounded by people who had brought children. Now call me crazy but bringing small children to candyland is asking for trouble. It's a little like adding jet fuel to a paper airplane. It's going to work great for a short amount of time and then you are bound for explosion and destruction. On our way out, I over hear a woman apologizing to her mother or mother in law that little Reginald (not his real name) was usually such a sweet well behaved child. She just didn't understand what had gotten into him. Maybe it was all the excitement. No you dumb bitch! Maybe it was the toddler PCP equivalent: chocolate.