Today, I was about to sit and write about a little train of thought that had been following me around this week. I thought I had some more serious things I wanted to discuss, including returning to the subject I raised in To She Who Loves Us Before She Meets Us, on the consequences of taking away women’s power in the birthing of babies. But, I figured I would just tap out this other idea first even though I was questioning its relevance, significance, and general cohesiveness.

I had planned on talking about the very interesting work of an old friend of mine, whom I had recently reconnected with. Quite coincidentally, just as I had cleared away my other duties of the day and was gearing up for a mid-afternoon snack to fortify my writing, I got an email from this very friend, asking if I had seen Mark Bittman’s tofu recipe in the NY Times today. She sent me the link.

After returning from snacking, cleaning the cat litter box, emptying the compost and bringing in the spring water, I curled back up on my computer and found myself in the Dining and Wine section of the Wednesday Times. I did not see the tofu recipe but was quickly sucked in by a few other articles.

One was about a spontaneously created cafe in the Hurricane Irene flood-ravaged town of Schoharie, NY. My life was touched by the hurricane so the story of survival in nearby Schoharie is meaningful to me. Miraculously, food prepared and provided by angels from near and far has swirled its way into the town, first amassing under a cluster of trees and then with the coming of winter at a local DAR Hall. These offerings give those whose homes and lives were affected a free lunch and a sense of continued community. Just as spontaneously as this epicenter of nourishment created itself, so did a sign that named the cafe, Loaves and Fishes.

Next, was an amusing piece about a vegetarian New Yorker on assignment in the Midwest–the meat capital of the country; and, also–though still no mention of tofu–a Mark Bittman editorial on the decrease of meat consumption in the past few years. Of course, those would speak to me.

Just as I was about to get back to work, one more thing caught my attention. By the time I hit the publish button tonight, this may already be old news to you, but apparently, Hostess Foods is declaring bankruptcy and the fate of the Twinkie is in serious jeopardy. Before my eyes, I could tell the food world was in a tizzy. The article, musing about a world without Twinkies, actually interviewed a renowned baker and pastry chef who I know from my own little community. That seemed silly. What would he have to say about Twinkies?

Image via Wikipedia

But for me? Don’t I have to say something academic, relevant or amusing about the Twinkie affair? And, don’t I have to say it really soon or my writings will be considered as fresh as a stale pastry? Unlike Twinkies, my words do not contain the ingredients that will ensure their shelf life into the next millennium. Instead, they will be moldy by Monday. Well, here it is. You have heard it here probably second, third or fourth. I have no quick or witty assessment of the situation and I will probably defer to those who do. Like to Michael Pollan discussing Twinkies vs. Carrots.

It is a dilemma that stories from the food, nutrition and eating world amass very quickly. My queue of articles that I want to address or reference gets longer and longer every day. Pete saves podcasts for me or reads me articles straight from his Kindle; friends from afar send me links to interesting or absurd articles; radio stories infiltrate my driving commute; my professional networks post really relevant material; and, blogs I follow are deserving of mention. On top of that are the real-life stories that I am privileged to hear from my clients every day. No story is purely personal. There is always a larger cultural context such as explored in this powerful and sensitive NPR story about a woman’s struggle to lose weight. There is much to react to. I cannot keep up.

So, for now, I must continue at my own small-town pace. I thank you for your patience. I’ll get back to the piece that includes my old friend, a Mayan elder– and, actually, now that I think about it, it may have everything to do with Twinkies; back to the mommas–and, as I have promised before–all the menopausal women. Time for dinner.

In Health,  Elyn–A once upon a time Twinkie eater. How about you?

Related Post: Faur, Faur Away

my plate

My Plate Haiku

Spread peanut butter

On whole grain sweet dark bread

Raspberry jam-yum.

by Barb–who is currently doing an Ayurvedic cleanse and dreaming of this.