Pulled out my copy of M.F.K. Fisher's The Art of Eating, after a bit of discussion about it over at Paul's, I thought now might be a good time to re-read the entire thing. I've always paid more attention to Fisher's strange autobiographical revelations than to what she has to say about eating, but this time I'll read with more care all around.
I opened the book and this jumped out at me:
Almost every person has something secret he likes to eat.
Immediately, guiltily, I thought--what is my secret thing? What is it? Do I have one? There are the things I shouldn't eat, given that I'm supposedly allergic to both chocolate and peanuts, chocolate covered peanuts are always my vice of choice. Do I eat them in secret? Sometimes, not often. I have to or else everyone else would try to get some.
Fisher's own secret thing was sectioned, crackily, radiator-dried tangerines. I might have to try these. I've got radiators.
My other secret thing, or something that I've learned to keep secret, after many years of being harrassed about it, is braunschweiger. There was always a little braunschweiger in the refrigerator when I was growing up. I didn't know it was a source of disgust to so many people until much later in life.
I haven't bought any braunschweiger in at least three years, but, secretely, I'm going to slip out today and get some, along with a bag of tangerines.
I realize, if you tell me your secret thing, it wouldn't be a secret anymore, but snuggled in the tomb-like obscurity of my comments, it's the next best thing.
8:54:09 AM 
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