As a frustrated author I often have "why didn’t I come up with this" moments when I pick up a new book. There are some ideas that are just sooo obviously "me" that I can’t believe I was such a dolt as to let someone else get it down on paper first. In fact, are you sure I didn’t think of that idea first…?
The latest book to hit me in the solar plexus (not literally, fortunately) is Giulia Melucci’s food-infused memoir I loved, I lost, I made spaghetti (Macmillan Australia). This deliciously funny and sometimes poignant tale is Giulia’s account of her dating history, the dishes she used to seduce the men in her life and the comfort food she consoled herself with after her relationships fizzled out – with recipes!
I may never have tried to earn a man’s love by making his mother’s meat loaf or sat alone eating Angel Hair Pasta with Asparagus while waiting for my alcoholic boyfriend to stagger in drunk, again, but for me, food and relationships do go hand in hand.
From those first getting-to-know-you dinner dates (What do you mean, you don’t eat any vegetables?) to the first time I cook a meal for someone, the early stages of my relationships tend to revolve around food. Sure, everyone has to eat, but eating and drinking together is one of those shared experiences that bind people together. Think of all the times you’ve caught up with friends and family in the last month and then take away all the ones that didn’t involve sharing a meal, coffee or glass of something refreshing. Slim pickings indeed.
Like Giulia, I’ve come to associate specific dishes with specific people. Since I came out of a defacto relationship a few years ago, I’ve retired a whole heap of recipes that used to be regulars in my repertoire. I don’t miss them. Another ex of mine shall forever be associated with fried spring rolls (cha gio) after he ordered them at every meal – breakfast, lunch and dinner - of our two-week holiday together in Vietnam. And I’ve certainly eaten my share of F***-You Cakes (and slices and biscuits and Guylian shells) when a relationship’s gone belly up.
I’ve never been someone to wax lyrical about chocolate (or Brown Brothers’ 2006 Patricia Noble Riesling, as I heard someone do the other day) by saying “it’s better than sex” but in as much as both food and sex are better when “prepared” with love, why try to deny the connection?
The latest book to hit me in the solar plexus (not literally, fortunately) is Giulia Melucci’s food-infused memoir I loved, I lost, I made spaghetti (Macmillan Australia). This deliciously funny and sometimes poignant tale is Giulia’s account of her dating history, the dishes she used to seduce the men in her life and the comfort food she consoled herself with after her relationships fizzled out – with recipes!
I may never have tried to earn a man’s love by making his mother’s meat loaf or sat alone eating Angel Hair Pasta with Asparagus while waiting for my alcoholic boyfriend to stagger in drunk, again, but for me, food and relationships do go hand in hand.
From those first getting-to-know-you dinner dates (What do you mean, you don’t eat any vegetables?) to the first time I cook a meal for someone, the early stages of my relationships tend to revolve around food. Sure, everyone has to eat, but eating and drinking together is one of those shared experiences that bind people together. Think of all the times you’ve caught up with friends and family in the last month and then take away all the ones that didn’t involve sharing a meal, coffee or glass of something refreshing. Slim pickings indeed.
Like Giulia, I’ve come to associate specific dishes with specific people. Since I came out of a defacto relationship a few years ago, I’ve retired a whole heap of recipes that used to be regulars in my repertoire. I don’t miss them. Another ex of mine shall forever be associated with fried spring rolls (cha gio) after he ordered them at every meal – breakfast, lunch and dinner - of our two-week holiday together in Vietnam. And I’ve certainly eaten my share of F***-You Cakes (and slices and biscuits and Guylian shells) when a relationship’s gone belly up.
I’ve never been someone to wax lyrical about chocolate (or Brown Brothers’ 2006 Patricia Noble Riesling, as I heard someone do the other day) by saying “it’s better than sex” but in as much as both food and sex are better when “prepared” with love, why try to deny the connection?
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