On the waistline, in this case!
Well zu gesund. Like the late Allan Sherman wrote in one of his ditties “let my diet start tomorrow, for today I drown my sorrow in a double malted milk.”
Theologically I’m Christian. But gastronomically I think Judaism has it down pat. No Baptist supper was ever like that.
In follow up on our war-induced food glut, this morning my wife loaded up a shopping cart with most of our stash, walked down the hill with it, brought the goodies to the “Pina Bachama,” a comfort station for soldiers, and donated it. The troops were very happy to receive it and thanked her. We still have a lot, but are no longer overwhelmed, and we’ve done something for the boys and girls in green.
I’m going to take it back about the Baptist supper... I was at one this evening that really was grand, if not that lush. It was a traditional American style turkey dinner. First one I’ve had at a church that wasn’t on paper plates, actually. It was at this medium size Baptist church in a hick town of Maryland, where I, er, sojourneth.
But in general it’s very hard to beat that old Yiddishe cooking.