Food is Happiness

I’m obsessing about food lately and I realized that my new found interest in it is making me happy. Which of course reminded me of Proust and his damn madeleines, although I do love madeleines, and all that food-as-memory stuff. I’ve been having a fraught time lately, and I just realized that the reason I’ve bought Braunschweiger three times in three weeks is that it reminds me of my relatives shoving fat on bread at me in times of stress. Also Braunschweiger (aka liverwurst, aka goose liver), although sounding and looking horrible, is delicious. I’ve even found a pate recipe using it to so I can upgrade my obsession persona from German peasant to snooty upscale German peasant.

Where was I?

Right, madeleines and memory, food is happiness. The right food at the right time in the right place? That’s ecstasy, but just food in general, well prepared and right in front of you? Come on, that’s always smile-worthy.

How were you consumed by (or just consumed) happiness this week?