To Thine Own Self, Be Food

First of all, one million spacebucks to the person who can tell me exactly what the difference is between the FDA and the USDA. About a year and a half ago, the USDA discarded the oft-revamped Food Pyramid and replaced it with this guy... As if the previous pyramid didn't confuzzle us enough with its distorted, convoluted rainbow-ray configuration, I would say the USDA's latest effort does a fair job at it as well.  And actually, I think I might feel insulted with the above diagram...while on the surface, it looks like a cute, colorful shape-sort puzzle...but as I ponder the wedge-shaped pieces, I realize, I have no idea what the pieces mean.  I. Don't. Understand. And that realization leads to other, scarier ones about government agencies.  But I digress. This MyPlate graphic here indicates that I should eat a large wedge shape full of vegetables every day, followed by a slightly smaller wedge shape of grains...and I dunno, a quick eyeball seems to conclude that

With the weather turning colder, chili is one of my family's favorite dishes.  Personally, I can eat it all year round, I can eat it sitting on the ground, I can eat it with a fox, I can eat it on a box... Wait.  I'm going all Seussical.  Let me bring you back to the topic at hand: Chili + my husband's Improvisational Cornbread = The Hallelujah Chorus But...strangely enough, the week's menu did not call for chili, nor cornbread, this week. Tonight's dinner was supposed to be Corn Casserole.  Brent was in charge of making it.  I'd left a note, pointing him to the specific recipe in the cookbook...because he gets very anxious if there's no recipe to follow.  But my mise en place was most certainly not en place today...but my husband manage to make it work anyway.  He is evolving! The Corn Casserole I'd planned originally called for two boxes of Jiffy cornbread mix and a can of yellow corn.  I had neither in the pantry.  Oops. So, Brent modified

It is very likely that I have an illness.  An addiction illness.  An addiction illness that compels me to get cookbooks every time I am near a place that sells or loans books. Even THOUGH, I have more than enough cookbooks on my shelves already...and there MORE than enough recipes in those cookbooks to keep me occupied three meals a day/seven days a week/fifty-two weeks of the rest of my life.  When I bought my first cookbook (not received as a wedding gift), a conversation with my husband went like this: Me (with fervent excitement): Hey, look at this!  I got a new cookbook today!  Whee! Him (with equal excitement): Great!  You'll make lots of amazing food with that! But years later... Me: (with fervent excitement): Hey, I got a neeeeeeeew cookbook today!  Whee! Him:  Er.  Yes.  Okay. But I don't let him stomp on my parade.  It makes me happy and it's less expensive and damaging than an addiction to methamphetamines.  So I carry on. Imagine how happy I am t