I’m not sure if it’s my hillbilly heritage or some age-related chink in my chromosomes, but my life now revolves around food. I’ve read that most men spend a lot of time thinking about money, careers, politics, and sex. That might have been true when I was younger, but now I think about BBQ, bagels, and any kind of meat on a stick.
On the mornings when Jilda and I head into the city I usually ask, “Where are we eating lunch?” Even though it’s only 8 a.m., it never seems too early to be thinking about food.
We bought a membership to COSTCO, not because you can buy a year’s worth of paper towels and TP cheaply, but because you can buy wild salmon, organic blueberries, brick-sized chunks of cheese, and apple-smoked bacon in four-pound packs. We go to COSTCO for the food.
When you mention protein shakes for breakfast, most people roll their eyes and yawn. But Jilda has turned morning shakes into an art form.
Several years ago we bought a blender that she used to whip up shakes that tasted better than the ones we bought at Mug ‘n Cone Drive-In when we were dating.
Then last year Jilda saw a spot on QVC for a Vitamix. When she pitched the idea to me I was all for it until I saw the price tag. “We could get a swimming pool cheaper than that,” I said flippantly.
She was persistent in her pursuit and emailed me links to Vitamix videos, and other promotional information on the device.
But in my capacity as the resident cheapskate, I was unmoved so she took off the gloves. Recently, when the QVC channel featured Vitamixes, the remote control somehow disappeared. Also, dinner seemed to be contingent upon me watching the pitch.
I could smell the aroma of dinner wafting through the house so my defenses were down.
Sitting there, I watched as they whipped up a batch of cheese and broccoli soup, which happens to be my favorite. The woman popped the ingredients into the device and turned that baby on high. In about five minutes, she poured out two cups of piping hot soup.
Next, the woman clattered a few cups of ice into the device along with half and half, vanilla flavoring and some other ingredients. After the concoction rattled a moment or two, she scooped out ice cream. “How does it know whether to make it hot or cold?” I wondered. Then my figure-outter (is that a word?) kicked in and I realized it was the motor speed and spin duration that determined in part if the final results burned your tongue or gave you brainfreeze.
After a few minutes, I was convinced to buy one of those babies for our kitchen counter. After all, who needs both kidneys? I could make a sacrifice for the sake of a good meal. Another bonus was that Vitamix products are made in America.
Since our culinary contraption arrived, we’ve made all kinds of soup, ice cream, and more kinds of morning shakes than I can name. We made peanut butter from dry-roasted peanuts.
Yesterday, Jilda threw in frozen blueberries, a banana, coconut water, orange juice, yogurt, flax seed, and carrots. With a bit of showmanship she washed an apple, twisted off the stem, and dropped that baby into the device.
My eyebrows furrowed as I wasn’t looking forward to drinking apple seeds, but when she poured the concoction out, it was one of the tastiest treat’s I’ve ever had. Our new Vitamix gives us another way to enjoy food.
Rick Watson is a columnist and author. His latest book Life Changes is available on Amazon.com. You can contact him via email at firstname.lastname@example.org.