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Custard’s Last Stand

June 19, 2022

I went to the market the other day for a little shopping. While I was there, I thought it would be nice to try some custard. I haven’t had it in a while. I guess it’s going to be a while longer; they don’t sell it anymore. At least it’s not the custard that I remember. It is now yuppie instant custard, a concoction that does not resemble its distant relative. Disappointed, I turned to see if the market carried polenta. No, apparently even in the ethnic section, polenta doesn’t exist either. Puzzled, I went home hungry.

It seems that I lot of the things I knew from years ago are no longer available in local supermarkets. Times have changed and so have tastes. The American diet now seems largely fat driven; I’ve noticed that 40 percent of the space in local markets is now devoted to frozen foods, fast foods, or pre-prepared foods. I honestly wouldn’t know what the hell to do with pre-cooked bacon; it sounds about as appetizing as pre-frozen leftovers. Where have we all gone astray?

On a return visit to the market, I was elated to find that I could still buy a pear, an apple and a half-gallon of milk. The staples have survived, albeit modified greatly from the days of my childhood. The milk now comes in so many varieties that I get a bit confused. I settled on two percent chiefly because I’m not sure what the other varieties even mean. An apple is not just an apple any more either. There are more than 10 varieties hereabouts. Damn, I just wanted a red one.

I suppose I’m a bit old-fashioned (and not 400 pounds like so many of my brethren). I would still prefer to make my own pasta sauce from fresh ingredients. Prego means you’re welcome – I prefer to say no grazie to jarred pasta sauce. If I must eat bacon, I sure as hell want to see it in the flesh so to speak before I cook it. The pre-prepared salads don’t do too much for me either. I guess I’d rather cut my own tomatoes so at least I know what month they came from.

Custard’s last stand? Yep, I think it was lost in the Battle of the Little Bloat-Horn.

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4 Comments
  1. Allen, please understand what I am about to say. It is not intended to cause pain. I have written 3 responses to your blogs about overweight people. And I have chosen not to post them because the last one I wrote was more scathing than the ones before it. And I don’t want to hurt other people. I don’t want to create anger and resistance to what I am about to say. My hope is that the accepted people will gain some insight into those they laugh at. Many people are overweight. And there are many reasons for that. But just as you cannot say, all dogs are bad because one of them bit someone, you shouldn’t be able to say all overweight people are like that because they choose to overeat and that they don’t care. Many of us do care. Believe me, many, including me, do care. There are many many many reasons for being
    overweight. There are Scientists who have discovered that some people are born “without an off switch”. Which means they don’t recognize being full and keep eating. There are those who have metabolisms that don’t process food correctly. Good luck to those that eat right and exercise horrifically and then discover they haven’t lost a pound. And there are those who grew up in families who did not teach them about healthy nutrition and an awareness of how different foods can have different results when eaten. Or the families that shamed them instead of loving them. And that is just a few of the reasons behind obesity. (Oh, how I hate that word). There are many more reasons. I have struggled with my weight all of my life. I have heard all of the cruel jokes and the laughter as well as being the recipient of judgment and derision from people who have never struggled with this problem. People who have no idea how hard this condition is to overcome. I have fought this problem with everything I have only to fail, one more time, to become one of the accepted ones, one of the pretty ones. And not to fail just once, but over and over again. I know what it is like to never feel good enough. To hate what I look like and sadly, to hate who I am. I want to feel accepted for more than my looks. So some people won’t say “you have such a pretty face…if only you….”. I want to be accepted for being kind, for being compassionate and for being a person who builds people up, not tears them down. But I know that gets lost, not because of a lack of those qualities but because of how I look. Do you wonder why I cry, why I hurt. Yeah, I am the one who is too heavy to carry, I am the one who goes into McDonald’s and hates themselves one more time, because they don’t seem to have the strength to win this battle. I am the one who never gets kissed or asked to the prom. p.s. I did not even get into the stories of the multitude of leeches who get rich off the pain and grief of someone who would give all they have to reach the promised land of “normal “, but instead one who knows what it feels like to be hopeless. And they cry. But, my friend, there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and it ain’t another damn train. Its the person who doesn’t care if they are accepted, who recognizes how shallow being accepted is. It’s the person who has taken the pain and smashed it to become more brilliant than those that are the “normal“ ones. It has taken a lot for me to overcome many things in my life, and I am finally beautiful and strong enough to keep moving up. And I love me and who I have become. Let the “normal “ top that. But I still grieve the young people who will be broken by a society who still judges, who have not been able to rise above that judgment. The young, like me, who will spend their youth searching for something that they eventually will recognize as shallow and petty. Because, for me it has taken my youth. For it truly is “who you are and what you do” that counts. That is the only things that counts. And I am not 400 pounds.

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  2. Thanks for that! Switzerland is not any where near the USA when it comes to supermarket oddness and unhealthy food but even here it is creeping in. Funnily enough, large sliced white toast is called American, not quite sure if it is a compliment or a warning. Anyway below is my favorite Caramel custard recipe. https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/classic_crme_caramel_44792/amp

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