Post-Easter Post

Pork tenderloin with garlic. Rotten.

Easter is over. Apart from all the upbeat Easter songs (Christ Arose, He is Risen, In Christ Alone, etc.) at church--and a piece of moist (in a good way) chocolate cake from a Dutch bakery after the service, supplied by the family of a man who lost his wife in January--Easter this year for me was a just a little bit worse than another ordinary Sunday. Maybe because expectations were higher, even though there were no plans beyond 11 AM.

I don't care about chocolate bunnies or dyed eggs or buying a new spring dress--all things that were part of the family tradition of Easter with three young girls in the household.

And in March, even though it was bright and sunny, very few were wearing their "Easter finery" anyway. There were quite a few fine hats on display in the big city Presbyterian church I attended last Easter, but that is not what we do in our church here in Michigan.

Daughter E had to work in ICU. Daughter M, who joined us for the big ham dinner last week, opted for Korean food in Manhattan. And daughter R--on a boat-- forgot about reservations and had leftover pizza for her noon meal.

So much for celebrating Easter in our family!

I browsed photos from around the world. It was uplifting to see Christians celebrating Easter in Peshawar and Baghdad, as well as places where one would expect it, like in the Vatican, with the Pope arrayed in his finest; or in Windsor Castle, for the Queen of England--where the Queen and her entourage I am sure were adorned with fancy hats.

But for us and our more ordinary lives, the husband had purchased a seasoned pork tenderloin he thought we could prepare on the charcoal grill for our Easter dinner. I decided to just use the oven. It was flavored with garlic and olive oil and smelled okay while cooking. But it might have actually been rotten. I couldn't decide whether it was bad garlic, rancid olive oil or everything. Not since some authentic southern fried (rotten) chicken breast in Charleston on a spring trip two years ago with "the girls" has anything been so disgusting.

I actually ate a few bites before determining that it was inedible. Thinking it might be me, I warned the husband, but he also partook of it. He said it tasted like gasoline, a smell he likes! (He rated it 0 on a scale of 1-10.) I am thankful it did not make me throwing-up-sick. There was other food to eat, lest you feel too sorry for me. But nothing erased the memory of that pork in my mouth for the day.

After a nap (in church by 8 AM!), feeling lazy and slightly depressed, I watched two episodes of Naked and Afraid. I don't know how much the participants are paid, but I could not do what they do on that show--eating grubs, fighting bugs, avoiding snakes and sleeping naked on sticks and leaves (with a strange nude man by your side) for 21 days!

Then I began to feel better about my day!

But ever since I adopted the mantra of "life is too short for bad food" it seems I am getting slammed a little too frequently with unpleasant food surprises.

I am almost persuaded to give up tasty food altogether and get serious about the spring diet! How long could I survive on boiled eggs and cabbage ... for 21 days? It would surely beat grubs and snakes.

(Black gourmet coffee will still be on the menu, no matter what.)