Last Friday marked 18 months since my dearly beloved's surgery, and his recent EKG, blood work and visits to the specialist were all quite good. Every day, I am happy that I took him to the doctor because he was just a little tired and out of breath. Every day, I celebrate the fact that he's alive and well. Every day, he moans about the fact that he's "not as healthy" as he was "before". Yes? When? 1982? Bulletin, darling: I was younger, livelier and better looking in 1982, also.
But I digress: This is the first cookbook I bought when we were told that his cholesterol was somewhat high. News flash: Doctors' offices are absolute crap at giving advice on how to eat when you have dietary restrictions. If you're lucky, they have a pre-printed sheet telling you what foods to avoid (which is miles long), and what foods you can use (including water and fiber). I really object to the terminology of "using" food. What, is an apple like an illicit drug, which you "use"? My nurse daughter said I was over-reacting; I told her I was linguistically right. You "eat" food; you don't "use" it. Still, I digress. Let's just see the cookbook, shall we?