Tag Archives: Food

Hot Sausage and Mustard………………

Caregivers, Uncategorized, , , , , ,

At a lovely dinner last night, my brother-in-law was telling me about his aunt who was required to go to assisted living this week. She was not happy to leave her home of 70 years, but was accepting that she needed help. The first thing my brother-in-law said when I asked him about the facility is: “Well, the food is good!”

This is ground-breaking. This should be their premiere and perhaps only marketing tool. They would have a waiting list for years.

Why does food in practically every institution have to be abominable?  I have been witness to or eater of food at 10 facilities or more….nursing homes, hospitals, assisted living facilities, independent living facilities and not one of them had consistently  good food. Sure, there was an occasional meal that was pretty darn good. One place I would go to had the best BLT’s I’ve ever had. But one cannot live on a great BLT.

My occasional unscientific survey of dining halls went something like this:

“So how do you like it here?”

“The food stinks.”

What you won't get in a nursing home
What you won’t get in a nursing home

If you can serve decent food at a banquet or a wedding, you can do it in a facility. Stop making this the first place to cut corners. Especially when these are the last years of your loved one’s life. For heaven’s sake, you all know how important food is.  It’s memories. It’s comfort. It’s a tiny bit of joy in your day.

Make it better. Maybe make it less. How much food waste is going on?  There is usually too much on their plate, anyway. How did humungous American portions become the definition of ‘good food’, especially in a senior center?

More is not more. Less is more. If less is more….that is, if less food is higher quality food, let’s try that.

There’s a reason Oliver sang a whole song about  “Food, glorious food……..”

If they want more pudding, give it to them, damn it. But make it the good stuff!””

“You Just have to Laugh……….”

© 2016 Cathy Sikorski

And now, a Massage from the Swedish Prime Minister….Monty Python

Caregivers, Humor, Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , ,

As we were discussing our daughters’ fierce food requirements when they come to visit, my friend, Pat revealed that she feels the same way as I do about  the wonders of kale.

Pat’s daughter is a vegan and my daughter is very careful about her diet. When these girls  come to stay at our respective homes, we grocery shop for them, we cook for them and we try very hard not to make a mistake, insult their food, or give them any excuse to never return.

Each and everyone of you knows that kale is the Super Woman of super food. When you ingest kale, you are creating a vortex of health, wisdom, happiness, hale(ness?) and heartiness throughout your body. Kale will not be denied. It will make all things well in the world, especially in your colon, pancreas, pituitary gland and all those other internal organs you play like a fiddle.

I hate kale. I hate mean girls and I hate kale.

Do not give me recipes for kale. Do not tell me to eat kale chips, kale salad or kale smoothies. I tried. I hate it.

This is where Pat explained to me, that her daughter explained to her, that in order to release the power and joys of kale you need to massage it.

Okay, seriously, I’m done now.

I don’t even know what that  means…massage the kale. Do I need massage oil for that? Can instructions be found in the Kalema Sutra?

Looks pretty, but is it worth it?
Looks pretty, but is it worth it?

I’m not massaging my kale. I don’t even massage my husband.  If anyone’s getting a massage here it’s me. I will buy non-dairy yogurt, gluten free bread, only shredded Brussels sprouts for the healthy visitors in my house . But even if it makes kale taste like anything from Ben & Jerry’s, I refuse to massage the kale.

Yes, I’m far from perfect. Yes, I eat and drink things that are naughty. And in the interest of full disclosure, I snarfed up all the Easter Candy. left over wedding favors and the real Ben & Jerry’s ice cream in the freezer last night before our daughter came home for a lengthy visit. I say that as a point of pride, not shame (about the food, not my daughter). After all, I was creating a healthy food environment for my house guest, right? Oh, the things we do for company.

As for my personal constitution, all my grandparents lived well into their 90’s and I’m certain that not one of them ever massaged a leafy green vegetable. So I’m good.

“You Just have to Laugh…..”

©2016 Cathy Sikorski

 

 

“Where’s the Beef?”

Caregivers, Humor, Multiple Sclerosis, Uncategorized, , , , , ,

One of the weekly treats I like to bring my brother-in-law, who is almost done in the rehab center, is a cheese steak. For some reason, this small gesture makes him enormously happy. He eats every single morsel and makes me pick up the remains with a fork so he doesn’t miss a bit. He’s become mildly obsessed with his food choices. This makes a lot of sense as it’s about the only choices he actually has on a daily basis.

If I wore a hospital gown every day, no shoes, didn’t go anywhere and could only choose my TV programs, I, too would be fanatically choosing my meals every day. So I try to be  understanding when it takes hours to go through the menu to pick his meals. I’m so understanding that I turned that job over to my mother. She meticulously goes through every single appetizer, main course, including condiments, right down to the amount of salt, pepper and sugar to bring with each meal, dessert and beverages. Then she makes a copy to leave with my brother-in-law so he can check to see what he’s having or if they brought what he actually ordered.

I find this OCD behavior over food and menus daunting. Probably because I’m on a diet. Or maybe because ever since my babies grew up, I’ve become Attila the Hun about having to worry about any body else’s food. And yet, as my mother and I were visiting him the other day the aide brought him a grilled cheese sandwich for his lunch.

The looks of horror on all our faces told her she was not leaving that room unscathed, because we had just finished this conversation:

Brother-in-Law: “What am I having for lunch, today?”

Mom:”I don’t know, let me look at your copy of the menu. So you chose a hot dog and a cheeseburger for today.”

Me: “Oh you’re having your own summer picnic!”

With that the grilled cheese sandwich arrives. This poor girl is accosted by all three of us with a resounding chorus of “Noooooooooooo!” like she had finally brought the hemlock as we had all suspected.

ice cream sundae“Don’t worry,” the aide said, “I will call the kitchen and get what you ordered.”

Now I’m trying to figure out how ‘hot dog’ and ‘cheeseburger’ looks like ‘grilled cheese’ on a pre-printed menu. But I still want to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. As I go to look at the menu, my brother-in-law starts to eat his grilled cheese.

“I might as well eat some of this, who knows how long it will take,” he mumbles through bites.

He eats half the sandwich, half the ice cream sundae, which he did order and it is now melting, and lo and behold the hot dog and hamburger arrive sans condiments. We take care of THAT catastrophe and all is well in the land of lunch.

By the way, I finally got my hands on that menu….there was no grilled cheese sandwich as a choice anywhere on any day for this entire week. I imagine the people in the kitchen saying things like:

“Oh we ran out of hot dogs, these people won’t notice a grilled cheese instead. I hope they’re not lactose intolerant.” Or any other kind of intolerant.

“You Just have to Laugh….”

©Cathy Sikorski