Recently I've discovered that, if there is a little bit of salt on an item, say fish, and you need to increase that saltiness, lemon will bring it out.  If something has the wrong kind of sodium--sometimes it's MSG; sometimes it's a different sodium additive--I can feel its effect on my legs immediately.  It's not exactly direct pain; more a feeling of pressure, maybe a bit of crushing.  Elevation helps then.  If I drink enough water, fast enough, I can flush the bloatium from my system.

As a young teenager, I was on a low-sodium diet.  The experimental side of me did a little dance, and the part of me that liked to make lists was in agreement.  Don't get me wrong: thin, dense bread with no flavor was not a treat.  Nor was low-sodium chartreuse chicken bouillon.  No longer could I eat an entire box of instant au gratin potatoes, or hot dogs or even a certain famous burger from a certain famous fast food place.  A certain processed American cheese product was also forbidden.  I couldn't even have water from our tap since it was softened and therefore had sodium.  Around a certain weepy time of month, there would sometimes be tears and tantrums when I accidentally took two antacids for the calcium, only to discover they didn't have calcium but instead had a gram of sodium.  If I had a high-sodium regression, sore, swollen piano legs were my reward.  Sometimes I'd get a headache or irritable or dizzy.  My doctor tried to tell me it was pitting edema, but my skin always sprang back relatively quickly from being pressed; at least I thought so.  Saltless potato chips were a major help, as well as yogurt raisins.  At fast food places it would take a few minutes longer, but I would order the fries without salt.  They would arrive, burning, crisp and magnificent.  None of the workers ever seemed put out that I would make them start a new batch of fries; some of the people behind me probably received crisper potatoes than they would have otherwise, even if they did have to add salt.  Nowadays, my lips pucker when I eat fries that I didn't order without the salt.
I started eating fewer pickles, gave up cottage cheese, and switched to saltless butter.  When I did have olives, it was very few, and they were rinsed.  Luckily, there was saltless tomato sauce, so I was able to make my own pizza sauce.  Thank God for garlic, the flavoring that sometimes makes things taste like salt has been added.
I tracked my sodium intake--it was supposed to be 1000 mg or less a day.

Springerle

Wasabamole

What has been your greatest food faux pas?  Mine happened about 12 years ago, and involved sushi.  I was accustomed to California rolls, and avocado.  The substance in the plastic container was pale green, and it was on the same tray as my regular sushi.  I took a bite appropriate for avocado, which means a huge mouthful.  I learned right then how great wasabi is for clearing the sinuses and that, although by itself pickled ginger tastes like soap (I speak from experience), it will save your life if you have mistaken wasabi for avocado.

It's raining out, day 2.  Am drinking hot cocoa made with soy milk.  Prepped Springerle today.  The dough came out dryer than I am used to, but it worked.  Tomorrow, they bake. 

Manger en France

Quand j'etais en Paris et aussi dans le Loire, c'est vrai, j'ai mange bien.  A Angelica, j'ai bu le chocolat chaud le mieux que j'en avais auparavant et depuis.  C'etait thick, riche, et magnifique avec l'eau effervescent.  Angelica s'est trouve dans le plus jolie batiment que j'ai vue en France.  Avec des difficultes, (ma jambe, c'est endommagee), j'ai traverse les escaliers au pied.
Pres de l'eglise Notre Dame, j'ai essaye des crepes au marron.  Pour moi, ceux etaient trop sucres.  J'aimait que les gens utilisaient des contraptions pour produire les crepes. 

Ancient Green Pancake

It looks like a dog's vomit after it has eaten grass. I assume it tastes better. The recipe was Another Asparagus Custard or Alia Patina de Asparagis. I found it in Miscellania, the fourth book in De re Coquinaria by Apicius. To start, I used my mortar and pestle to "grind" asparagus tips (12 heads), a small, diced scallion, and some celery leaves. The celery leaves replaced lovage, which was called for in the recipe, but which I could not locate in a timely manner. To this mixture I then added a small portion of wine and olive oil (I don't like to measure). This went into a frying pan on the stove, and after it had heated for a couple of minutes, I topped it with a scrambled egg. It basically came out like a green frittata. Although the recipe was supposed to serve four, I ended up with enough for myself only.

The source of my "pancake" was Apicius: Cookery and Dining in Imperial Rome, edited and translated from Latin into German by Joseph Dommers Vehling. My English translation (isbn# 9780486235639) was published in 1936. De re Coquinaria is divided into ten parts--the surviving number. According to Vehling, there are indications that Apicius was not the sole author. He points out that there are plenty of repetitions in the recipes; the titles of the individual books are Greek, not Latin, and the literary style changes throughout the book.

The first part, Epimeles, is a miscellany of foods to be used for medicinal purposes (especially for bowel movement), spices and their combinations, and ways to bring foods back from the brink if they are spoiled. On page 51, for example, we are told to add two parts fresh honey to one part of bad honey to disguise its unpleasant flavor. A method for preserving meat longer is given; and there is a recipe for making a faux rose wine from citrus leaves instead of rose petals.

Sarcoptes (minces) is the title of the second part, and it refers to meat and dumplings. One of the recipes therein instructs us to soak almonds in water and white clay to make them whiter. The third part is dedicated to the garden. Pumpkin figured prominently into Roman cookery; an example recipe is the Alexandrine-style pumpkin found in this section. It basically calls for the pumpkin to be stewed in wine. Another recipe is "a harmless salad," in which we are advised, after eating lettuce, to make an infusion involving cumin (as commonly used in this book as we would use salt and pepper today) and meaty dates strained into a stock-and-vinegar mixture and then sipped from a spoon.

Some observations I've made about the entire book: over half of the recipes include cumin and raisin wine, often together. Laser (asafoetida--used today in Indian cookery, and pungent enough to be used in place of onions or garlic), mint, ginger, rue, pepper, and honey are also prominently featured. Another popular ingredient is must, which is an extremely reduced grape juice or wine. Some of the lesser used ingredients include the herb pennyroyal (used in modernity for herbal infusions), myrtle berries, mastic (a relative of the pistachio), Indian spikenard, citrons, saltpeter (a preservative), fig stones, dasheens (taro) and cardoons (relatives of thistle). Unusual meats employed include figpeckers (hummingbirds?), crane, dormice, chamois, and gazelle. Vegetables used in the dishes include grapes, figs, green olives, quinces, peas, parsnips, and turnips.

Very little is mentioned regarding utensils and serving dishes; straining ingredients seems to be the most exotic preparation technique.

While my source for this dish is strictly from the book mentioned earlier, two other recommended sites for information on ancient Roman and Apician cookery are:

http://www.cs.cmu.edu/~mjw/recipes/ethnic/historical/ant-rom-coll.html

and

www.eattoblog.com

Pictures from my Asparagus Frittata from Apicius

     For a food in culture class, I recreated a dish from Apicius called Alia Patina de Asparagis, which was translated as Another Asparagus Custard.  For me, it came out closer to a frittata or pancake.

Although it ended up making a much smaller portion than I had wanted, it was pretty tasty.  Yes, it resembled something my dog might cough up after chomping grass to alleviate an upset stomach.  But it was a nifty pancake.