I love Renee.
She was one of the first new friends I made upon returning to my hometown. She was relatively new to the area, too and had a husband and a small daughter named Emma. I loved Emma with all my heart. She was the apple of my eye. On my cell phone, Renee is listed as "Emma's Mom."
One weekend she and her husband took a group camping. I am not fond of sleeping outdoors so I volunteered to keep Emma for the weekend. I knew I was not in Kansas anymore when she started pulling out bags of frozen vegetables labeled "edamame." WTF is edamame? She told me this was one of the things I was to feed the child and to simply boil it with some salt. Ooooookay. I asked if Emma had any food allergies. She denied knowing any. So once they left, the edemame was shoved back in the freezer and I fed the poor child some REAL food. I took her to McDonald's for a Happy Meal. I even took her to my grandmother's house for a real dinner with fat, cholesterol and undoubtedly enslaved and corn fed fried chicken. And surprisingly, she ate quite well. At the time, all Emma could do was the crazy baby talk, so it remains to this day, our little secret.
Earlier today, I was on a grocery store run. I like to return phone calls while in the car, so I called Renee. Our conversation lasted only minutes, but she invited me over as soon as I went home and put away my groceries.
Once in the store, I thought of her again. On my list of items to buy was soy milk. I've missed milk a lot on this diet and heard soy milk was a good replacement. I knew of all people, Renee would know what kind to buy, but I left my cell phone in the car.
When I got to her house, she was in the kitchen, mixing something in the food processor. I told her that I had wanted her advice on what kind of soy milk to get. She went into great detail, describing which ones she liked and which ones could be bought where. She went to the fridge and poured me a cup of her own.
As a pure cow's milk fan.. 100% Vitamin D Whole Milk, I tasted this stuff carefully. It was not bad. It wasn't great, either.
She went back to mixing. As it turns out, she was making hummus. Again, not in my repertoire of yummy food. When it was done mixing, she scooped out a wad on a cracker and handed it to me.
I smiled, choking quietly on the cracker and powerfully garlicky paste, washing it down with milk derived from a lowly soybean. I thought it an ironic payback for the delight I found that weekend feeding Emma "bad food."
