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I realize that everything I have written recently centers around food. This time will be no exception.

It's kind of scary, in fact, because in general, I don't think very much about food. I mean, sure, I worry about whether it's organic, or whether the meat is pasture-raised, or whether it's local... but I don't think about things like, say, how to prepare it, or how to season it. And, as long as it's not too spicy or slimy (for the record, okra is perhaps one of the most deceptively revolting plants on the face of the earth), I'm not that particular about flavor, either.

In fact, on Thanksgiving, when we forgot the sage and rosemary we were supposed to use to season the turkey Freckles brined, I told him it was probably okay and that we most likely wouldn't miss it. (Needless to say, he went back home and got it. Probably it made a difference.)

Anyway, now that Baby J eats solid food, I have to think about food all the time. What did he eat yesterday? Was there any change? Did he like it? How much did he eat? It's like living in an obsessive-compulsive cooking channel show. In case you were wondering, I'm not the kind of girl who watches those shows. A typical discussion about them between me and Freckles goes something like this:

Freckles: Let's use the Alton Brown recipe.

Me: No. Isn't he the one who uses all the lard?

Freckles: No, that's Paula Deen.

Me: Are you sure? I don't want to get fat.

Freckles: You won't -- I'll substitute olive oil for butter.

Me: Wait, huh? You can DO that? That sounds shady. Maybe I just won't eat.

Freckles: No! If you don't eat, then you'll die!

Me: Whatever. At least I won't have eaten lard.

And when the subject all of the discussion is what Baby J eats, all you get are pretty pointless questions because even if food goes in the boy's mouth, it might not actually get digested. Usually there's no change at all. Ever. And liking the food? Liking it is pretty subjective.

Until now.

I can now conclusively announce that Baby J likes turkey. He actually leaned towards it to try to shovel more into his mouth using the spoon. I'm pretty sure some of it even made the mystical voyage down into his stomach. Afterwards, he washed the turkey down with a cold glass of water.

It's really quite amazing actually. Even if he sometimes doesn't drink the water so much as hold it in his mouth and then spit it out.

But we're making progress.