When a pain specialist at a teaching hospital recommended an epidural to relieve my back pain — an injection into the scarily weensy area between my spinal cord and vertebrae — I requested that he himself do the procedure — not an intern or resident (doctor in training). After agreeing he asked me to remind him later in the operating room. Sure enough when I got there, a resident was already gloved up and ready to roll. Obviously disappointed  (maybe I was his very first practice epidural), the resident stepped back while my doctor scrubbed up to perform the tricky needlework.

By the time I later had full scale chest surgery at the same hospital, I had been examined by so many departments and doctors, I felt like I was in the care of a large team rather than just my surgeon.  Also, somewhere along the way a young doctor had informed me it wasn’t wise to interfere with the natural flow of hospital routine such as insisting that a doctor take over an unfamiliar procedure that he was not used to performing on a regular basis.  In sum, I was beginning to feel it would be smart to let my surgeon lead his team through the course of my surgery without any help from me. Known to occasionally (okay, more than occasionally) exhibit control freak tendencies, I nevertheless couldn’t help but feel a twinge of doubt about completely stepping aside and handing over full control to a bunch of masked people wielding sharp knives.

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It looks like the USDA pulled what my father would call “a fast one.” The agency waited for the  Friday before the long Labor Day weekend — when most Americans were already in holiday mode — to announce they had lifted the ban on chicken products imported from China. As if that weren’t startling news enough, not only is China’s processed chicken coming to our tables, but you and I won’t know it. None of the chicken that lands in our soups and salads and nuggets will be labeled “made in China.” 

All the chickens will be raised and slaughtered in the US or Canada and because the chicken will only be processed in China, no country-of-origin labeling will be legally required. This convoluted journey raises still another red flag. The more food is fooled around with, the longer and more complicated the journey from source to plate, the greater the chance of contamination. And it’s hard to imagine chickens being raised in cramped, chicken factories in the US, butchered by the boatload and packed and shipped thousands of miles away, then shipped BACK again won’t be infected with troublesome bacteria somewhere along the way.

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The idea was simple and immediately appealing when I spotted it in the Charlotte Observer. Take a big batch of onions and, with minimal time and effort, caramelize them all at one shot. Then during the rest of the week, spark up lunches, dinners and snacks with the savory, intensely flavored onions. And are any other veggies cheaper than onions? No. This added another positive note to the idea.

A big onion lover, I put the plan into play that very night. While I had sautéed onions plenty of times I had never actually caramelized them, so I checked out a few online recipes.

I had already planned on a hamburger and salad for dinner. With my new onion treasury, I piled the hamburger high with my freshly caramelized onions. Delicious!

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At first glance I thought I had saved myself a quick four bucks buying a generic brand coffee creamer (White Rose) for $1.49 instead of the big name brand (Coffee-Mate) for $5.49. And why not? Though spotted in different stores, the jars appeared to be the same size, shape and color. Even their lids were identical, so it was possible they had both been manufactured by Coffee-Mate, making it a still bigger bargain. Operating on a large scale, big name food brands sometimes set aside a portion of their production for the generic and store label market and still come out with a tidy profit.

Of course it could be argued that coffee creamers weren’t even foods at all. Heavy on preservatives and the usual artificial suspects, the ingredients wouldn’t win any nutrition contests. Not a big fan of the stuff myself, I only use it for rare emergencies when I run out of milk for my coffee.

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Dear Starbucks:

Enough already! I’m heading for a larger dress size yet again. And while I can pretend all these extra pounds jumped on my innocent frame because I’m “big boned” or “not doing enough exercise” or “a bunch of monster chocolate mousses forced themselves on me” you and I both know the truth. I can’t resist, no how, no way, your divine double chocolate brownies. I’ve tried and tried. Really I have. Every time I approach your nearest branch on Lexington Avenue, I start my incantation:  “No. No brownie for you today. Be strong. Be tough. Do you want to end up a big chubbo? No. No way. ”

Most of the time this little pep talk works. I get past the Starbucks door, then the entire establishment. Yay! Made it. But oh no, there’s another Starbucks just around the corner on Third Avenue. And ANOTHER one two blocks north. And no matter which direction I turn, there are still MORE Starbucks lying in wait with their brownie treasures. It’s getting boring, this tedious, ongoing lecture to keep myself from scarfing down yet another you know what.

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I was up late that Saturday night reading the Sunday Times when I hard an odd snapping noise. Snap-snap-SNAP — the snapping got faster and louder and suddenly burst into what sounded like powerful firecrackers going off. Alarmed, I jumped up, trying to figure out what was happening and where the scary sounds were coming from. They seemed loudest on the window side of the room. As I took a tentative step in that direction, the room exploded in a choking gray cloud as massive plaster chunks peeled away from the 100 year old ceiling, smashed onto my furniture and shelves and lamps and crashed to the floor.

Thick with paster dust, the air was difficult to breath, but the path to the window was blocked with piles of heavy plaster and floorboard debris that had come close, I shakily realized, to smashing me into unattractive bits. I opened the front door, letting the ancient smelling, plaster fog roll into the hall.  All was silent out there.   Most neighbors were out of town for the weekend.  The few remaining had apparently heard nothing.

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Are you looking for tempting salad and sandwich ideas to jazz up your brown bag lunches? Want to give the boot to the tired lunchmeat and tuna on white routine? Or maybe you’re ready to take your packable lunches up to a higher level. This collection of over 100 super recipes will beef up your lunch menu repertoire or maybe inspire you to jump on the brown bag lunch bandwagon if you’re not already aboard.

If you are onboard, you’re already enjoying the benefits of brown bagging it: eating more healthful meals, knowing your food sources, relaxing with pleasant eat-in lunches and of course, saving bucks (lots of bucks: a daily $10.00 restaurant lunch tab totals $2,600 a year. A $20.00 dollar a day big spender racks up a $5,200 yearly tab).

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Internships don’t usually come with position titles, so the ad on Craig’s List for an Intern – Gallery Photographer and PhotoShop Editor, caught my eye. The internship called for a student who owned and was an adept user of a DSLR camera with on-board flash. This pricey piece of equipment would have set any student back at least $600 to $3000 in the lower price range. Additionally, the job required good digital photo editing skills and the availability to work 8 to 12 hours a week for 8 weeks or more.

The intern’s job duties entailed photographing numerous antiques (with the intern’s OWN CAMERA), editing and retouching the photos, then uploading them to websites where the antiques were to be sold. Rather than assisting, the intern would essentially be doing the exact same work as a professional photographer, retoucher, editor and digital production team whose services could easily total many thousands of dollars for this kind of job. The intern, on the other hand, was to be paid the exultant sum of zip-zilch-nada. Actually it was more like MINUS zip-zilch-nada, since the employer made no mention of paying the intern’s expenses. Assuming the intern worked three days a week for 8 weeks, the transportation tab alone could total a minimum $120.00. Tack on the cost of camera batteries, memory cards and that intern was about to PAY up to $300 bucks for the privilege of saving that antique broker a huge hunk of money.

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I like to spend as little time in the kitchen as possible, so economical one dish meals are by far my favorite to cook. My ideal recipes contain three key ingredients: a protein, a carb and veggies. Also required is simplicity. I want to get that grub together in that pot one two three and I don’t want to run all over town searching for ingredients. I also want plenty left over to freeze for additional meals. The icing on the cake, of course, is ending up with only one main pot to clean.

Here are five recipes that hit my culinary spot. Their ingredients may be simple, but their combined textures and flavors are full bodied and heartily satisfying:

Beef and veggie stir-fry: Southern Living~ Featuring a colorful combo of veggies: asparagus, carrots, bell pepper, mushrooms and scallions and flavored with garlic, soy sauce, sesame oil, and hoisin sauce, this stir fry meal takes only minutes to cook. Served over rice, it’s also versatile. You can substitute your favorite veggies or even omit the meat if that’s your pleasure. Unlike restaurant take-out, you can be assured all the ingredients are of super quality and prepared with your own high standards of care and attention.

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I’m not keen on celebrating New Year’s Eve in public places with raucous crowds, revelers determined to have a BIG night, dining room prices jacked up to the ceiling and food poorly prepared thanks to over-worked, over-steamed chefs. To this, add wobbly merrymakers weaving through the city on their way to getting blotto and it’s definitely not my idea of a fun way to start the New Year.

As for the New Year’s Resolution Bandwagon, I’ll give it a pass. I’m less than thrilled at being informed NOW is the time to sum up the past year. NOW is the time to set goals for the New Year. Who says? To me New Years Day and the next day are interchangeable. As are Valentine’s Day and Halloween and Ground Hog Day. The only difference between them is a date written on a calendar. So why make resolutions at the exact same time every year just because the community at large and a bunch of articles are saying it’s the time to do so. Why can’t resolutions be made any old time of the year?  If you’re living and thinking at your fullest every day, you’re probably making resolutions and setting goals left and right all along. Ideally I am.

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