Friday, October 25, 2013

Emotional Eating


Over the last few days, I've been obsessing over kourabiedes, the Greek shortbread cookies I had for the first time a few summers ago on the island of Andros.  Made mostly of ground almonds and dipped in powdered sugar, they really were heavenly--what cumulus clouds would taste like in cookie form.

These days I hardly ever eat cookies.  But the house has been much quieter and sadder without Feefee in it, and when I think of what might make me feel a little bit better, all I can think of is those faraway cookies that tasted like lightness and almonds and summer and Greece.  I know that's pretty much the definition of emotional eating, but I have to say I don't care.  Sometimes a person's gotta have what a person's gotta have.

Tonight after a not very satisfying dinner, I proposed a trip to the Euro Market, a Bulgarian grocery store that carries Greek food.  Though the store was about to close in ten minutes and we live about ten minutes away, Andre and I hopped in the car.  We brought Reuben, our other dog, with us, because he's seemed sad and restless the last few days too, and what kourabiedes would be to my soul, a ride in the car might be to his.

Andre floored it and somehow we got to the store just before closing time.  The bemused shopkeeper smiled over us as we explored the cooler full of Greek cookies. Sure enough they had something that looked kind of like kourabiedes.  (See that blindingly white crumbly blob in the picture above.)

We brought our mystery cookies home and tried them.  And though they were pretty good, they were not cumulus clouds eaten on a balcony while delicate waves lap a nearby shore.  For now, these Euro Market cookies will have to do. But I think soon I will need to try making my own kourabiedes.  I've got a recipe lined up. With a pound of almonds and a pound of butter, I'm pretty sure this recipe, from The Shiksa in the Kitchen, will beat storebought cookies by a mile.

I'm also pretty sure that it's not the cookies themselves I'm hungry for.  But the quest for the cookies--the car rides with Reuben, the conversation with the bemused shopkeeper, the search for just the right recipe--those things are helping us all be slightly less sad.




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