On Choosing the Menu

Dear Boo,

I just got an email informing me that this is possibly my last chance to order those personalized napkins I absolutely MUST have. YES! I thought, That's exactly what I need! Here you go, loved ones, please wipe your faces and clean your fingernails on the names of me and my betrothed!
I am officially over the wedding industry.

(And have officially been driven slightly insane by it.)

Episode #1:
Everyone's favorite bride sits on the couch, sobbing, midst meltdown over some decision that had to be made yesterday. The Fiance, a pillar of patience, strokes her hand and coos, "It's fine. We don't have to decide. We just won't have a ceremony." More crying.

Episode #2 (a short play):
The Mouse and The Fiance are leaving a visit to a jewelry store at which they have just found out that they can add ring shopping to the list of things "You really should have started months ago."

Fiance: So if they tell us it might take 4 weeks, and then it's not ready by the time our wedding day comes around, what are we going to do? Are you going to be okay with a place-holder ring?

Mouse: (striding energetically/crazily down the block) Well, if they say 4 weeks and something happens on their end and its not ready, then it's their problem and they better find a way to FIX IT and get it to us before our WEDDING DAY.

(silence)

Fiance: I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to start a fight between you and our IMAGINARY JEWELER.

(and, scene.)

Episode #3:
The Blushing Bride and her Groom sit, oh, anywhere. On the couch. In bed. At a table in a restaurant. On the subway. Talking about the latest in a string of decisions that MUST be made or else.

Fiance: So what do you want to do about _______?

The Mouse: I don't know.

Change locale. Repeat an infinite number of times.

I recently said to the Fiance that I felt my decision-making muscle was exhausted and unable to function at its full capacity anymore. Never a great one for making choices to begin with, the near-daily workout of being faced with utterly absurd and unnecessary decisions like choosing between this linen and that one, this non-stick skillet or that one (pick this one--America's Test Kitchen does), to veil or not to veil, what friggin song best represents us as a couple, and are we really missing out by not getting our invitations hand-cancelled at the post office (NO, and who has ever heard of such a thing?), my capacity for differentiating between choices and making a decision based on sound information and good judgment, is severely impaired.

Turns out the science world has my back on this one. In this New York Times article, they discuss Decision Fatigue as a very real thing with very real, sometimes devastating consequences (judges who hear multiple cases in a day are more likely to deny parole to those later in the day, and this phenomenon takes a particular toll on the poor, who are constantly being depleted by the continual trade-offs and sacrifices of poverty). It goes on to explain how, like will power, our capacity to weigh options and make decisions can get maxed out if we're calling upon it too often. That dieting phenomenon of waking up with the best intentions for eating well, sitting down to a breakfast of grapfruit and egg whites, and then pigging out at 9pm on nachos and beer, is actually that the will power muscle, the power to make a decision based on long vision and practicality, is just plain worn out after a day of work. AND, the article specifically talks about the process of wedding planning as a virtual marathon for this part of the psyche--the article actually calls it "The decision fatigue equivalent of Hell Week"! I couldn't agree more. This also sort of hit upon the irony of the "wedding diet" I keep talking about starting. If I'm totally depleted in the decision-making department, and have virtually no judgment or good sense left by the end of a day of phone calls with vendors, isn't the deck sort of stacked against me getting my butt to bikini bootcamp and forgoing alcohol and chips for steamed kale? The answer is yes.

Which brings me to our next set of decisions: The Menu.

As a food person (and writer of a food blog!), our food was pretty high on my list of priorities. Not to mention, after the dress, it's pretty much the first thing anyone who knows me asks about. As in, "I can't wait to hear about the menu! It must be amazing, since you're such a foodie!" So I sat down to look at hors d'eouvres options with some trepidation. Should we go with the Anise Scented Duck and Foie Gras Empanadas? Or the Smoked Duck and Scallion Crepe Roulade? Too fussy? Overdone? Not US? And how does one determine if one preparation of duck or another best REPRESENTS US AS A COUPLE?

And then it hit me. When I woke up this morning--the best time to make decisions, according to the article--I thought about this whole to-do, these months of 'this or that', 'for a small upgrade you can get this' and 'well if we invite HIM then we have to invite HER'. And I realized that the hardest decision of all--or I should say, the most significant one--has already been made. I picked him, and low and behold! he picked me. The rest, if you ask me, decision fatigue and all, is small potatoes. Fried or mashed--don't ask me--they both sound great.

And so I sat down with our long list of menu choices and asked, do I want people to leave this wedding saying, "Wow. That food was INCREDIBLE, and INVENTIVE and ORIGINAL!"?

Or do I want them to leave saying, "Wow. Those two people sure do love each other."

And it turns out that decision wasn't so hard after all.

Love,

The Mouse

P.S. I can't include a recipe here because I appear to be unable to tackle the myriad tiny decisions that go into making dinner, and so I've been doing a lot of ordering in. So tell me, what are you making for dinner tonight? I'll just have what you're having. (seriously. please respond in comments below.)

I promise not to write about my wedding for the next nine months. No, seriously.

Well at least I know what I'll be doing with my hair.

Dear Boo,

The night before last, I had a dream. It was my wedding day. We were on the porch of wherever the wedding was being held, when I realized that the Fiance and I had never talked about what the ceremony would consist of. No vows, no officiant, no readings selected. Nothing. I frantically scribbled a list of names and some quotes from memory on a napkin and cried to Mom that I didn't understand how we could have forgotten to plan such an essential component. Then I realized I had never contacted a florist and how would we get decorations in time, what with the wedding happening in an hour or so! I tearfully settled on wilted neon daisies from the deli and thought how? how did this happen?? I didn't have long to wallow though, as I suddenly remembered that I was scheduled to perform in a show the night after the wedding and had failed to learn my lines. "I'll just have to carry my script!" I declared despairingly. "You can't do that," Mom said. "It's a performance. You'll have to make time to learn the lines."

I woke up, sweaty and only somewhat relieved.

Because you see, while there's still time, and I promise you I will not be doing a show the day after the wedding, and I'm sure I'll find a florist and put together some kind of a meaningful ceremony, all of this is dependent on me--no, US--actually living through the next nine months. And with the way things are going, I'm not sure I will.

I realize I'm being a tad overly dramatic. And I tell myself to shut up and check in with reality on a regular basis. I mean, seriously, I found the person I want to spend my life with, and incredibly enough, he feels the same way! And now we're getting married. Which means we get to have all the important people in our lives together in one place, to celebrate us and bear witness to this big, lovely, loving step. Does it really matter whether this occurs under a big white tent or a ceiling with exposed steel beams??

When I was in third grade, I think, we had a computer class, where each student sat down in the library in a tiny plastic bucket chair, basking in the green glow of those old PC screens. We were taught how to open a new word processing document and instructed to write whatever we wanted--a story about anything we liked. It wasn't a writing exercise, just an attempt to get our fingers familiar with the keyboard, to learn to connect the cursor with the place we wanted to add a word. During parent-teacher conferences, my teacher told Mom and Dad about how frustrating this was for me. While all the other kids clicked away happily all period, writing about dragons and princesses and beating up their little brothers, I twisted in my seat, furrowing my brow, crossing my legs, examining my nails, and generally brooding in an elaborate attempt to foster the inspiration necessary to write something really worthwhile. By the time I had settled on an idea, lifting my pointer finger to strike the first key, the period was over and we had to go to lunch.

Well, it seems not much has changed. Saying yes to the Fiance's proposal took about two seconds (once I realized he wasn't joking).
Choosing the location, date, and every other detail of this wedding is taking what feels like a lifetime.

Making choices has always been part of an agonizing dance I do with myself which involves the weighing of pros and cons, the mourning of the roads not taken, the imagining of all possible unexpected considerations, and a healthy dose of self-examination, emotional gymnastics, and snacks.

I realize, though, if I ever want to fit into a wedding dress, I cannot snack my way through every decision. That is, not if the snacks continue to be salt and vinegar potato chips. So, instead I plan on making and eating this salad as much as possible. I'll need the vitamins to get through this phase of planning. Take that, wedding industry! I refuse to be swept up in your tidal wave of white poof, archaic anti-feminist customs, hideous rental chairs, MOST IMPORTANT DAY OF YOUR LIFE, nonsense. Talk to the kale.

Love,

The Mouse

Kale Salad

(shown above with sausage and peppers over garlic bread)

This was inspired by a salad Chef Josh served one night, and a recipe he has for a "Winter Panzanella Salad with butternut squash, croutons, and kale. If you email him, I bet he'd share the recipe...

It never occurred to me to eat kale raw, as I'd previously only cooked it down into near oblivion to soothe the bitter bite. But it turns out, it's fantastically delicious in this form, and makes for a great hearty winter-time lettuce alternative. And since it's raw, you're getting the maximum dose of all its healthy leafy green properties. I made a version for our Christmas dinner, and its crunchy, acidic, and inescapably healthy flavor was a perfect foil to the rest of the rich meal.
Here's how I do it:

1 Bunch or so of kale (I like Lacinato or Tuscan Kale. I think the curly variety you often find in supermarkets is better cooked.)
Remove stems and spines, and slice thinly.
2 large shallots, sliced thinly
1/2 lemon
3 T or so of Cider Vinegar
6 oz grated cheese like very sharp cheddar or gruyere might work
6 T or so of Olive Oil (for both sauteeing shallots and to finish salad)
(optional: couple handfuls of sliced almonds)
(optional: add 2 T of chicken stock)

Clean kale and remove stems and spines, slice thinly and put in bowl. Slice shallots thinly and sautee in a good amount of olive oil over medium high heat until translucent and fragrant. Pour shallots and oil over kale while hot. Squeeze lemon over kale, add cider vinegar, and salt and pepper to taste. Add a bit more olive oil, and toss. Taste it and adjust with more lemon or vinegar if it needs acidity, or more salt and olive oil or chicken stock to your taste. Add cheese and almonds (if using), toss and serve. I find the kale tastes best if you let it sit with the dressing for a bit before eating.