A Confession

I have to admit something before I continue this blog about food and family.

My nutritional standards are a little less-than-scientific. In fact, I have come to realize that they are based, quite arbitrarily, on my own personal likes and dislikes. And, even more arbitrarily, these likes and dislikes are often based on vague, romanticized and connotation-laden ideas that I have nurtured quite unconsciously heretofore.

Let me explain. I believe in baking with sourdough. Not for the amazing phytate-destroying benefits that sourdough provides, but because it makes me think of San Francisco, my childhood, and long-ago cowboy cooks making biscuits on the sagebrush plains. And there are other considerations. Would I like sourdough as much if I did not have a beautiful blue bowl (thanks Mom!) to store my starter in?

I doubt it. And that's the truth.

Furthermore, I still love baking with yeast. And find myself unwilling to stop. So my disclaimer is this. I want to place nutrition near the top of my cooking priorities-I have a young son and our family's good health to maintain. But I confess that nutrition is sometimes trumped in my kitchen by nostalgia, aesthetics, and occasionally pure stubbornness. Bear this in mind when I ramble on about healthy cooking, and please, I ask you, forgive my nutritional faux pas.