Early Monday morning, just after he finished his ritual good-morning bottle snuggled in our bed, he turned to me and greeted me with a new affirmation. "Today is Tuesday."
"It's not Tuesday," I said. "Today is Monday."
"Today is Monday," he repeated, as he reached a hand out to touch my cheek. And then, very seriously, shaking his head: "We don't eat Monday."
This has continued all week. At least once a day, he offers up his version of what day of the week it is, waits for me to correct him, and then states solemnly: "We don't eat Thursday." Or "Wednesday." Or whatever day it happens to be. It cracks me up every time. All I can manage in response is mute agreement.
But it has started me thinking. If they were edible, what would a day taste like?
So here's my list. And yes, I do like all these foods.
Monday: lentils with fried onions. Strong and sturdy.
Tuesday: banana. Just plain banana.
Wednesday: meatballs and spaghetti. Fill-me-up comfort.
Thursday: Thai-style sauteed eggplant. Roasty exotica.
Friday: crisp little lemony cookies. Fresh, hopeful.
Saturday: flourless chocolate cake, with chocolate ganache, strawberries and fresh whipped cream. Pure decadence.
Sunday: homemade chicken noodle soup, with matzoh balls for good measure. A deep breath for the week ahead.
Try it. It's fun. And it just might help you answer that interminable question What's for dinner?