I had to go all the way to Montreal to find the croissant - the one I’d been seeking since I returned from living in France ten years ago. And then, finally, there it was, on its own little white plate like the jewel it was. It tasted like butter, like the Alps, like pleasure. But it tasted like something else, too. It tasted like guilt.

I know well the versatile flavor of guilt. It seasons zucchini bread and cupcakes and French fries and bagels. It lends a subtle seasoning to foods that are new to me or that I consume in too-large quantities. It’s a recipe staple, like salt.

But in one essential respect, it isn’t. When you take the salt out of a recipe, you lose something. When you take the guilt out of it, you gain.

When Resolutions Don't Work

For years, I’ve made and then reliably broken a string of resolutions to remove guilt from my diet. Each resolution was tied to a milestone, each milestone to an event invested with the weight of how I see myself and how others see me. I’ll remove the guilt and all of it s flavor after this dance performance, after the wedding, after I get pregnant. The broken resolutions have now piled up high enough for me to see that a different strategy is needed, and the sooner the better, because I’m tired of the other flavors being eclipsed in some of my favorite foods.

Here’s what I’ve decided: I need other flavors with which to replace the guilt. I need to keep a tub of “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Guilt” in my fridge. And in my desk drawer at work, and in my purse, and…

What Might We Relish?

So here’s my challenge, to myself and to all you Pinkies: what other flavors can we find and relish in our food to replace the guilt, or the other sour flavors we might find there?

This is a trickier business than it might at first appear. Many of us experience feelings about food that we don’t realize are destructive. It’s too easy for us to find in our food love, acceptance, refuge, and other emotions that are positive but not helpful or appropriate when applied to food. So what flavors are the really good ones, the ones that are both appetizing and nourishing?

Here are a few that I’ve come up with recently:

• This homemade chocolate truffle tastes like a deep breath on a harried day.
• This glass of Rioja tastes like good fortune and the gratefulness that goes along with it.
• This Thai Basil Chicken tastes like laughter with good friends.
• This shared chocolate chip scone tastes like a moment of intimacy with my husband.
• This slice of Gouda tastes like a lingering long weekend, neither commonplace nor extraordinary, neither over nor under-appreciated.

What about you, Pinkies? What sweet or savory flavors can you find in your food, especially in foods that are often heavily seasoned with sour tastes and especially in foods that you only treat yourself to once in awhile? What kind of Pink Recipe Book can we create to nurture ourselves, share with our friends, and pass on to our kids?

Savoring life,

Suzanne