A few of you may recall the recent firestorm over Ralph Lauren’s ultra-intense Photoshop mad skillz. Our own Plumcake covered the question with eloquence and style.

Well, now some good folks have organized their fury into a boycott. If you wish to join the boycott (and let Mr. Lauren know about it), here is where to go to sign on the dotted line.

Remember, Ralphie is the one who photoshopped a model until her head appeared literally bigger than her hips, tried to sue the first people to call him on it, and then fired the model for being too fat.

It’s bad enough that beauty is considered to be a dress size rather than lovely features or a spark of internal fire. Do we really need beauty to be too thin for anybody at all to achieve? My resounding response is Hell No!

I signed. Will you?

Have I mentioned how much I love my friendly neighborhood independent grocery store? Because I do. I really, really do.

‘But Twistie,’ you exclaim! ‘Wherefore this sudden outburst of possibly inappropriate affection for a mere grocery store?’

And I can but reply that this affection is in no way inappropriate. In fact, it is particularly appropriate affection. In particular my affection is for the charming gentleman who tends the fruits and vegetables. I have always enjoyed seeing him because he’s easy on the eyes, has a delightful smile, and always seems happy to see me. I also enjoy seeing him because he always points out the best, freshest goodies to arrive.

After today, though, I will have another reason to like seeing him. You see, there were some persimmons just reaching past their prime. They are now sitting on my kitchen counter, courtesy of the courteous gentleman who tends the fruits and vegetables. He handed them to me in a bag with the legend ‘no charge’ on it and told me to have fun.

So now I need to figure out what to do with all those lovely persimmons. Do I bake them into a cake? Cookies? A pie? Bread? Do I steam them into a pudding?

By the end of the day I’ll have not only figured it out, but created something delicious. After all, I found this site that includes recipes like curried persimmon soup and persimmon rice pudding and persimmon marmalade.

So, if you got a windfall of very, very ripe persimmons, what would you do with them?

As many of you know, I love movies. I watch a lot of them, because I love them so much. Movie channels, DVDs, I love a good movie.

The other day, I was flipping channels when I ran across the start of The Thin Man. I love the whole series. After all, it features a pair of hard-drinking socialites who solve crimes in their spare time. Plus Asta rules! What’s not to love?

Well, there was this interesting bit of dialogue concerning the mortal remains of a gentleman that had just been discovered:

He must have weighed 250 pounds if he weighed an ounce.

Here’s something. (Hands cane to Nick)

Rubber-tipped. Must have been lame.

Who wouldn’t be, carrying all that weight around?

Admittedly, it had been a very long time since I’d seen the film, but I kind of wonder why that never stood out to me before, when I’ve known people all my life who are both fatter than that and very physically active. I’ve been fatter than that (at five-foot-two, no less!) and physically active. The only person I know under the age of seventy who uses a cane does so not because he’s fat (though he happens to be), but because he blew out his kneecap many years ago while dancing at a Victorian ball (and weighing more than 250 pounds)whereupon his doctors mismanaged the injury badly. And you can’t even make a case for the incredible strain on his knee from all that weight being a factor since he’d had bad knees from childhood. Bad knees run in his family. Fat or thin, they all have problems with their knees.

Again, it just goes to prove that most people have no idea what any specific level of fat looks like. What’s more, they never did…but they’ve made a lot of assumptions about health based on misguided ideas about what fat looks like.

Nothing new under the sun. Sigh.

Another Thanksgiving has come and gone. I sincerely hope yours was as good as mine. I sat around a table with people who ate without shame, enjoyed what they had, and stopped eating when they felt they’d had enough. Nobody commented on what anyone didn’t eat, either. We just shared good conversation, good food, and gratitude for lives filled with plenty.

Since that day, I’ve been merrily eating leftovers. Leftover potatoes (I made the Patrician ones I told you about…including an extra batch for the folks at the table who couldn’t have nuts), leftover macaroni salad, leftover cranberry relish, and leftover pumpkin pie. Delicious.

I know some of you probably didn’t have quite the shame-free holiday I did. To those, I say that it doesn’t have to be that way next year.

For a start, ignore articles like this one from Cosmo. You are an adult who is free to make her own choices as to what to eat. If you like dark meat and green bean casserole, go ahead and eat them. If you want the white meat and steamed veggies, go ahead and eat them. Me? I’ll have the dark meat and the steamed veggies. Why? Because those are the things I like best.

Second, avoid sitting down to dinner with people who shame you – particularly if they expect you to make all the goodies they don’t want you to eat. I know there are circumstances where it can’t be helped, but if that’s the case, minimize the time you spend with them. Practice telling them that you’re an adult free to make your own choices. Oh, and that if you’re not ‘allowed’ to eat, you’re not willing to cook. Sometimes a little emotional blackmail can go a long way.

Thirdly, if you don’t like the traditional meal, feel free to make your own tradition. Candied yams will never, ever appear on my table because I prefer my yams savory. If you and yours are vegetarians, why on earth would you roast a turkey? Hate cranberries? They’re a tradition, not a law. Feel free to give them the bum’s rush from your tabletop. And if what really makes you feel festive is Thai food, have it. Again, you’re an adult. You get to decide what to eat.

The point of the holiday is to appreciate the good things you have in your life. Food shame is a bad thing any way you slice it. Don’t make room at your table for self-loathing. It’s a lousy party guest.

Wow. Just wow.

Last week I forced you all to view this image:

and you came up with nine hilarious captions for it. You referenced everything from Jackson Pollack to Gordon Ramsey to great effect.

Alas! There can be but one winner. This time the laurel goes to haeiley for catching me entirely off guard with this delightful caption:

The Scotch Guard test group was amazed that NOTHING would stain their chefs’ gear.

Congratulations, haeiley, and thanks to everyone who played!

Greetings, caption lovers! It’s time once again to play Twistie’s Sunday Caption Madness.

If you’ve been reading for more than a few weeks, you know how this works. If you’re new here, well, here’s how it works. I post a picture that desperately needs a good caption or seventeen. You provide said captions by submitting them to the comments box. Next saturday I declare a winner and…well, that’s about it, really. But it’s fun. Honest.

In honor of the fact that it’s Thanksgiving on thursday, I give you a salute to the following morning:

Ready…set…snark!

You know, back when turkey became the expected Thanksgiving treat, people actually cooked it more often than they tend to do these days. Sure, a lot of us have some turkey on hand in the freezer much of the time, often in the form of either ground meat, sausages, bacon, or small medallions that can be quickly cooked any night of the week for dinner.

But how many of you out there have cooked an entire turkey at any time of the year other than Thanksgiving? It’s a heck of a lot of food for a modern family, and besides we are taught from childhood that it’s a process fraught with the potential for disaster.

Consequently, we find ourselves nervous when faced with cooking a fifteen or twenty pound bird, and it winds up becoming something of a self-fulfilling prophecy. We assume it’s beyond us, and we find ourselves unprepared when the big moment comes. Lack of preparation is a huge part of kitchen failure. Knowledge is power, whether you’re talking about the boardroom, the bedroom, the closet or the oven.

So for those of you about to cook your first turkey, or those of you who haven’t done it for a while and are feeling rusty, here are a few useful tips that should help you produce a bird that is tasty and moist.

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