Welcome to Second Ferment! Wine pairs well with life ... and food, travel, people, work and play. Grab a glass and join me as I explore the wine scene in Ottawa, Canada, and beyond. Love hearing from my readers, so please leave a comment or drop me a line. Cheers! - Bethany

Monday, December 14, 2009

The preggo and her crazy cravings

Jim Dear: Are you sure you want watermelon, dear? Darling: Mmm-hmmm. Oh, and some chop suey, too!

- Walt Disney's Lady and the Tramp

I haven't sent Hubby out (yet) for any watermelon runs at 3 am in the dead of winter, but I've had my share of ridiculous cravings nonetheless.

First time around, I wanted seafood sauce. On everything, not just seafood. Chicken fingers, deli sandwiches, salads, hard-boiled eggs, crackers, breadsticks. Toast with seafood sauce. Pasta with seafood sauce. Hand me a spoon and let me eat the seafood sauce out of the jar. When I wasn't eating it, I could still taste it. All that did was make me want it more.

Around the three-month mark with the Doodle, on the way home from Algonquin, I absolutely HAD to have a quarter pounder with cheese, and was willing to take hostages and walk over whoever's dead body to get to it. I'm sure the woman on the other end of the drive-thru line must have thought she was talking to the lead singer of Gwar, my voice was so distorted with the urgency of needing some McDo, pronto.

This time, it's bacon. Oh sweet, delicious porcine delicacy. BLTs have been the ordre du jour; there is no time of day that isn't too early or too late for that bacon-and-tomato goodness. Put bacon on the salad, bacon in the grilled cheese, bacon in the soup. Extra bacon on the side of runny, greasy eggs over easy. Bacon-wrapped scallops. Butter up that bacon, and bacon up that sausage. I think I could honestly plow my way through one of Hubby's Bacon Explosions by myself at this point.

But we mustn't forget the mashed potatoes. Both pregnancies have warranted large bowls of buttery, creamy mash, preferably swamped in gravy. My colleagues immediately knew I was pregnant the day I went into throes of ecstasy over two scoops of mash served with the roast beef in the cafeteria. To hell with the beef, gimme those potatoes. (I did manage to restrain myself from eating a second helping.)

Those were the big ones. The rest of the time, I get some idea for a snack in my head and suddenly have to have it RIGHT NOW: dill pickle dip, smoked oysters, virgin Caesars with extra celery salt on top, poutine, my mom's clams casino, devilled eggs, Coca-Cola. Thank heavens it hasn't been pickles and ice cream. But there *are* five more months to go ... wait for it!

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