art of yuppies

I became a Young Urban Professional today. We listened to the Talking Heads and drank Ginger Brew that kicked me in the face with every sip. "Is this going to help our health or destroy it?" I wondered out loud yuppyishly.

What is it that is so appealing about ginger? I also wondered, but secretly. I know people who are in love with it. Not so with me. Every time I encounter it, I instantly become suspicious and defensive. It's a reflex.

Now I've had the root itself--plain. And candied ginger, ginger powder in chicken, etc.. Once, some Chinese friends gave me a warm ginger tea which was hard to wrap my heart around, but it worked well to warm me up, which was the point. But I think part of that was the energy and heat generated by my body to process the ginger as I determinedly drank it.

In Ginger Brew's defense, I also have had it in a lemon sherbet number . It ironically cured my upset stomach in an obviously medicinal way that doesn't usually correlate with desserts. But I was grateful, nonetheless.

"I kind of like how it burns your throat," L said reflectively. (Which, by the way, is the very thing that scares me.)

My favorite spice is garlic, which may not even be classified as a spice, but also goes well with chicken, and buttery things, and unlike ginger, will rarely burn throats. Except once, when the lid of the garlic container came off in the casserole before I baked it, successfully dumping in one third of the jar. I believe garlic is now my sister's most loathed spice. But I say: to each his own.