Because my father was a dentist, we never had dessert when I was growing up. My mother was a good cook and we had nutritious food. There were just no sweet treats at the end of the meal.
Eventually, of course, I discovered that other families had dessert every day and if I was visiting a friend, I was happy to accept a dish of ice cream. I even asked my parents about revising their policy. The answer was always no.
“Sugar can cause cavities,” my mother repeated and my father nodded. That didn’t sound like a reason to me but it was the end of the discussion.
So I promised myself that when I became an adult and had my own apartment with my own freezer, I’d eat ice cream every day—but I didn’t. I still don’t. What seemed like a bad rule had turned into a good habit. And I’m still surprised to see dessert arrive after dinner at somebody else’s house.
Which doesn’t mean I don’t also have bad habits. Under the heading of dietary violations, I have a long list. Crusty bread, for example, with real butter. Lots of butter. Cheese and crackers. Lots of cheese.
And a cold beer. Maybe two.
