18,850 SALADS

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Addictions? Oh, yes. When it comes to food, I tend to have addictions in cycles. There was one summer, many years ago, when I was in the throes of a love disappointment, that I lived on frappucinos and plain bagels. I craved them. I went through a broccoli and baked potato phase. And I just finished a peanut butter and apples addiction.. I cannot look at peanut butter and apples now. NO. But that's after a many-month love affair.

When it comes to clothes, I'm clearly addicted to black. If you look in my closet, it's like being in a silhouette. Black, black, black. I just did a little shopping, and even the store clerk could not contain her amusement when I arrived with my choices in the dressing room. "The Hank Collection," she announced. "Black, black and black."

But if I had to finish the sentence: Not a day goes by that I do not have______"-- hmm. What would that be? I would certainly miss coffee. And my brain-alarm absolutely rings when it's time for the six o'clock news--it's actually kind of scary.

But the wonderful mystery author Kathleen George knows how she'd finish the sentence. And her answers might surprise you!

What would she miss?


Eighteen Thousand Eight Hundred and Fifty...Salads!

KATHLEEN GEORGE: I have addictions: Ice cream, chocolate, baseball, football, reading, writing, and salad. By this I mean that if a day goes by (sports in season) in which I do not do or have these fixes, I’ll feel restless, funny, unfinished. Also, let it be noted that there are a few weeks in autumn in which it is possible to get both baseball and football on the same day.

The salad thing started when I was a child. The elder, helpful child, I got a daily assignment (beyond practicing the piano and cleaning the upstairs). I was to make the family’s salad for dinner. I learned later than many Lebanese people are addicted to salad dressed in lemon and olive oil and that they have to have it daily. There was once a secretary in my department who was married to one of my countrymen and she exclaimed, “He says he needs a salad every day. He makes it.”

“Yes, I know,” I said. “Lemon and olive oil.”

Lately one of my brothers in law, said, as if he could surprise me, “ “Vivie makes a huge salad every day, I mean huge.”

“I know,” I said.

In summer the salads are glorious with the lemon and tomato juices mingling. In winter, we eat the salad anyway. Lettuces, tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, onions, sometimes mint, dressed in lemon, olive oil, lots of salt, coarse black pepper. Everything tastes better—steak, pork chops, salmon, chicken wings, lentils and rice, everything.

When I traveled on Semester at Sea, I bought a bowl in one port and thereafter each time I hit a port, I stocked up on vegetables I could store in my cabin refrigerator. In France, Cape May, Provincetown, Mexico, wherever I go, I make salad.

I read. I must read. Every day. No exceptions.

My husband taught me about writing every day whether I felt like it or not—whether I felt I was doing something good or not. “Ten years later,” he assured me, “you can’t tell the bad days from the good days.” After I started writing every day, that was it. And addiction for sure. If a doctor’s appointment can’t be rescheduled and I have to be out of the house in the morning, I am pretty growly for the day.

So I write, bad or good. I check the baseball scores. I make a salad, winter and summer. I might read or have chocolate midday. I definitely have chocolate in my ice cream at night. I definitely read before I go to sleep. Some of these are ordinary addictions, I know. Some aren't particularly healthy.

On the other hand, I think of the poor folks who need alcohol, heroin or crack. I write about them substituting one fix for another. Alcohol and Valium in combination are what keeps my character in FALLEN going, alcohol buffers the pain and guilt in AFTERIMAGE, heroin and booze mark two characters in THE ODDS, and I have a fellow who needs crack in HIDEOUT. My detective friend and mentor tells me that substance abuse us contributed to a huge amount of crimes. Might there almost be no crime without it? Wikipedia (we don't rely on it, of course!) says:

“One survey shows that in about 67% of child-beating cases, 41% of forcible rape cases, 80% of wife-battering, 72% of stabbings, and 83% of homicides, either the attacker or the victim or both had been drinking.

Addiction, the mystery writer’s friend . . . .What’s your fix?

HANK: Or--because summer's almost over: What's your favorite salad? Continuing the Jungle Red win-a-book-a-day this week: A copy of Kathy's brand new HIDEOUT to one lucky commenter!

****************************
Kathleen George is the editor of PITTSBURGH NOIR and the author of TAKEN, FALLEN, AFTERIMAGE, THE ODDS (Edgar finalist, best novel), and HIDEOUT.
Her website is www.kathleengeorge.com

And let me add: *HIDEOUT got a starred review from PW!

In Edgar-finalist George's stellar sequel to The Odds (2009), Cmdr. Richard Christie and Det. Colleen Greer of Pittsburgh Homicide look into a late-night hit-and-run, in which a young woman died. Meanwhile, brothers Jack and Ryan Rutter, the two young men in the truck that fatally struck the woman, skip town and break into an unoccupied house in Perrysville, a nearby summer community. Jack is a hapless, sweet-natured kid, but Ryan is an angry, drug-addled coward who's looking for an excuse to hurt someone. The suspense grows as the innocent people of Perrysville go about their business--and the owner of the brothers' hideout heads home for the season. An expert at handling investigative details and pacing, George makes readers care about the people who are about to confront each other. The inevitable violence hurts because it matters. Told in lean, efficient prose, this is a top-notch, emotionally satisfying police procedural. (Aug.)

Warning labels we'd like to see.....

JAN: Massachusetts is going the way of New York City and supposedly federal law is to follow: restaurant chains (with more than twenty outlets) will have to give calorie counts -- a warning of sorts - letting you know exactly how many calories are in that chicken parmesan sandwich.

More importantly, I think, because we all know a chicken parmesan sandwich is going to be an indulgence, is how many calories are actually in that goat cheese salad with dried fruit that deludes you into thinking you are dieting.

But it makes me yearn for honest warnings on any number of consumer items I fall prey to. I, for one, would like to see every glass of wine labeled. "A real glass of wine," or as in most cases, "a glass and a half of wine," or every now and then, "you are really drinking two glasses of one in this one goblet, so slow down."

Also, at CVS today, I was perusing the explosion of women's anti-aging skin products. I'm a sucker for a product that says it's going to lighten dark circles, and even though not a single one of them ever works, I'll still buy the next big promise. But it would be nice if these, and all skin care products, were labeled: big exaggeration, 100 percent delusional, and you're-actually-applying-toxins-to-your-face. . Think how much money we'd all save.

So if you could mandate the warning labels of the future, where would you put them?

RO: How about...yes these shoes will make you look taller and look as if you have legs that go from here to there and back again, but they will ultimately give you callouses, blisters and maybe even cripple you? Or...Do not apply this product to the apples of your cheeks because unlike the 20 year old in the ad who looks dewy, you will simply look radioactive with that much glow on your puss.

JAN: Exactly, and how about....this shade of red hair coloring is actually purple and will make you look vaguely European, or in extreme circumstances, like an alien.

HANK: I'm laughing too hard. "100 per cent delusional" is, somehow, the funniest thing I've ever heard. Let's see: How about on the MERGE sign on the highway? Which should say: MERGE but only if the moron in front of you decides he's gonna let you, if not, hit the accelerator (or brakes, your call) and hope the other drivers gets out of the way.

Or: These black tights will look really good and slinky for one wearing, but as soon as you sit on any kind of upholstery, they will get all snaggy and when you wash them, forget about it, the elastic in the waist is only good for one wearing.

Or: Yes, this facial cleanser costs 100 dollars, but 99 dollars is for the packaging and advertising, and 50 cents for the shipping, and 50 cents for the actual soap which includes the costs of our employees emptying the huge jars of Dove into our little containers. I rely on fooling myself with the wine thing, Jannie, so I could do without that warning label, please.

RHYS: Frankly I think the calorie labels on food are a waste of time. Those of us who care are generally savvy about what we eat. Those who supersize everything would still eat it even if a neon sign above them flashes TEN THOUSAND CALORIES AND YOU'RE GOING TO DIE YOUNG.

I saw the first Jamie Oliver special in which the school kids tipped away their fruit and ate only the chicken nuggets and pizza. Education has to begin young. I wish someone would invent a tasty fast food that is completely good for you.

And Jan--I'm also a sucker for the promises on anti-aging products (take a peek in my bathroom closet). On a bigger scale for delusional promises--how about Peace-keeping force that will actually produce peace??

JAN: AMEN. And on anti-aging products, I've created a new rule. I have to FINISH the anti-aging product I recently bought and doesn't work, BEFORE I can buy the new anti-aging product that also won't work.

ROBERTA: (Whining a little because we just got home from sunny Florida)--how about spring meaning better weather than 42 degrees, windy, and raining? (And just having driven a long ways up the east coast)--how about the traffic law that says you don't pass on the right applying to everyone?

I'm sort of in favor of the calorie thing--maybe it will end up being a little contribution to food education. And here's another travel rant--we stopped at a rest stop on the good old Jersey turnpike. You know how hard it was to find something to eat that wasn't fried and disgusting? And how was that restful?

Okay I'm finished. Better go slather some stuff on my face and pour one of Hank's glasses of wine. And Rhys, your peacekeeping force is the best idea of all...

JAN: Welcome home Roberta, you'll get used to the awful New England weather again in no time. Maybe each region of the country should come with its own warning. I'll start with New England, WINTERS ARE LONG, SPRING IS AN EMPTY PROMISE and despite the whole northern climate thing, SUMMER IS REALLY HOT.

Come back tomorrow when we talk about new phrases in the English language we are not too old fogey to like. And in the meantime, tell us... where would you put your warning labels?