Betty Teller is an intrepid food lover and home cook who tries not to take food or life too seriously. Laugh with her about kitchen catastrophes, her endless battle with the oak tree in her yard and whatever else strikes her funny in her column amuse-bouche, appearing biweekly on the Food Page.

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Have you ever wondered, as I have, why they (the mysterious “they” who decide these things) don’t just describe all groups of birds as being in flocks? Instead, they get all flowery and say “a gaggle of geese,” “a parliament of owls,” “a stand of flamingos” and an “ostentation of peacocks.”

The out-of-town travel that I mentioned in my last column was a trip back east for a visit to the beach with my dear old friends in the Washington, D.C., area. This is a nearly annual event that I join as often as I can.

I confess I didn’t do a lot of advance planning or research for my recent railroad trip across Russia (about which, I promise, this will be the last column). I pretty much fell for the exotic phrase “Trans-Siberian Railroad” and signed on without knowing a lot more. The whole itinerary was a…

I am so disappointed in Merriam-Webster. The folks who compile that dictionary clearly have no culinary flair, no sense of adventure and no real interest in finding nuance and complexity in the words they define.

Since the advent of texting, new abbreviations like LOL, ROFL, IMHO and TTYL have all worked their way into my brain so that I no longer have to scurry to Google to figure out what someone is trying to say.

I’ve been back for more than a week from my epic trip on the Trans-Siberian Railroad and beyond, but my brain is still somewhere over the Pacific and my sleep schedule resembles that of a colicky infant. Traveling to three countries in less than three weeks will do that to you.

I have been trying to concentrate today, but I keep getting distracted. Every 10 minutes, I am compelled to stop what I am doing and open the drawer where I keep my passport to make sure it is still there, safe and sound.

I haven’t had my genome mapped, but if I ever do, I am pretty sure the scientists will isolate a genetic marker that predisposes me to travel.Perhaps it came down to me from my forebears or both sides, who must have had it in spades — after all, they were immigrants at a time when boarding a…

Someone should write me up in a study for the Journal of the America Medical Association. Scientists need to know about me. They should be observing me. I’m a medical phenomenon.

Stuff is a plague in my life. It crowds my closets, fills my shelves, overflows its boundaries and in general clutters up my space and my brain. I have made it my mission this year to get rid of as much of it as possible.

I said a final goodbye to an old friend today, but I find I’m not feeling as sad as I thought I would. It’s a loss, but one we both knew was coming. I’ve done my best to ease her transition, and I’m hopeful that she will be moving on to a better place.

When I renovated the back part of my house a decade ago, I was left with piles of random construction debris. In fact, that is a lot of what was still cluttering up the shed until I finally cleaned it out this fall.

Now why did I have to go ahead and make that New Year’s resolution that I would stop talking about my kitchen renovation all the time? If I hadn’t done that, I could be telling you about how awesomely great it is turning out.

‘Tis the season. Can you feel it in the air? At my house, it’s beginning to feel a lot like a joyous gift-giving December holiday, which in my case is Hanukkah.

I have always feared that I suffer from OCD. Among other symptoms, I hate loose ends, fixate on details, get way too much satisfaction from raking leaves and (as you know) am obsessed with the idea of cleaning my drawers. On the other hand, I am perfectly capable of overlooking the mail that…

Have you ever looked around your house and wondered, how did I get all this stuff? I do. I feel weighed down by the possessions that have accumulated over the years.

Like most people in Napa, I spent a big chunk of the last two weeks in a state of suspended animation. Even though my house was not near the fires and I was in the lucky part of town that retained power and even cellphone coverage, all I could do for days was pace around the house and obsess…

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By now, you are probably beginning to wonder if I plan to rhapsodize about every bite I ate during my recent visit to Peru. It’s tempting (and I did warn you I was going to milk the trip for every column inch I could get out of it), but I do need to move this along or we’ll still be in South…

Here’s the annoying thing about this golden age of instantaneous communication and reality TV: Even when you are thousands of miles from home and being led by a knowledgeable local guide to a less-than-promising-looking eight-table restaurant in the chef’s slightly rundown house that is only…

When I visited Lima on a brief business trip in the 1980s, I was not impressed. It was a sprawling mess of a city under perpetually gray skies. I described it as being a lot like Los Angeles — if you picked L.A. up, shook out all the money and swept it away, then dropped it back down.

For some reason, people think of me as energetic. I pretend that is so, but inside, I know the truth: I’m a sloth.

As I write this, I’m getting ready to head out of town for a short trip. Since I’ll be gone nearly a week, I have been cleaning out the fridge in anticipation.

In recent years, I have developed some moderately expensive food purchasing habits.

I am happy to report that my personal kitchen “repeal and replace” project has been going far better than the Senate’s. In fact, after an intense negotiating session with the designer last week, I’m ready to put it to a vote. And since I only have to woo one legislator (me), I think it is a …

I’m a big fan of the “Dr. Who” TV series, but if the Doctor showed up and offered to whisk me off in his TARDIS time machine, I’d probably murmur a polite “no thank you” and send him on his way. I don’t envy his constantly imperiled companions.

I had planned to use this column to give you a report on my bagel-making experiments. But if I did, it would be a pretty short article. Here’s the update:

As you deduced from my last column, I am a world-class procrastinator. Thus, you can understand my having put off buying a new computer for eight years (which is about 110 in tech years).

My dear readers, I owe you an enormous debt of gratitude. You would not believe how much I have gotten done today, and it is all because of you and your expectations that a new column will arrive to amuse you on Tuesday.

Nothing has the potential to make one aware of the changes that take place during the passage of time more than celebrating yet another birthday, as I did this month.

One of the great things about being such a highly respected food writer is that I get offered so many fabulous food-related opportunities.

Wow. I didn’t think it would ever happen, but today I discovered I actually have something in common with Paul Ryan.

I was doing so well with my dieting (well, OK, not all that well, but at least I had somewhat halted the upward trend.) But then I was sabotaged by social media.

My last column about Girl Scout cookies reminded me of this story. I started to tell it when I first began doing this column, but put it aside. I was afraid if I confessed, you would lose faith in my recipes and my ability to cook, and would stop reading.

What passed for caring parenting in the 1950s would likely result in charges of child neglect today.

With Dad gone, one of the things I miss most is his theories. Whenever I drew a blank on a column topic, he was always ready with one, from his belief that the preservatives in food increase longevity to his faith in the power of butter to grease his arteries and make the blood flow better.

I was so happy to wave goodbye to 2016 that I made a terrible mistake. I looked in the rear-view mirror to wave goodbye to it.

When I went to sleep last night, I made sure my last thought was “I need a column idea to write about tomorrow.” I find that if I do that, my subconscious works during the night and I wake up with a brilliant topic.

Are you ready for the big December holiday? I’m really looking forward to it.

For some reason I can’t quite put my finger on, all I have wanted to do recently is go to the movies, drink and fantasize about living in another country.

At the high school I attended on the East Coast, back in the dark ages, they offered four options when it came to studying a foreign language: Latin, German, French and Spanish.

Fall has undoubtedly arrived. Days are growing shorter, the light is golden, the weather has turned crisp, and rain has actually fallen onto the sad remains of my parched lawn.

I’m feeling a bit sad and nostalgic as I write this, as this week marks a year since my dad died.

Did you miss me? In case you noticed (or didn’t), I skipped writing my column last time. I was busy conducting a very important scientific experiment and couldn’t take the time to pen one.

Last week, in a lull between watching men slide through water like it was air, women run faster than a speeding bullet and muscular little girls defy the laws of gravity, I found myself with a few minutes when the Star-Spangled Banner wasn’t playing.

Say what you will about our current presidential candidates (as long as you don’t say it within my hearing — I am so thoroughly sick of this election that I plan to wear noise-canceling headphones for the next three months), but at least both of them agree on one critical issue facing our co…

Ah, the lovely sounds of summer. Lawn mowers buzzing, leaves rustling in the breeze, frogs croaking at twilight, the furtive spritz of a sprinkler system.

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When I saw that the itinerary for my Cuba trip included a farm visit, I confess I was more interested in the farm lunch we were promised than in the visit itself.

I have put off writing about the food in Cuba not because I’ve been saving the best till last, but because, alas, for the most part it lived up to its reputation of being uninspired.

We didn’t spend the whole trip in those great antique cars. Lots of times, they dropped us off at places for sightseeing adventures, and took us home to our luxe accommodations.

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I think it is all the pictures you see of old cars that did it.

A few months ago, I was sitting at my computer getting ready to write yet another column about my oak tree.

I lied in my last column when I told you I don’t watch reality TV. I confess there is one type I do watch: home improvement shows.

I don’t know if it is the time change, spring fever or something else, but I’ve been making a lot of mistakes recently. My brain seems to have been on a vacation.