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*[Not to be confused with Morris Dithers' answer in this classic SCTV skit.]
[The main course table from my recent holiday potluck with nutritionist friends, clockwise from top left: [out of the photo--Balsamic Glazed Brussels Sprouts]; Southwest Brown Rice Casserole with Beans [white bowl behind cutlery]; Tempeh-Brown Rice Curry and Vegetables; Baby Spinach Salad; Rutabaga Gratin; Cinque Pizza with olives, green pepper, faux meat and onion; and (in red casserole in center) Carrot and Sweet Potato Latkes. The latkes were fried–I have no idea what kind of oil she used. Yes, I ate one.]
In recent years, it seems, we’ve all become hyper aware of the connection between food and health; it’s one of the hottest topics on the internet, twitter, blogs, or in magazines; you can’t read anything, flick on the television or listen to the radio without someone discussing a new study or mentioning a specific food and how it is or is not good for us. Goji berries? Superfood. Kale? Will save your eyes. Sugar? The devil. Trans fats? Avoid at all costs. Refined flours? Shortcut to a heart attack. And so on. How do you decide what to eat?
Well, I had originally planned to tackle this rather amorphous topic in the new year, once we’d all recovered a bit from the holidays and I had more time to craft a thoughtful post about it (since I’ll be on vacation then–whoo hoo!). Instead, I’m going to leap right in today after receiving the following comment on the Simply Bar giveaway post (the first part in quotation marks is what I wrote in the original post itself):
“In addition, the company has prided itself on using real, natural ingredients, without any added fillers in their bars. For example, the “Cocoa with Raspberry” flavor contains soy crisps (like rice crisps in texture and taste), organic agave nectar, organic brown rice syrup, organic cocoa, raspberries, organic canola oil.” Six ingredients–that’s it!”
SOY CRISPS! has the world gone mad? I appreciate that these bars only have a few ingredients in them, but they are a few, highly processed ingredients.
Soy crisps – a bean that is only truly digestible when fermented, is processed into a crisp?
Canola oil – oil that is high in inflammation promoting omega 6, processed from rapeseeds and should only be eaten raw.
Agave syrup – the sugars of the agave cactus without the natural brake of fibre, controversy rages about whether it is low or high GI.
Brown Rice syrup – sugars inherent in rice – highly processed, super high GI, even though it’s brown rice!
Only six ingredients? Whatever happened to the good old nut and fruit bars of my childhood made entirely from nuts and dried fruit? I’d rather have a bar of dark chocolate than one of these!
Since I not only promoted the bar on my blog but actually eat them, I felt a response was in order (and I will respond to the email itself toward the end of the post).
First, let me outline how I decide what to eat and what not to eat; here, then, are the principles I follow and firmly believe in when it comes to “eating healthfully.” (This is not a post about how to keep to a healthy diet over the holidays; I dealt with that subject here. )
[African Sweet Potato Stew--pretty darned good for you.]
I. Aim for a Diet That’s 100% “Good-for-You”. . . .
More than anything else about food, I believe that we are, literally, made up of what we put into our mouths, whether food, drink, or breath. Whether fresh or rancid, pesticide-laden or organic, whole grain or refined, local or imported, dirt-still-clinging-to-its-roots or packed in a BPA-lined bag inside a box, food will contribute to the makeup of every cell in your body.
In nutrition school, we learned about a diet called NAG–Natural, Alive, and Good Quality. I wrote more about it in this post. Basically, the diet aims to include only real, whole, unprocessed and organic ingredients, with most (if not all) nutrition coming from plant sources. Lucky for me, I love healthy foods (I also happen to love unhealthy foods–but that’s a topic for another post).
My own tweaks to the NAG foundation were made because of the anti-candida diet I now follow (about which I wrote more here and here), and include, for the most part: no sugar (and most other sweeteners), no sweet fruits; nothing fermented (with a few exceptions); nothing moldy or yeasty (mushrooms, nutritional yeast, alcoholic beverages, many nuts and some fruits, etc); nothing highly processed (packaged or most canned goods); no gluten; very few legumes; no eggs or dairy. (The ACD typcially allows organic chicken, beef and fish, but I don’t eat those.) I include tofu occasionally, which is considered “acceptable” in about half the anti-candida diets out there (there is quite a bit of variation about what is included in the diet).
With the ACD, you will ideally re-introduce many of the banned foods after you’ve been following it for a while and are feeling better. For instance, now that I’ve been on the diet for over two years and am 90% better, I am eating some fruits, using (gluten free) flours, and consuming the very occasional treat with agave nectar or coconut sugar.
About my own eating habits, let me be clear: during the first couple of phases of the ACD, I followed the diet one hundred percent, 100% of the time–I never “cheated.” That’s because I was in great distress about my poor health and wanted to heal as quickly as possible. However, as one of our teachers at nutrition school remarked, even following the ACD “most of the time” will, eventually, lead to diminished yeast in the body and better health; it will just take longer.
[This would definitely be a rare treat. . . even if I weren't on the ACD. Cake recipe in Sweet Freedom; frosting here.]
II. . . .90% of the Time.
Just as highschool graduates might send their first applications to Ivy League schools; as aspiring editors aim to nab a spot at a ”big house” like Farrar, Straus and Giroux; or as newly-graduated life coaches dreams of being on Oprah, when it comes to eating, I believe we should endeavor to eat only the best quality, healthiest foods. But what happens when the grad isn’t accepted by Harvard or Yale; if the young editor is offered a job at Harlequin; or the life coach lands a local radio spot instead? Do they decline the lesser offer, or worse–give up entirely? Of course not.
In an ideal universe, I’d be eating a top-notch, 100% “perfect” diet all the time. My meals would be 70% raw, all organic, as close as possible to the condition they’re in when they’re plucked from the ground, and entirely unprocessed–things like this, or this, or this. While I may have lofty ideals when it comes to food and eating, I understand that reality doesn’t always comply. Consequently, I try not to beat myself up if I can’t achieve that ideal. If I can remain compliant 90% of the time, I’m okay with having something less than perfect the other 10%. (Certainly, there are other food bloggers out there who manage such menus far more often–and more consistently–than I).
For example, I’ve mentioned before that the HH enjoys eating in restaurants, and we still frequent them occasionally. I’ve found a couple of places that actually serve ACD-friendly food (at one, ”Israeli Salad” consisting of fresh cucumber, tomato and onion with olive oil and lemon juice alongside hummus; at the other, gluten free pizza crust with toppings of my choice, usually roasted garlic, baked tomato, red onion, spinach and black olives). As a result, we tend to patronize either of those most of the time.
Once a month, though, we head to a Malaysian restaurant I adore. They’re willing to provide vegan options and also hold the sugar at my request. Great! But I am fairly certain that they don’t grease their woks with organic coconut oil (or anything organic, for that matter); and I am not willing to stress about this. If I consume a small quantity of less-than-healthy oil once a month, I rely on the remaining 90% of my uber-healthy diet to compensate; it’s worth it to me to be able to enjoy the rest of the meal.
[source]
III. Listen to your body.
For the past couple of years, I’ve been rediscovering books by Geneen Roth and am devoted to her intuitive approach to eating–letting your body determine when, what and how much you eat. The woman has effectively peeked into my psyche (and my pantry), and I relate to her ideas on food as psychological comfort, how food serves many other purposes besides nourishment, and how we can learn to enjoy eating in the most natural and instinctive fashion. I’m not entirely “there” yet when it comes to attending to my body’s messages, but I’m learning.
I had my first epiphany about listening to my body only about a month ago, when I first began to experiment with coconut sugar. Having baked only with stevia (and a miniscule amount of yacon or agave) until then, being able to use a one-for-one sugar replacement was thrilling. I went a little crazy in the kitchen, baking cookies, brownies, bars, muffins and whatever else I could think of. I also tasted them all. . . and then some. I probably ate more baked goods in that week than I had in the previous six months. If that episode had occurred two years ago, it would likely have spiralled into an endless round of sweet binges, fuelled by sugar and guilt and the rationalization that “it’s the holidays.”
Instead, something odd occurred: I suddenly didn’t feel like eating so many sweets any more. My body said, “Give me kale! Give me black bean soup! Give me cinque e’ cinque!” (somehow, my body managed to pick up Italian while I was sleeping). I averted a crisis simply by listening to the physical signals I routinely ignored in the past. It felt great, and I’m striving to improve my skills in that area, and practise it more often. Your body intuitively knows what’s good for you. Listen to it.
[Meant to be eaten with friends: Pumpkin Bread Pudding with Caramel Sauce.]
IV. Lighten Up (Are We Having Fun Yet?)
Earlier yesterday on twitter, a famous vegan cookbook author asked, “Q: how much oil in a recipe before you won’t make it? Does mention of 1/2 c olive oil freak anyone out? 1/3 cup better? What is OK?”. Well, I think the answer depends on several factors. What kind of oil is it? How many servings does the recipe make? How much of it will I be eating at one sitting? How often will I eat it? Half cup (the amount in the recipe) is 8 tablespoons (120 ml) or 24 teaspoons (24 x 5 ml). If the dish yields 20 servings (a baked dessert), that’s less than 2 teaspoons per serving. If it’s a main course that makes 8-10 servings, it’s still 1 tablespoon or less per serving–less than most people use on one salad. Mostly, I wouldn’t think twice if the dish were a special occasion recipe–it’s only once in a while, anyway.
What struck me about the exchange was the idea that based on the amount of oil alone, people would eschew the entire recipe. I know people who eat raw coconut oil by the tablespoon, yet the idea of 1/2 cup in an entire recipe is anathema.
A while back, I was asked in a comment on this post about whether roasting nuts renders them less healthy–and, of course, the short answer is “yes.” But do I want to eat raw nut butter all of the time? No. I like the taste of toasted nuts better than the taste of raw nuts. Nuts still contain healthy fats. They are still a real food. So I eat them toasted sometimes, and I don’t worry about it.
My point is that you can be so focused on the health-related characteristics of your food that you overlook the fact that food is supposed to taste good and confer pleasure. As Andrew Weil notes in his book, Eating Well for Optimum Health, a rigid adherence to eating only “healthy” foods can negate the pleasure we get from sharing our meals with others–and sometimes the social contact is more important to our health than the absolute quality of the food we’re eating.
Which brings me back to the comment that started it all. Here’s my response to each of the points made by the commenter:
Soy crisps – a bean that is only truly digestible when fermented, is processed into a crisp? Yes, soy crisps are processed (they contain non-GMO soy protein, tapioca starch and salt); see my comments above about 90%/10%. As I’ve mentioned before, even though fermented soy is more easily digestible than non-fermented (eg, tofu), I do not avoid tofu or other non-fermented soy (eg, soymilk) in moderation. It is a great source of protein and contains isoflavones that are advantageous in myriad ways, plus many other health benefits. While it’s not for everyone (you can read about the pros and cons yourself), for me, soy’s numerous health benefits–and the fact that it’s been a staple food in many Asian cultures for centuries–makes it a desirable food.
Canola oil – oil that is high in inflammation promoting omega 6, processed from rapeseeds and should only be eaten raw. As far as I know (or can find information in my nutrition texts and online), canola oil is considered a “monounsaturated fat” because it contains mostly (about 55%) monounsaturated fatty acids. Like any oil, canola is made up of mono-, poly- and saturated fats in different ratios. It does contain Omega 6 oil, but it also contains a larger percent of Omega 3. In any case, unless the canola is organic and cold pressed, I wouldn’t want to consume it at all. Like any oil that is liquid at room temperature, canola is best when unheated. It might not be my first choice for baking or cooking (I don’t ever use it at home); however, I am not too concerned about eating a snack with it on occasion (see point II, above).
Agave syrup – the sugars of the agave cactus without the natural brake of fibre, controversy rages about whether it is low or high GI. I know that some people think agave is evil. I am not one of those people. The glycemic index (GI) of agave, when organic and processed without excess heat or chemicals, is relatively low (38 or so). Like any other natural sweetener, agave is harmful in large quantities. However, having read several articles about it, I’ve decided that, for me, agave is a good sweetener as long as it’s organic and not overly processed. Like maple syrup, it requires some processing to convert the raw sap into what we buy in the store. It is still a delicious, low glycemic sweetener–but like any sweetener, should be eaten in small quantities and as a treat.
Brown Rice syrup – sugars inherent in rice – highly processed, super high GI, even though it’s brown rice! Again, brown rice syrup is a traditional natural sweetener that’s been used for ages. The sugars inherent in rice are no worse, as far as I can tell, than the sugars inherent in wheat, spelt, millet, or any other grain. And while some processing is, of course, required to convert rice to a sweetener, I have been able to find absolutely no corroboration that brown rice syrup is high GI. Most of the articles I’ve come across list its glycemic index as around 25-35–rather low.
Given my own approach to healthy eating, I am comfortable consuming snacks such as The Simply Bar on occasion. If the bars’ ingredients don’t jibe with what you think is healthy, please, don’t eat them. I’m grateful to the commenter for prompting me to examine my viewpoint on these ingredients and articulate my eating philosophy in general.
["Does this mean we get to listen to our bodies, too, Mum? Because my body is telling me that it's time you gave me a treat."]
Perhaps most importantly when it comes to our diets, however, is that I believe each of us must make our own informed choices about the food we put in our mouths. If my approach doesn’t resonate with you, that’s fine; there are many other approaches out there to pursue. With so many sources of illness in our world–toxins, pollution, carcinogens, molds, bacteria, germs, viruses, electromagnetic pollution–I could go on–I think it’s essential that we don’t allow ourselves to become bogged down in the negative impact of them all. It’s still possible to eat well and enjoy your food while keeping an eye open to the possible drawbacks.
Whew! And if you made it this far in the post, well, I think you deserve a reward. Go get yourself a huge piece of chocolate, or maybe a (thin) slice of cake–made with real, organic ingredients, of course. 
I’d love to hear what you think about the issue–what constitutes a “healthy” diet in your mind?
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Last Year at this Time:Flash in the Pan/Gastronomic Gift: Brazil Nut-Cilantro Pesto (all stages of ACD; gluten free)
Two Years Ago: Gastronomic Gifts III: Marzipan-Topped Shortbread Cookies (not gluten free; ACD maintenance only)
Three Years Ago: Pumpkinseed Shortbread Buttons (gluten free; ACD maintenance only)
© 2010 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
I know I said I’d relegate comments about my Total Health program to a coda each week, but last night’s class spurred such a barrage of ideas that I wanted to set them down (despite last week’s blathering about eating styles–we all know how well that one went over). So be warned: this entry features no recipe, and it’s about dieting. Please feel free to skip if that’s not of interest!
When I first started this blog back in late October (six months yesterday!!), I wrote quite frequently about my diet and (tenuous) attempts to lose weight. I actually never intended it to morph into a food blog, but once I started reminiscing about different recipe origins, preparation methods, ingredient sources, etc., it seemed to move naturally in that direction (at least, most of the time). I preferred to write about the dishes themselves rather than my reactions to, or feelings about, them.
Well, one of our “assignments” last week in my Total Health course was to “eat without distractions.” From what I gleaned from our instructions, this meant virtually the same thing as “eating mindfully.” For any of you who’ve read Jon Kabat Zinn’s seminal book on mindful living, Full Catastrophe Living, this concept is familiar. In the book, Zinn suggests eating a raisin with full attention to its shape, color, texture, smell, size, mouthfeel, taste, and effect on your emotional or psychological state. Giving that wrinkled grape your full awareness while consuming it takes several minutes at the least, and you’d presumably experience every nuance, every physical reaction, every sensory impact of consuming that raisin.
I was a little hesitant to embrace this homework, as my schedule these days is beyond hectic and I feel I barely have time to heave a heavy sigh before the day is over. But I did it. Breakfast became a private communion between me and my oatmeal (or scone, or almond butter-topped apple, etc.) as I cleared the table and sat and ate. . . mindfully.
And what did I discover? That my mind didn’t have very much to contribute to the exercise. That I didn’t like it. Not one bit.
For me, trying to focus exclusively on my food as I observed, smelled, tasted and then mused upon it was like “torture lite”–maybe not a figurative year in a Medieval prison, but more like recess trapped in the corner of the schoolyard with the class bully. As with meditation, my mind kept wandering, I found myself scanning the rest of the room as if searching for a deus ex machina to release me from my penance, and I twitched and evaded and couldn’t wait for it to be over.
Me? Wishing EATING would be over?? It’s unheard of!
In our class last evening, I raised the issue. Was I the only one who’d had a hard time with it? Apparently, yes. For the rest of the class (to be fair, not everyone actually did the exercise, so I don’t know about those few who didn’t), eating with no distractions was like an oasis of peace and calm in an otherwise crazy welter of their days. One woman even said that she’d come to rely on her breakfast ritual, in particular, as a way to start her morning on the right note, and felt unmoored without it.
According to our instructor, sitting one-on-one with your food and forcing yourself to focus exclusively on it accomplishes a few things. First, you are more aware of the quality of the food itself. As she mentioned last week, it’s virtually impossible to plunk yourself down and devour a cannister of Pringles mindfully. I found that to be true as well (not that I’ve eaten Pringles in the last decade or so): once you know you must to sit and attend to every puff of popcorn, or every corn chip, or even every goji berry, one at a time, over and over, the idea of grabbing a quick snack between writing assignments doesn’t hold the same allure. Similarly, if you’re eating food that is of poor quality, paying close attention to every sniff and bite will only highlight that fact, and you may find you’re not as inclined to scarf down that McDonald’s burger and fries quite so often.
In addition, eating mindfully slows down the process of how you select, bite, chew, and swallow the food, so bingeing is virtually eliminated. When I succumb to a chocolate binge, I’m not paying very close attention to the quantity I ingest. Basically, I eat as much as there is, until it’s gone (which is why I try not to keep it in the house). With mindful eating, however, I realized very quickly that I didn’t need all that much to fill my belly. After one apple (cut in segments and smeared with about a tablespoon of almond butter) for breakfast, I realized I’d had enough. Maybe I wasn’t used to this bizarre new physical awareness, and it made me uncomfortable.
Finally, I realized that this exercise simply highlighted for me how much I’m overstuffing my schedule as well, and how I usually attempt to fit in too many items in a day; so many, in fact, that taking an extra hour or two to consume meals in isolation throws off the rest of the itinerary. As I sat chewing my apple with awareness, I was also painfully cognizant of the newspaper draped across the opposite corner of the table, and that my solo meal meant I wouldn’t have another moment to read it that day (well, my teacher would say, you shouldn’t be reading the paper anyway–too much negative energy).
I’m going to try to stick with the practise, despite my discomfort. For one thing, it’s helped me to determine whether or not I really want to eat something before I dig in; if it’s worth stopping my current activity to sit down and spend some alone time with a food, then I figure I must really feel like having it at that moment. Our instructor promises that the purpose of the exercise is to create a greater appreciation of what we eat, and, ultimately, a greater enjoyment of the food. I’m waiting for that to happen. In the meantime, I am glad for the decreased caloric intake.
This week’s homework: incorporate greens into the diet once a day, along with cultured veggies. Recipe coming up!
I wouldn’t have believed it myself if it hadn’t happened to me personally (why, yes, you’re absolutely right, that does sound like the opening line of a letter to Penthouse Forum! But sorry, it’s not).
Two whole days, and I have consumed not one single sweet. No cookies. No cake. No muffins, even. But best of all: no chocolate! My small intestine is saying, “thank you.” My gastric juices are whispering, “we appreciate the time off.” My liver is chanting, “Bless you, my child.” The scale is even winking at me in gratitude. The Girls–well, they’re not as thankful. (“We really do miss getting the leftover bits of those oatbran banana muffins, Mum.“)
How did I accomplish such a feat, you ask? Well (like so much else in my life, unfortunately), it wasn’t a conscious choice. I have discovered since our new semester began this week that it is just soooo much easier for me to eat healthfully when I have some distraction. During the past two days, I’ve had distraction squared. Exponential distraction. To wit, dozens of students emailing with questions, numerous pieces of coursework to put into place, several meetings with colleagues, coordinators and Chairs (and chairs, too, actually), a cooking class to present in a major grocery store, a doctor’s appointment, and myriad other little errands and domestic tasks that I’ve left by the wayside for too long (hmmmm. .. why don’t we see just how long we can live without unpacking the second half of our kitchen, still in boxes from our recent move?)
On some level, I guess I know that my dietary habits are curbed by being busy, so I tend to overbook myself, sometimes to the point of exhaustion. But hey, I like it that way; I get too stressed out when I’m not so busy that I’m stressed out.
It just seems that the ability to exert willpower over poor dietary choices is much more effective when I have many things to occupy my time and mind. This fact tends to convince me that my eating is, indeed, emotional, as I am able to easily ignore even the most insistent rumbling of my stomach during times that I’m involved in what Mihály Csíkszentmihályi (I swear, that’s his real name) would call a “Flow” activity.
I guess I’ve always been someone who requires structure and consistency to be comfortable and stave off anxiety. As an undergraduate, I was exceedingly organized, so much so that I could work part time, go to school full-time, be a teaching assistant part-time, and still have a social life. I was one of those annoying students who elicited the gag reflex in others by always having her course readings done (with notes) before class, and always finishing essays long before the due date (though I never actually handed them in before the due date, because I didn’t want my professors to think I hadn’t used the maximum time allotted, thereby designating me a slacker).
When it comes to my eating habits, however, I tenaciously resist the idea of structure. Why? There have certainly been times in my life when I did diet according to “Diet Rules,” whatever fashion dictated they were at the time.
Ah, nostalgia: I remember clearly when The Nurse first explained to me (a mere tyke at the time!) about the concept of calories. The rules were easy: it didn’t matter where you got your calorie buzz as long as your sinful activity never exceeded a certain number per day (I think it was 1000 at that time). You could eat anything you wanted, no matter how decadent, and you’d still lose 5 pounds a week as long as you followed the rules. But if you went too far, or enjoyed too much, you’d pay for breaking those rules by growing fatter and fatter, and your friends would ultimately reject you. So we went on a chocolate cake diet, eating one slice of it for breakfast, one for lunch, and one for dinner in order to lose weight. (Come to think of it, that was also about the time she explained the birds and the bees to me as well, so maybe I’m getting those two sets of rules mixed up.)
Later on was the “same thing for each meal” diet (not to be confused with the previous one, which is technically the “same thing for every meal” diet). In its second incarnation, the diet prescribed a bowl of corn flakes with skim milk for breakfast, a salad and orange for lunch, and chicken and vegetables for dinner. At that time, I was working lunch hours in the high school cafeteria, so I’d get my orange and salad for free (I know, I can get my entire lunch for free, and what do I pick? Salad and an orange). Back then, in my early teens, that diet also worked beautifully. I did lose weight, my first large weight loss. Unfortunately, I also lost my period and felt pretty crappy most of the time. (Oh, and losing the weight didn’t help me get a boyfriend, either. Bummer.)
I could go on (but I’ll spare you). Suffice it to say that, over the years, I tried sundry and various ways to lose weight, always keeping it off for a short time (except my one big “lose,” after which I maintained my slim self for about a decade). But eventually, I gained back the weight in the most cliched fashion, even surpassing the previous “high” weight.
Lack of success in the past may explain why I’m diet-shy at the moment and bristle at any mention of counting points, calories, carbs, fat grams, or anything else that would cause me to practise my rusty addition or subtraction skills before eating. I am truly thankful that I haven’t felt the urge to consume anything unhealthy in the past two days, but I’m still not entirely sure why that’s been the case.
What I’m aiming for, eventually, is to regain the power in that equation (there’s that darn math again!), allowing me to assume conscious control of whether or not I lean toward the slice of chocolate cake or the scrambled tofu for dinner. And judging by the last couple of days, it would make sense to examine just what it is that distraction offers. Because in the end, I think it’s far preferable to meander through your days, relaxed and aware, than to rush through a predetermined schedule just to avoid the temptation of unhealthy eating.
There’s nothing better than celebrating a special holiday with balance. A bounty of food and alcohol may abound, but the best approach is to simply eat well, eat with a level head, and enjoy the abundance without going overboard. Wake up the next day feeling great, ready to take on the day as if the previous night’s festivities never happened. Hmmm. . . too bad I wasn’t able to accomplish that this year.
I’m guessing it will likely take a few days before my body feels like itself again. Despite the best of intentions, I must have taken the wrong cue from The Girls, eating as if I might never again have the opportunity to fill up on any of this stuff (and really, some of it wasn’t even worth having again! “Dump Cake“?? Whatever possessed me to acquiesce to my HH’s wishes for that thing? And then–eating two portions of it? Even if I did buy organic cake mix in a meager attempt to convert it to something a smidgen more salubrious. . . Gak.)
(“But Mum! Everything was wonderful–we just loved Christmas! And what’s wrong with eating something special once in a while? Or on every occasion you can get it? Turkey, Mum–Turkey. We. want. turkey.”)
The ideal experience at a holiday feast, for me, would be to enjoy a moderate portion of everything, including dessert, and possess the innate ability to simply stop when I’d had enough. (Forgot to use the small plate/two item trick at my own holiday dinner–did that have something to do with it?). Instead, yesterday, I found myself drawn to the least healthy elements of the meal–repeatedly. Today, I don’t feel so hot.
Perhaps that’s a good thing, though. For “normal” eaters, the “STOP EATING” switch goes off much faster than it does for those of us with a propensity to overindulge. But I can honestly say that, finally, my own switch has tripped, and I am craving–seriously, craving–vegetables. It may have taken me a lot longer than it took my honey, but I got there. In the old days, I might have gone on a binge for days, finishing up the dessert leftovers in one afternoon. Today, I’m at the point where all I’d like to do with that Dump Cake is dump it in the garbage can.
One of the principles that keeps coming to mind is Newton’s Law, that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Since the law applies to everything governed by the laws of physics, it would, of course, also include the way we eat and how our bodies react to the way we eat. In other words, overdo it one way, and your body will subtly suggest that you underdo it the next. This is a principle that my friend Karen, in her book Secrets of Skinny Chicks, documented well. As her subjects told her, when slim women pig out at a special occasion, they always compensate the following day, either by eating less or exercising more. I suppose this is a variation of the approach I adopted when I skipped dinner after overdoing the Halloween chocolates. And today? Treadmill, here I come. (Oh, and my Holidailies entry, of course).
Another facet of this principle is one perfectly summed up by Sally in her great blog, Aprovechar. In her post, Sally compared the patterns of eating/overeating to the financial principle of opportunity cost. In other words, every opportunity brings with it a certain cost, and if you assess the cost beforehand, it can help you decide whether or not to take the opportunity. I knew that last night’s dinner would cost me today (perhaps not quite as much as it seems to be doing, what with the backflips in my stomach, but still), and I made a conscious choice to eat anyway. For me, true progress will be achieved once I learn to make a better choice, with a lesser cost.
Still, today’s craving for veggies is progress of a sort. And while it may be difficult to find something positive in overeating, I am determined to let my body learn what it can and cannot comfortably do when it comes to food. The initial mistake was allowing the unhealthy food into the house in the first place, but the ultimate goal remains the same: being able to enjoy a variety of foods (including dessert) at a multi-course meal, and naturally stopping when comfortably full. That kind of action will signal a huge milestone in the way I approach food.
In the meantime, I’m off to raid the fridge for some broccoli and carrots. And I’ll just glance away as my HH polishes off that Dump Cake. (“Did you say carrots, Mum? Because we love those. Especially with turkey.”)
Well, since I didn’t make it to the gym today to record my weight, my HH and I decided to go out to brunch instead. (But of course! If you can’t exercise, may as well eat.)
We do this a lot, it seems. For me, the allure is the meal itself; breakfast foods have always trumped lunch or dinner in my mind. For my HH, it’s simply the act of going out to eat. (Apparently, at one point in his twenties, he lived in an apartment for 2 years and never once turned on the stove.).
Rather than bore you with the menu from today’s excursion, I thought I’d share a recipe for one of my favorite brunch foods, pancakes. So often, the ones you get in restaurants are heavy, wet, and shiny with griddle grease (how appetizing!). The recipe that follows, however, really does live up to its name. You’ll find these light, fluffy, and, as their eponymous title suggests, cake-like.
To avoid overdoing the maple syrup when I eat these, I prefer to pour syrup on the side and daintily dip my pieces of pancake one at a time into it (rather than slathering it over the top of the stack, as in the photo, below). This way, the pancakes don’t soak up too much of the syrup at one time (as they tend to do), and there’s no need to repeatedly re-pour when the pancakes start to appear dry on top.
Another way I like to eat these (perhaps while reading some Holidailies entries?) is topped with fruit-only jams–blackberry and mango are favorites–and forgo the syrup entirely.
For the omnivores out there, feel free to use regular milk instead of soy or rice milk, and replace the flax seeds with 2 eggs.
Fluffy Fruited Pancakes
These light and foolproof pancakes are great with berries, apples, pears, or bananas. Unlike most vegan versions, they provide a good amount of protein on their own, due to the protein powder added to the batter. You can use leftovers for another day’s breakfast or lunch: simply spread one pancake with your favorite nut butter and/or jam, then top with another pancake for a quick and delicious pancake “sandwich.”
1-3/4 cups soy or rice milk
2 Tbsp. ground flax seeds or 1/2 cup silken tofu
2 tsp. apple cider vinegar
3 tablespoons sunflower or other mild tasting oil
1 Tbsp. agave nectar or maple syrup
1-3/4 cups whole spelt flour
2 Tbsp. unflavored protein powder (rice or soy are ideal); you may substitute soy or chickpea flour, sifted
1 Tbsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. sea salt
1 cup berries or chopped apple, pear or banana
Measure the soy milk into a measuring cup and add the flax, vinegar, oil and agave, stirring well (if using silken tofu, blend all ingredients in a blender or food processor until smooth). Set aside while measuring remaining ingredients, or for at least 2 minutes.
In a large bowl, sift the flour, protein powder, baking powder, baking soda and sea salt. Pour the wet ingredients over the dry and mix just to blend (there should still be a few lumps here and there). Gently fold in the fruit.
Heat a nonstick pan over medium heat (spray the pan with olive oil spray if desired). Using an ice-cream scoop or large spoon, measure out about 1/4 cup batter for each pancake and spread slightly in the pan.
Cook each pancake about 3-4 minutes per side, until golden brown and puffed up. Serve immediately. Refrigerate or freeze leftovers for later use (may be defrosted in the toaster). Makes 10-12 pancakes.
[This recipe will also appear in my upcoming cookbook, Sweet Freedom, along with more than 100 others, most of which are not featured on this blog. For more information, check the "Cookbook" button at right, or visit the cookbook blog.]
On my first day at nutrition school our lecturer was a petite woman resembling Natalie Portman: a teeny, tiny brunette with a regal air about her. As she expounded on macrobiotic diets and food combining and fat metabolism, I couldn’t help but think, “All these nutritionists here who are, like, a size two and never had a weight problem in their lives—how am I ever going to feel like I belong to that club?”
Well, subsequently, I discovered that this sylph-like woman had actually lost 50 pounds during her first year as a student at that same school, a result of following the very eating plan she now advocated (and the one I’m pursuing, the NAG diet). Oops. My bad, as they say. Still, that didn’t change my mind about the majority of professional dieticians and their unsuitability to dispense advice to those of us who are willpower-challenged.
Consequently, what I decided to do in today’s post is have some fun (almost as much fun as Holidailies!) and assess a few of the numerous websites purporting to deliver the last word on avoiding weight gain during the holiday season, when most of us pack on an extra 7-12 pounds.
Please note: this is a purely personal opinion. These sites were chosen at random, and I have no idea how well the ideas they present actually work in reality. I’m only responding to whether or not they’d work for me.
First up is this article at Suite 101. The five tips for preventing weight gain over the holidays include:
- Curb alcohol consumption.
- Stop eating when full.
- Deal with hunger.
- Use a smaller plate.
- Curb emotional eating.
I wondered, Has this writer ever actually known an overweight person? We’re not fat for nothing. Uh, hello, news flash: if I could just “stop eating when full,” I wouldn’t be fat. (I used to have a friend who said that, during the holidays at her house, you hadn’t eaten enough if you left the table without feeling nauseated. That’s a family that understands overeating.) Ditto if I had already mastered emotional eating—there’d be no problem if I could simply “curb” it.
I did like the writer’s suggestion to “use a smaller plate,” however. In his 2006 best-seller Mindless Eating: Why We Eat More Than We Think, Brian Wansink explains this phenomenon of people eating more when they use larger plates. (His study also implies that it would behoove all us fatties to eat only monochromatic meals for best diet results, but that’s taking it a bit too far).
Unfortunately, when the article writer then went on to explain, “This works with smaller bowls for soups, and plates for dinners, appetizers and even deserts,” well, he lost me. I just can’t imagine how much water I’d need to wash it down after consuming even a small desert (all that sand and everything).
Rating: 42,000 extra calories (12 lb.) consumed with this advice.
Another expert-supported site was the Cleveland Clinic’s “Eight Steps to Surviving Holiday Weight Gain.” In this case, the advice seemed a little more realistic (since it is, after all, backed by their successful diet clinic). A couple of the suggestions did, however, sound patently preposterous.
For instance, they recommend that you “make a pact with co-workers that goodies will be kept solely in the break room, not at the front desk or in various offices.” And while you’re at it, may as well ask them to stop stealing your ideas and taking credit for them, gossiping during coffee breaks, or arriving late to meetings, too.
The single piece of advice that riles the most, however, is the one that seems to surface in every “how not to gain weight over the holidays” article. Here it is: “Never Go To A Party Hungry.”
How many dieticians, personal trainers, nutritionists, doctors, and other professionals have said something like this to you: “Oh, be sure to eat something before you go. That way, you’ll already be satisfied, so you won’t be hungry and overeat once you get there.” I don’t know about you, but whether or not I’ve just eaten before arriving at a party is totally irrelevant when I get there. If I see food I adore, I want to eat it. Period. Even if I already ate something before I got there. Even if it was a three course meal. Even if I’m already full.
So I eat before I go to the party, and then arrive to the tantalizing display of punch bowls brimming with nutmeg-dusted eggnog, trays overflowing with cute little star-shaped orange-pistachio shortbread and frosted chocolate-cherry cookies, triple-layer cakes adorned with crushed candy canes, dainty trays of Kalhua truffles, individual pots of chocolate mousse, (God help me) platters of mincemeat tarts—that’s it, game over, I’m doomed long before I even get started on the real “food” (never mind the champagne).
I know that the theory behind this last one is, “a person can consume only so many calories before feeling full, so if that person arrives at the party already having consumed sufficient calories, overindulging will not ensue.” Again, this writer has probably never really known, and certainly never was, a fat person.
I really like the Cleveland Clinic’s final piece of advice, though: “Focus on Socializing.” After all, to paraphrase Woody Allen’s character at the end of Crimes and Misdemeanors, it’s our closest relationships, with the people we care most about, that ultimately confer meaning to “the indifferent universe.” (Okay, along with chocolate.) But focusing on the people in our lives provides not only a feeling of belonging, a feeling of being cared for, a feeling of satisfaction—it also acts as a great distraction, so that overeating may never enter our minds (or our mouths) in the first place.
Rating: 24,5000 extra calories (7 lb.) consumed with this advice.
Finally, getting back to Wansink, it was one of his ideas I most appreciated, published in the November issue of Consumer Health Reports.
Even though Wansink is also clearly not someone saddled with weight issues (on his webpage, he describes himself as a person who “regularly enjoys both French food and french fries”), he does seem to know whereof he speaks. Maybe there’s actually something to all those thousands of hours of experiments, observing the actual eating habits of scores of people in a controlled study after all.
Here’s what Wansink advises:
“At a reception buffet, follow the ‘rule of two.’ You can have whatever you want, but you have to use the smallest plate and can put only two things on it at one time. Always have something to drink in your hand, because that’s one less hand to eat with.”
I find his approach the most refreshing—and most pragmatic—of those I read today. The part that appeals to me most? No self denial, no measuring or weighing, no keeping track of what goes down the gullet, no guilt. If you want to refill that little plate 74 times, go ahead. (But he’s betting you won’t). You can still eat everything you love, enjoy it, and, given the right set of china, avoid excess weight gain.
Rating: 5250 extra calories consumed with this advice (1.5 lb–still better than the average, right?).
(“Mum, you’re not planning to change the size of our bowls, are you? Because it already feels like we don’t get enough food.”)
Well, I’ve got it bad.
It’s exam time at the college, and there are something like 204 papers to be marked by the end of the week.
Yet, as I sit here at my desk, wind vaulting stray flakes of snow across my window, what do I do? Do I even glance in the direction of those essays? No. Do I take a few minutes to admire the vista of white that I haven’t seen in maybe 10 years? (Seems this new location is just above the no-snow line—two blocks, and suddenly, we’ve got real winter.) Uh-uh. Do I stop and meditate for even 5 minutes, as I’ve solemnly vowed to do? Absolutely not.
No, what I do is go immediately to the Holidailies website and check out the recent posts. And read, and read, and have a laugh, and nod in agreement, and wipe a tear from my eye, and then go to my own blog and start writing.
It’s Day Four of Holidailies, and I’m totally hooked. Since I still can’t seem to figure out how to get that cute little icon pasted to my page, I’ve decided to honour the event in my own unique way: every day of Holidailies (well, except today, I guess, since the jig is already up), I’m going to attempt to channel Alfred Hitchcock (except for the weight part, that is), and surreptitiously add a link to the Holidailies site, somewhere in my post. Think of it as the “Where’s Waldo?” of blogging.
On a completely unrelated note. . . .
I’ve been thinking more about the notion of intuitive eating, as that seems to be the approach I’ve adopted, more or less, in my quest for normal eating. The idea, as I interpret it, is to learn to let your body eat what it really wants, and then stop as soon as it no longer wants it.
I’ve recently read several posts that touch on this idea, most recently at Angry Fat Girlz. Granted, for Erin, the writer of the post, the notion of intuitive eating was a short digression in her larger discussion of how we should each find what works best for us as individuals. But she seems to decry the concept of intuitive eating as basically self-destructive when she recalls trying out different diet plans, including Weight Watchers:
“I eventually ended up half-embracing Intuitive Eating, but I could never really buy into the idea of unconditional forgiveness if I decided to eat a 5 gallon drum of peanut butter because my body said it wanted it.”
To discount intuitive eating because it feels impossible (or downright wrong) to forgive yourself because you FEEL like eating, say, a kilo (oops, sorry American friends, that’s about 2 pounds) of Chunky Monkey is, I think, a misguided conclusion. Because in reality, a true “intuitive” eater would never WANT to eat a kilo of ice cream in the first place, so there’d be nothing to forgive. No healthy, intuitive body out there craves that much rich, highly caloric, sugar-laden food, unless it’s recently been lost in the Tundra for a week or so, or has been traipsing through the Sahara a little too long without provisions. In other words, true intuitive eating brings us to a life of balance and health, and is naturally inclined toward what is good for us. And unfortunately, my body is completely devoid of that sort of intuition.
Take my Human Honey, for instance. (He loves it when I tell this story, even if it is drawn and tired by now, but it’s true.) He has never had a weight problem, and has always been a “normal” eater. In his childhood home, dessert was just another course, take it or leave it; and there was never a need to “hide” food because Daddy Will Get Mad if He Sees That We’ve Eaten Four Donuts in One Day. So when my HH eats, he eats what he feels like having, he thoroughly enjoys every mouthful, and he stops when he’s full. Period. He might be eating something he highly enjoys—loves, even—but when he’s full, that’s it; the switch has been pulled, and there will be no more food going into that mouth just then, no matter what is still on the plate.
“But it’s just ONE PEA,” I implore, “Just eat the damned thing!”
“No,” he calmly replies, “I am full, I don’t want to eat any more.” And he pushes the plate away.
Now, that’s intuitive eating. And the only way to achieve it, I think, is to allow your body to learn how to do it, even if it means making mistakes along the way. Even if it means eating a kilo of ice cream once in a while.
I’ve come to believe that for overeaters, their appetites are somehow out of whack, just like an overactive immune system when it reacts to an allergen. The IgE antibodies detect something otherwise harmless and freak out: “Attack! Attack!” just as my appetite alarm detects something yummy and bellows, “Eat! Eat!” Even if, in both cases, the extreme reaction is totally unwarranted.
That’s why I don’t believe in guilt when I overeat (don’t get me wrong here: just because I don’t believe in it, doesn’t necessarily mean I don’t experience it; but I’m working on that one). Why would you want to punish yourself twice—first, when you eat the “wrong” thing, and then again when you flagellate yourself for it?
I’ve read that, for those of us who are overweight, part of the reason may be an enhanced sense of taste. Those who taste foods more “fully” may crave them more, because they appreciate the flavors on a deeper level (which makes you feel kind of sad for those taste-deprived skinny people, doesn’t it?). And since flavor is dissolved and distributed more in the fat content of foods, we well-padded individuals tend to crave fatty foods. Sugar is just plain addictive, so combine the two (chocolate, anyone?), and you’ve got a recipe (sorry, couldn’t resist) for disaster. For me, I’m sure this is the case. I’ve been indulging in sweets since I was a child, and it makes sense to me that I must have developed this kind of hyperactive taste sensitivity.
On the other hand, I have noticed one very positive by-product of eating only NAG-friendly sweets. To begin with, all the flours are whole grain, and on top of that, my baking uses a lot of fruits and nuts as ingredients (you kind of have to when you eliminate eggs, dairy, refined sugars, and wheat). So I end up with many products that are high in fibre, and relatively low in fat (though that’s not the goal of the NAG diet, anyway—it’s just aiming for healthy fats, within a reasonable limit).
Because these goodies are brimming with whole, natural ingredients, they are also much more nutrient-dense than other sweets, so they tend to fill you up more. I really, honestly, cannot eat the entire pan of my alternative Chocolate Walnut Brownies (made with spelt flour, flax seeds, dates, cocoa, organic walnuts, etc.) because I simply get too full too fast. But a whole pan of Sara Lee brownies? Or Entenmanns’s? No problem.
So I’m hoping that, over time, eating a whole foods, healthy diet will result in my body learning, even if it takes a while, how to say “no” when it’s had enough. Without guilt, and without self-recrimination. After all, how long would it take to learn any other new skill at my age? I wouldn’t expect to be able to successfully build a doghouse, or play the stock market, or conduct a symphony, either, without a few years of experience at it, or a few mistakes along the way. And anyway, eating brownies is so much more fun, n’est-ce pas?
With no stove and no way of cooking anything, I’m grateful for the few baked goods left in the freezer. These are tea biscuits I created while experimenting with vegan and sugar-free biscuits and scones.
These are light and surprisingly tasty, considering that they have no butter, eggs, or refined sugar. They’re made with spelt flour and agave nectar, one of my favorite sweeteners. I use organic raisins and organic sunflower oil (just a touch). While I do use organic soy milk in these, I think they could just as easily be made with rice milk (and definitely with almond milk).
So, amid the boxes and newspaper, the cartons and garbage bags and two dogs miling about, I enjoyed a quick and easy breakfast of tea biscuits with organic peanut butter. ( “The peanut butter was particularly tasty, mum!”).
Basically a healthier variation on a PB sandwich–but much more yummy. ( “We have to agree. You can feed us tea biscuits any time! Now, what are all these boxes doing everywhere?”)
Have you ever woken up in the morning, still feeling full from the previous night? I have to admit it’s happened to me more than I care to remember. Of course, all that’s over for me now, right? Hmm. Not right.
I really thought yesterday was a near-perfect day in terms of meals and portion control. True, I wasn’t eating a “perfect” selection of foods according to my diet plan, but I did the best I could in terms of a restaurant meal, and my dinner was brilliant (as my friend A would say). What did I eat, you ask? I will swallow my pride (along with all those meals) and tell you.
Brunch: as previously mentioned, a Cora’s skillet. True, non-organic egg and likely oil in the veggies, but a good choice given the venue. The only better thing I could have done would be to order the oatmeal and sweeten it with stevia.
Snack: pink grapefruit; water; faux “iced coffee” (my fave: made with coffee substitute and vanilla rice milk).
Dinner: raw vegan sushi (made with raw almond pate, nori sheets, cucumber, radish, red pepper, avocado) and a ginger-lemon sweet potato salad (the recipe from Martha Stewart’s Everyday Food–which, as it turns out, is a great mag for some interesting vegetarian dishes). Forgive me the lack of photos, for now; I will post as soon as I can figure out how to do it.
So. . . note that I haven’t mentioned how much of anything I ate. This is because The Plan allows me to eat as much as I want, until I feel “comfortably full” (I just made up that last part–I assume that’s how much “normal” eaters eat). And last evening, I did just that–did not overeat, I thought. Proud of myself for the fabulous minerals in the nori, the protein in the almonds, the many veggies, the beta-carotene, fibre, and low GI in the sweet potatoes. Not to mention the ginger dressing, a great immune-booster and anti-inflammatory (my eyes said, “thanks”). And the Girls loved the salad, too (“Yum, Mum, you can make that any time!”).
I want to be able to eat what I want, without worrying too much about how much I’m packing away. Again, it’s my quest for normalcy: normal people (ie, those like my honey, without weight issues) eat what they like, when they like, and how much they like. Unlike me, they don’t overdo it on a regular basis.
So when I woke up this morning, still feeling a bit bloated from last night’s dinner, I wondered why. Am I unaccustomed to the additional fiber in those sweet potatoes? Did I actually eat much more than I realized? Is my digestion so screwed up that I’m unable to process even healthy food effectively? My answer is, “probably a bit of all three.”
Off to work today, where I’ll consume the remainder of the s.p. salad and perhaps an apple for lunch. Will see how that leaves me by the afternoon.
For a later post: trying to eat only when I’m really hungry.
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