|
|
Nope, not one. Not a single one. Not even the tiniest smidgen of one.
That’s right: for the first time ever in my adult life, I have not seen ONE of the movies nominated for Best Picture tomorrow night. (And YOU thought I was going to say “not one piece of chocolate! Ha ha on you!! Well, I haven’t had a single smidge of that, either.)
And that is all I will be saying about the Oscars.
I’ve decided that I must have been a cacao overlord in a previous lifetime, and now as part of my atonement, I’m seeing chocolate, chocolate everywhere–just when I’m trying most to avoid the stuff (for those of you who just joined us in medias res, I’m attempting a detox to clear my body of the influence of the Devil Chocolate–and so, the Week of Chocolate Asceticism).
As I mentioned before I began my week, I did whip up a few delectables before I started so that the blog wouldn’t be entirely bereft of the sweet stuff for the entire time. Then, last night, I even dreamt of some new chocolate-based dessert I could make!
And, of course, other bloggers are flinging chocolate this way and that, directly into my field of vision all this week: Eat Me, Delicious has just posted about a mouth-watering Chocolate Cookie Bark; The Good Eatah made a very rich, very creamy chocolate pudding; Vegan Noodle of Walking the Vegan Line made some wicked-looking truffles; Hannah made her own–homemade!–white chocolate bar; that rascal, Michael Clayton, made nothing; Cate from Sweetnicks made Chocolate Pots de Creme (how did she find the time??) and Ivonne from Cream Puffs in Venice has even devoted an entire month to the stuff (please, somebody save me!)
And so, I decided I couldn’t escape it. Although I am still determined not to let one mote, not one spec, not one shaving, not one MOLECULE of chocolate enter my mouth until I’ve given my system a decent break, I thought a little virtual indulgence wouldn’t do any harm.
So here I’ll share some photos of chocolate-based recipes I’ve played with over the past few weeks, as well as some goodies I had to bake for customers.
When I expressed some dismay that I wouldn’t be able to taste-test any of my catered goods, my friend’s very helpful teenaged daughter piped up: “Well, you could just take a bite, chew it, and then spit it out.” Remember that episode of Sex and the City, where Miranda has dinner with an ex-boyfriend? And they haven’t seen each other in years, and when they do, he’s lost a ton of weight? And then they go out to eat at a swanky NYC restaurant, and he orders steak? And then she catches him spitting a gnarly, saliva-soaked wad of chewed steak into his napkin? Yep, that’s the one. And so you see why I couldn’t take the daughter’s advice.
As it turns out, I’ve made most of these items several hundred times, so I didn’t have to break my WOCA and sample anything.
The first item was a Double Chocolate Mint Explosion Cookie, part of the treats table at a birthday party. These are fudgy on the inside, just slightly crispy on the outside–a definite winner with kids and adults alike.
Then I revisited a recent experiment with vegan chocolate-covered caramels (to which I must devote an entire post, anon):
After that, the chocolate rush subsided a bit, leaving just the chips in a Chocolate-Chip Blondie, baked for a school event (yes, indeedy, that is a kitchen towel behind the plate):
Next up, a Chocolate Satin Tart. These were a holiday item last year, which I baked for a vegan meal-delivery service here in Toronto to give to their customers (I hear they’re thinking of expanding to Calgary, where the Canadian Music Awards–called the Junos–are taking place this year). A shortbread-like crust is filled with chocolate ganache, then dusted with cocoa:
And I ended the virtual pig-out with a memory of a recent experiment, with sugar-free, gluten-free chocolate buttercream frosting:
After this heady daydream, I felt prepared to snack on my lovely carob pudding, or raw fig and cherry bars (recipe to follow eventually). And while it’s true that this No-Chocolate Land is a tough place to be (and it’s no country for old men, either, believe me), I do feel more energetic, a bit more in balance, and happy about my healthy eating ths week.
WOCA Update: Big, massive, seismic cravings today. And just when I thought they’d all passed! Serves me right for being so smug about it last post. But I shall persevere. . . I shall battle the demon with all my wits and all my inner resources. . . and I shall overcome. . . the scourge. . . that is Chocolate! Watch out; it’s possible there will be blood. (Oooh. Do you think I could maybe get away with just one little, tiny, eensy-weensy piece? Naw, didn’t think so.)
And to those of you who watch them, enjoy the Oscars tomorrow (and sorry about that Juno reference. It was either that or mention the mythological daughter of Saturn.)
[All of these recipes will 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.]
For the three of you who’ve been following this blog since the beginning, you may have noticed that my “diet” posts (ie, posts in which I talk about how my diet’s not working, posts in which I discuss how I’d like my diet to be working better, posts in which I examine how I might be able to make my diet work better, or, simply, posts in which I use the word “diet” a lot) have gone MIA. Wherefore art thou, O Ricki’s Diet, and why has she forsaken you?
Well, I must apologize. It’s not that I’ve forgotten about my diet (ha! AS IF), but more that I haven’t felt there was anything worth reporting or mulling over lately without sounding terribly repetitive. Given that the original intent of this blog was (at least, partly) to chronicle what I hoped would be a monumental (40-lb.) weight loss over the next year, and to share with you how I was going to go about doing that, I seem to have lost sight (but never taste, apparently, or I might have actually lost an ounce or two) of the goal.
Honestly, it’s not because the ”diet” aspect of the blog is any less important. It’s not because writing about food–desserts, especially–is any more fun (even though it is). It’s mostly that I haven’t been feeling very worthy of writing about dieting lately, given my recent eating patterns (which, suspiciously, resemble my pre-blog eating patterns). How can I write with any authority about losing weight when I’m not doing so? If you’ve looked at the progress tracker at all, you’ll see that the numbers have been going up, down, up, down, up, down, even more than the Paul McCartney-Heather Mills negotiations. I’ve been so taken lately with all the appealing, interesting recipes and food in the world of blogging that I’ve neglected taking care of me and my health.
Well, that’s all about to change. Now that Valentine’s Day is almost over (in our house, it’s taking place tomorrow), I’ve made a resolution. True, most people make their resolutions on January 1st; but I’ve always been a later bloomer.
Soooo. . . I’m going to declare the rest of February a “Chocolate-Free Zone.”
You see, since I was a wee tot (who am I kidding? I was never “wee”), chocolate has been the bane of my existence. Like an ex-boyfriend that you can’t quite let go of, like a Canadian winter, like the Oscars–I both love it and hate it.
The “love it” part is easy: it’s a perfect base for dessert (which, after all, is my area of specialization); it’s creamy, smooth, sweet, delectable; it’s a booster of serotonin levels; it’s a portable bite for that 3:00 PM sugar crash; and it’s my very, very favorite, “I-can-eat-it-any-time-even-for-breakfast,” food.
The “hate it” part is less black and white (or milk and white, depending on your predilection): it’s a source of sometimes uncontrollable cravings; it’s the cause of weight gain (though not of acne, as once believed); it’s a pathetically poor substitute for a hug, a phone call with your best friend, or therapy; and it’s usually not as good as you thought it was going to be (sort of like that ex-boyfriend, again).
For me, the only way to avoid the inner turmoil around chocolate is the extreme move of cutting it out entirely. Not forever (I couldn’t live with that), but for at least a week, until the urge passes. I’m embarking on a chocolate fast. No chocolate. No eating it, no baking with it, no buying it, no hiding it in the cupboard for a little nip when I’m feeling down.
Instead, I’m going to try out a week (or, if I can make it, two) of eating in a way that’s worked for me in the past: a NAG-friendly , semi-detox diet of fresh fruits, vegetables, whole grains, nuts, seeds; minimal whole-grain flours; and only stevia as an added sweetener. And NO CHOCOLATE. (“How about cocoa, Mum?”) No, not even cocoa. (“How about carob, Mum?”) Carob is acceptable. I’m also going to aim for over 50% raw foods each day.
For me, this move is part desperation and part a yearning to regain to the experience of vibrant energy and health I enjoyed during my year studying natural nutrition. At the time, one of my teachers there followed a 100% raw-foods (or living-foods, as it’s also called) diet. She also taught cooking classes, and I attended every one. I was amazed at how fantastic the food was–colorful, delicious, a veritable feast for the senses. I’m hoping to share some of her recipes, as well as others I’ve discovered over the years.
Hopefully, this new hard-line regime will help me ride out the chocolate-DTs, followed by a more moderate approach to eating (and, of course, chocolate)–and maybe even a little weight loss.
I do have a couple of desserts and one or two other dishes that I’ve recently prepared and will post as blog entries over the next two weeks, but for the most part, I’ll be sharing my healthier, detoxifying, health-conferring goodies with you. And I’m hoping that declaring it this way on the blog will help me to actually follow through!
So I hope you’ll bear with me after the recent influx of indulgent baked goods. Like some of you, I sometimes feel that a day without baking is a day devoid of some ineffable, necessary primal “something,” something that satisfies at the chromosomal level.
No doubt, the baking will return. Part of my goal when I started this blog was to lose 40 pounds before my next birthday, and unless I somehow get the chocolate habit under control, I know it won’t be a very happy one. (And speaking of birthdays, another HUGE impetus for the chocolate ban is the upcoming birthday bash for Gemini I’s husband–a massive party in the works–on March 1st. Two weeks away; need something nice, nothing fits, don’t want to have to buy something new. Think I could lose 10 pounds by then? Me, either.)
And so, chocolate, adieu. It’s only for a short while, but I’m hoping that absence, in this case, will not make the heart grow fonder. No doubt I will miss you; I may even pine for you. Still, one day, I hope to look at you with the same indifferent eye with which I gaze at Cream of Wheat, or paisley, or Josh Groban (sorry, Josh, not a big fan). After the week is over, let’s renegotiate our relationship in a more level-headed manner. In the meantime, I’ll attempt to forge ahead on my own, without you. But we’ll always have Paris (it is, after all, home of your finest specimens).
(“Oh, Mum, you’re so histrionic. Really, get a grip. Who cares about chocolate? It’s not a big deal. But, um, you’re not thinking of changing your mind about carob now too, are you? Because, you know, we’re allowed to eat carob, and we really love that carob-date thing you make. So we can keep the carob, can’t we, Mum? Can’t we? Mum???”)
“The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug.” –Mark Twain
I recently started reading the highly acclaimed Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. Almost immediately, I found myself laughing out loud as I read page 2, and was hooked.
Gilbert’s memoir recounts her travels through Italy (eat), India (pray) and Indonesia (love) following the chaotic dissolution of her marriage. Now that I’ve reached the penultimate chapter of the ”Eat” section, I’ll be sorry to see all those robust and flamboyant foods disappear, slick with garlic and olive oil. But I am also looking forward to delving into the next section and the solemn world of spirituality as it’s presented by this enviable wordsmith.
In one of the Italy-based chapters, Gilbert discusses the theory of a friend of hers, who asserts that each city, based on its communal “personality,” has a single word that epitomizes the very core of that city. In the case of New York, for instance, it’s “ACHIEVE.” (Yes, Gilbert writes these words in all-caps). For Rome, says her friend, it’s “SEX.” (He explains, “If you could read people’s thoughts as they were passing you on the streets. . . you would discover that most of them are thinking the same thought.”) Dang, those randy Romans!
If I had to propose a word for Toronto, with its most-ethnically-diverse-population-on-the-planet claim to fame, it would have to be ”ACCOMMODATE” (not to be confused with the defining word for the country as a whole, which is “POLITE.”).
This little word game got me thinking. What would my own personal word be? My first thought was, Well, that’s easy. It’s ”FOOD.” No, I soon realized, that’s The Girls’ word. (“And what’s wrong with that, Mum? No, seriously. What’s wrong with it??“)
Upon further reflection, I decided my word was closer to “SEEK.”
In truth, I suppose these two concepts, eating and seeking, coexist in my life, and even work in tandem. In both my work and my play, I’m frequently surrounded by food and on the lookout for that classic, “perfect” recipe. At the same time, I’m a perennial seeker (the better way, knowledge, inner peace, what that comment really meant, self-improvement, weight loss, le mot juste)–basically, I am made restless by the status quo, inevitably searching out something–sometimes, anything–else.
In my quest for that elusive something, however, I have on occasion lost track of the present and all the wonders that exist with me now. Perhaps my new word should be “APPRECIATE,” as I remind myself to take stock of what is going right, right now. Steady income? Check. Great guy? Check. Dear, long-term friendships? Check. Two dogs I am crazy for? Double Check. Beautiful winter weather for 5 months? Hmm. And I was going along so well there, for a moment.
On another note, this blog has been indispensible in my quest for what’s good, and what’s next. I’ve read about all kinds of approaches to eating, weight loss, and life in others’ blogs and found humor, new perspectives, and inspiration there. As I continue to seek out the best of healthy and, at the same time, tasty, recipes, I simultaneously discover what works for me, which foods appeal and which allow me to maintain a healthy weight and lifestyle. It’s work, but it works, too.
With luck, my word will continue to evolve over time. Perhaps “FOOD” and “SEEK” will commingle, or perhaps the constant striving toward some elusive “better” will eventually be eclipsed by another, more appropriate, word. I’d happily accept “SATISFACTION” or “GRATITUDE” as my life’s new keyword.
Until then, the search continues. But for now, it’s on to the next chapter.
What would your word be?
This morning, as I slipped out of the shower and dashed toward my towel, I was arrested by the flashing image of some alien being–large, bulbous torso with spindly appendages, squishy and amorphous, with a dimpled, pasty-grey hide–as my gaze flitted briefly across the mirrored door of the medicine cabinet. Extraterrestrial close encounters in my bathroom? Ultra-magnified image of a cotton ball and stray eyelashes? Cate Blanchett in her newest role, as Truman Capote?
Uh, no, to all of the above, sad to say. With a start, I realized that mysterious reflection was me.
My HH finally put up the medicine cabinet a few days ago, so I wasn’t yet used to having a mirror in just that location, and forgot to avert my eyes as my naked self passed by. Now, with two mirrors basically facing each other in the bathroom, just as they tend to do in women’s dressing rooms, I am treated to the full 3-D, 360 degrees, visual equivalent of surround-sound, image of myself every time I exit from the shower. Bummer. BIG bummer, if you get my drift.
Why is it I’ve come to avoid looking at myself in the mirror, you may wonder? As a child, I never really thought about my looks very much. These days, I can barely stand to gaze at my own reflection, and most especially not naked. For many women, this is the last frontier of self-esteem: being able to take in our own naked reflections without censure, or nausea.
I know that my body is not where I’d like it to be, and what’s worse, I know it has been in a much better place in the past. As much as I consciously tout–and believe in–self-acceptance and self-love, it never occurred to me that I’m sabotaging myself by avoiding my mirror image just because I don’t like what I see. What I end up doing each time I refuse to look is nurture that kernel of low self-esteem.
As it happens, The CFO is coming to visit this weekend (a deferred trip, after the last one was cancelled due to a snow storm). Like my mother, my older sister, and me, The CFO has struggled with her weight most of her adult life. And when I think of her and how I feel about her, it would seem ludicrous to me to reject her based on weight gain, of course. So, if I’m infinitely capable of lavishing unconditional love on my friends and family regarless of physical appearance, it begs the question: why can’t I do so with myself as well?
I believe in self-acceptance, and I’ve written about this before. And I’m repeatedly inspired by other bloggers who’ve managed to incorporate self-love into their diet routines. But I tend to separate acceptance from approval in my assessment, sort of like the mother of a toddler who tells her naughty child, “I still love YOU, but I am very angry at what you did.” And let me tell you, what my fat cells are doing these days really sucks.
But I’m working on it. There’s a great scene in the otherwise nondescript movie, Safe, one of Julianne Moore’s early films (1995). Suffering from multiple allergies to basically everything (what was once called “20th Century Disease“), Moore’s character withdraws from the “real” world to an alternative-medicine retreat where she can be sheltered from the onslaught of all civilization’s many toxins and environmental villains. Part of her cure involves practising self-love; her therapists believe that the root of her problems stems from her inability to really love herself, unconditionally.
The movie ends with a tone that is both somewhat mocking (of all things alternative) and also portentous: Moore stands facing herself in the mirror and repeatedly chokes on the words, “I love you,” as she stares into the reflection of her own eyes. But watching the scene, you just know that her salvation lies in that little phrase, in truly believing it.
I think this coming weekend is the perfect place to embark on a new approach to achieving such a salvation: I’m going to throw a superabundance of affection toward the CFO over the next two days, and attempt to do the same with myself, especially next time I pass by the mirror. There may not be any skinny dipping in my foreseeable future, but perhaps I’ll eventually step out of the shower without shielding my eyes.
Have a great weekend, all.
Snacks: should we or shouldn’t we? The jury seems to be out on that one. Just this morning, as I plodded along on my trusty treadmill, I happened upon a brief TV interview with ND Penny Kendall-Reed hawking discussing her new book, The No-Crave Diet. One of the supposed myths that she busted was the idea that we should basically snack all day long ( what’s been referred to as “grazing” in recent years), and eat 4-6 smaller meals per day.
No, no, no, said Ms. Kendall-Reed, that theory has been thrown out the window! Recent science indicates that leptin, the fat-controlling hormone in our bodies, only begins to really work its magic about 5 hours after we’ve last eaten (and so, works best overnight). If we keep shoving food into our mouths every two to three hours, we undermine the function of leptin. So to really lose weight, she advised, don’t snack at all. Stick with 3 meals–that’s it.
Well, I’m not sure I could ever give up snacks entirely, but if I do snack, I’d prefer it to be something that isn’t going to cause my fat cells to multiply or my arteries to stiffen up. What better choice than trail mix? It’s the perfect snack for us North Americans: quick, portable, ostensibly healthy, it provides us with the twin hits of two favorite tastes, sweet and salty.
But don’t kid yourself that you’re eating a health food if you consume store-bought varieties. Often, these are roasted in unhealthy oils (the nuts), coated in unhealthy oils (the dried fruits) or sprinkled with flour (wheat can be nasty for some) or sugar (which is nasty for everyone). They may also contain additives, coloring, artificial flavorings, preservatives, or hydrogenated oils. By far, the best way to acquire trail mix is to make your own. And since it’s so easy to throw together, why not?
 I thought it might be useful to run through the basic components and offer what would or wouldn’t work for a healthy trail mix. I’ll also include our own preferred mixture here at the DDD residence (“We particulary enjoy those cashews, Mum. But thanks for not giving us those raisins!“).
What Should I Include in a Basic Trail Mix?
The generic recipe is very simple: use any combination of dried fruits, nuts, seeds, and cereals that you like.
Just keep in mind one essential rule: minimize or eliminate processing. In other words, for the optimal trail mix, it’s preferable to gather all your ingredients in their raw form, measure according to healthy percentages of protein and carbs (since the original purpose of trail mix was to provide a boost of energy while hiking—a high-exertion activity—it should contain a fair amount of protein and carbs for energy, or a high proportion of nuts and seeds), then dehydrate or cook the ingredients, as you wish.
My own basic trail mix recipe includes:
- approximately 75% nuts and seeds (I use almonds, walnuts, cashews, pecans, peanuts, and Brazil nuts; pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, and sesame seeds)
- about 20% dried fruits (I use unsweetened dried cherries, dried cranberries, raisins, chopped dates and chopped figs)
- and about 5% grains or cereals, if you wish (I tend not to worry about the cereal part).
The following guidelines may help you decide which ingredients to include in your own mix.
NUTS AND SEEDS:
In general, nuts are a wonderful and very nutritious food. They contain heart-healthy Omega 6 and Omega 3 fats, monounsaturated fats, antioxidant vitamin E, and they are also generally high in protein. Nuts arrive in their own natural packaging—their shells—which will help preserve and protect them as well until ready to use.
Because it’s more difficult to buy nuts with the shells still on and then shell them yourself before blending into a trail mix (that alone would provide enough exercise to earn the right to eat them all!), the second best choice is raw, natural nuts from a health food store.
Organic nuts, of course, would be preferable, but these are often quite expensive.
Choose unroasted, unsalted, raw, natural nuts for your mix. If you wish, you can roast them yourself, by laying them out on a rimmed cookie sheet and baking in a 350 F (180C) oven for about 10-15 minutes, until just starting to turn golden. If you do choose to add salt, use a natural sea salt with a full complement of minerals. Cool completely before adding to your mix.
Keep in mind that the oils in nuts and seeds are volatile; this means they are prone to rancidity if exposed to air, heat, or oxygen (which is why you don’t want to buy those pre-roasted ones). In order to preserve the integrity of the oils in your nuts and seeds, refrigerate (or freeze) raw nuts/seeds until you use them. This way, you’ll obtain the highest health benefits from your healthy snack.
Best choices:
- Almonds. These are always at the top of my list, since they offer a high protein content, heart-healthy monounsaturated fats and vitamin E, and a lower fat content than most other nuts. They are also the highest nut for calcium.
- Coconut. Previously maligned because of its high saturated fat content, coconut has recently been promoted by some alternative health professionals as a heart-healthy food that can also help preserve thyroid functioning. If you can find high quality organic coconut, this can be a great addition to your trail mix.
- Pumpkin Seeds. Known to be high in zinc, pumpkin seeds can help boost immunity and have been shown to help prevent prostate problems. They’re also high in iron and other minerals. The phytosterols (plant sterols) in pumpkin seeds have also been shown to help reduce cholesterol.
- Sesame Seeds. These tiny gems are a great source of calcium and the same type of phytosterols as in pumpkin seeds. Remember that they need to be chewed to crack the outer hull, as this exposes the healthy oils within and renders the seeds digestible by our digestive tract (otherwise, sesame seeds—like flax seeds—are not digested and pass whole through our systems. While they offer fibre in this manner, they won’t offer nutrients this way).
- Walnuts. Filled with healthy Omega 3 oils, walnuts are good for brain function (and they look like little brains, don’t they?) and heart health. Slightly higher in fat (about 65%), they probably should be eaten in moderation.
Avoid:
- Conventional (non-organic) peanuts. Even if you’re not allergic, peanuts can harbor aflatoxins, a highly toxic mold (supposedly more toxic than DDT!). Organic peanuts tend to be less problematic in this area.
- Commercially prepared soy nuts. In general, though soybeans offer great protein and are also important for women in pre- and menopausal years, commercial varieties are often roasted in poor-quality oils, high in added fat, and, unless organic, genetically modified. Check preparation and ingredients carefully if buying soy nuts.
["Yum! Thanks for those cashews, Dad!"]
FRUITS:
Fruits are not only a high-fibre, no-fat snack; they’re also an excellent source of vitamins, some minerals (especially dates, raisins, and figs), and they add the chewiness and sweetness that so many of us crave in a trail mix.
Best Choices:
- Apricots: These fruits offer a great source of vitamin A. The organic variety is naturally darker in color than conventional apricots, and much sweeter! If you’ve never tried organic dried apricots, I highly recommend them.
- Blueberries/Cranberries: both these berries have been shown to help prevent urinary tract infections by inhibiting bacteria from clinging to the urinary tract. They’re also high in vitamins and antioxidants.
- Cherries: tart, organic dried cherries provide pucker-power in a trail mix and offer vitamins A and C, as well as a source of calcium.
- Goji Berries: A relatively new addition to the realm of dried fruit, Goji berries are delicious (not quite as sweet as raisins and a bit chewier), with an impressive nutritional profile including high levels of vitamin C (higher by weight than oranges), several vitamins and minerals, and an array of amino acids. I previously wrote about goji berries (among other things) in this post.
- Raisins: a perennial favorite, raisins are a good source of iron and also contain other minerals and vitamin B. Don’t forget, however, that raisins can be poisonous to dogs! (“We appreciate that, Mum.”)
- Figs: dried figs are known to be anti-parasitic and help keep the intestines in good shape. They also provide a great fruit source of calcium as well as potassium, iron, copper, manganese, and phosphorous, not to mention good fibre content! I’ve grown very fond of figs (it’s just platonic, silly) and will post some new recipes with them in the next week or so as well.
Avoid:
-
non-organic dried fruits, as they can be coated in wheat flour (to prevent sticking together), sugar and/or unhealthy oils (same reason as flour), and often contain sulfites (a preserving agent). For people concerned with maintaining the enzymes present in raw fruits, look for dried fruits that have been dehydrated at low temperatures (usually below 118 degrees F).
CEREALS (Optional):
Best Choices:
-
plain puffed cereals, such as brown rice (I use Erehwhon unsalted) or organic oat circles. Many gluten-free grains, such as quinoa or millet, are now also available puffed as well.
- Avoid: many commercial cereals contain sugar, hydrogenated oils, flavors, and so on. Check labels to ensure healthy ingredients and no extra sweetener.
How Do I Store My Trail Mix and How Long Should I Keep It?
For maximum longevity, store your trail mix in sealed, opaque containers in the refrigerator and take out only as much as you’ll need at a time. This will keep both the nuts and seeds fresh as long as possible, usually about a month (though it likely won’t last that long). However, if you detect even the slightest trace of rancidity in the taste of your nuts or seeds, it’s always better to discard the mix.
Trail mix is a real staple in our house, as my HH adores nuts of all kinds (Including me. You DID see that one coming, didn’t you??). And making your own, besides being fun, provides a comforting sense that your snacks can provide at least some of the essential nutrients in your day. And what if Ms. Kendall-Reid is right, and we should forgo our daily snacks? Well, just toss that trail mix into a big bowl of organic baby greens, and you’ve got an instant meal (and no one’s prohibiting that just yet!).
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.
Well, I hope everyone out there had a Happy New Year. Ours would have been very pleasant and laid back–after all, we were guests at my friend’s 8000 square foot “cottage” (you read that right–were we lucky, or what??), we were in a pastoral wonderland of snow, lake, birch trees, rare birds and other wildlife prancing past the picture windows between the stone and wood walls, and we spent the time with two of my very favorite people in the world, Gemini I and Gemini II, as well as their families. Could it get any better?
In our pre-Chaser days, we used to go up there fairly frequently, and have spent many a lovely Thanksgiving or Christmas with the Gemini I family. This time, however, we discovered a tiny, heretofore unseen quirk in our (post-Chaser) Elsie Girl, something we’d never witnessed before: she has a newfound propensity to lunge at and–if permitted–eat any of the other dogs up there (Chaser excluded). What the–??
My beloved fur baby, the one I’ve adored since we got her from the pound back in 2002, the one who is consistently docile and sweet and gentle? The one I refer to variously as Sweet Face, Sweet Girl, Honey Girl, My Darling Girl, My Little Love, and innumerable other nausea-inducing, endearing sobriquets? The one who timorously permits Chaser to nibble endlessly on her ears like popcorn at the movies, who hangs her head in submission when I see her even walking toward the open garbage can, who lies at my feet silently here at the computer and reminds me, with a barely perceptible, feathery whisper of a touch with her nose, that it’s dinnertime?
Yes, that one. What on earth has gotten into her?
As a result of this sudden possession by the Dog Satan, we spent most of the time hovering over Elsie to ensure that she didn’t consume Gemini I’s new cat, or bundling up in our snow suits to accompany Elsie on the leash to do her “business” outside. How I wish Cesar Millan lived in Canada. Sniff.
I also realized, as soon as we were on the road and past the point where it would be feasible to turn back, that I’d forgotten my camera up north. Granted, it’s a cheap little unit (I must be the only blogger on the face of the planet who takes pictures with a camera she got for free using Air Miles), and also I have no photographic ability, but I am inordinately fond of the thing and it feels like traipsing around the house naked to post without photos of any kind.
The final rather unpleasant discovery to greet me after the weekend (well, actually, the last two weeks) is that it appears I have gained a couple of pounds (really? pigging out on baked goods and chocolate can do that to you?). As a result of all these events, I’ve been feeling pretty disheartened since we got back. Boo hoo.
Well, as Cesar himself would say, it’s the owner, not the dog, that needs training whenever there’s a problem. Don’t I know it: time to listen to The Great Emperor of Dog Training and get my ass in gear, literally and figuratively. Also, a perfect opportunity for some goal setting (notice I didn’t say, “resolutions”).
Every year around this time–sometimes right on the first of the year, sometimes not until April–I sit down and write out a “Five-Year Plan,” a set of goals to reach within 5 years, 2 years, one year, and the next six months. This is something I learned about from the original study at Harvard (I didn’t participate, just read about it) that confirmed how those people who actually write down their goals are more inclined to someday achieve them. Some years it works better, some years worse, but it always seems to help keep me on track and steer me toward my goals, even when I immediately put the list back in its desk drawer and promptly forget about it till the next year.
I’m also always amazed at the goals that eventually come to fruition even when I’ve literally forgotten about them in the interim. To wit, a couple of years ago one of the goals I wrote was “Work with a business coach for free.” Through a series of serendipitous events, I ended up with three full months of terrific coaching. Similarly, “guest appearance on TV morning show.” Or, “Adopt second dog.” At the time I wrote that, my HH’s response was a definite “no.” As the months rolled by, for some reason, he ultimately changed his mind, and eventually he succumbed. Now, he’s Chaser’s greatest fan, and the two of them are almost inseparable.(“Thanks for changing your mind, Dad! You’re so much fun to wrestle with. . .but wait a sec, Mum, if you’re not also my greatest fan, then whose fan are you–?“).
So, to that end, I am going to list my goals. I will say straight up that this isn’t the complete list, as there are still some things that I’ll keep private (goals related to relationship, family, etc.), but given the name of the blog, I think I should at least include all the food-related and health-related ones here.
Of course, everyone and their cousin is making resolutions about now, and to that end, there was a humorous send up of these kinds of lists in the Arts and Life section of the National Post today. Near the top of the list was this goal:
“Shed those unwanted pounds, or, if that’s too hard, spend some quality time with those pounds at a Wendy’s and make them feel wanted again.”
In that same spirit, I shall not berate myself for those “unwanted” two pounds, or the fairly unstable wagon off of which I’ve fallen. Instead, I’m going to set about outlining some goals for the next while.
And So:
Five Years Hence:
-
Post and Beam. My lifelong (okay, adult-long) dream is to own a post and beam, slightly north of the city, with my two dogs and HH (and in it, I’ll still be writing this blog, of course).
- maintain normal, healthy weight and eating habits (continued since year one), following the plan I outlined, below, in the 6-month goal.
- go swimming on a regular basis (something I used to love as a kid/teenager, and have been too embarrassed to do in public since the weight gain).
- Have meditation as a daily part of my life, yoga (or other easy-on-the-joints, meditative exercise) as a weekly part of my life.
- continue to have an easy, healthy relationship with dessert, able to enjoy with moderation without being thrown into binge mode, as outlined below in the one-year goal.
- have a healthy, effective method in place for dealing with stress (hey, may as well reach high once I’m setting goals, right?).
Two Years Hence:
-
maintain normal, healthy lifestyle and eating habits since year one (as outlined below, in the 6 month section).
-
maintain a healthy, normal relationship to dessert, as outlined below in the one year goal.
-
have meditation as a daily part of my life, yoga or similar type of exercise as weekly.
-
go swimming again–take lessons if necessary.
-
have healthy, effective method for dealing with stress in place and almost perfected.
One Year Hence:
-
reach normal, healthy weight (about 50 pounds from now)
-
achieve a sense of control around desserts–that is, the ability to eat them within reason, without breaking into a binge because of one chocolate bar, or brownie, or piece of cake
-
continue to create healthy, delicious desserts for fun and profit
-
-
complete an intro to yoga course, and continue throughout the year.
-
improve work on weights, to previous levels, working with trainer if necessary.
-
continue with regular exercise at least 6 days a week, as outlined below.
Six Months Hence:
I think these are realistic goals, especially since I know I’ve mastered some of them in the past. I’m also giving myself a fairly lengthy period to establish new habits (I’ve read that it takes about 6 weeks of repetition to establish a new habit, but have never found that to be true for me; even after 2 years of eating no sweeteners whatsoever, it didn’t take long to return to old habits once I allowed sugar back into my life).
Now, of course there are many other goals on the piece of paper written out here at home, such as those related to my writing career or travelling (basically, I’d like to do some). But for now, if I can focus on the physical health and psychological wellness, I think I’d have a great head start toward everything else.
(“You go for it, Mum! My goal this year is to earn more treats. Oh, and I suppose not to attempt ripping apart other dogs would be good, too.’)
Yesterday, when I finally made it back to the workout club after my recent hiatus (Nice to see you again, Elderly Gentleman Who Always Wears Black Knee Socks! Good day, Sixty-Something Woman with the Spiky Hair! How ya doin’, Teenaged Girl with the Chirpy Giggle!), I was astonished to find that I had actually lost more weight. (Oh, and also that an earlier blog entry appeared in the Best of Holidailies! Awesome!!).
I got to thinking about what, this particular time round, has made the difference that’s allowed me to lose weight. Did I suddenly acquire some new form of willpower?
Well, “willpower” isn’t exactly the right word, I think. Because what I’m experiencing just doesn’t seem to take that much effort on my part. Oh, and wait a sec, I did eat the majority of a 150 gram white chocolate bar the other day–so I’m not consciously depriving myself, either. In fact, I seem to be able to basically eat whatever I want, whenever I want—even if it involves ingesting copious amounts of chocolate—without the same repercussions as when I last did more or less the same thing, about a year ago (when I capped off my weight gain with yet another 10 pounds, pushing me past my previous all-time record).
Something struck me as odd about this latest turn of events. Decades ago–before there was even a term to describe it–I used to suffer from debilitating anxiety attacks. Lacking confidence, living alone in a strange city without any close friends or family, I began to find myself at 3:00 AM fretting about the sudden pains in my chest or the alarming pace of my racing heartbeat. After hours of internal battles and too scared to sleep, I’d finally wear myself out and fall into an exhausted slumber for a couple of hours before daybreak.
After fielding endless frantic queries about the myriad symptoms of heart attacks and several other fatal illnesses over the course of a year, one day The Nurse finally said to me, “Look, I just don’t get it. Instead of staying up all night stressing about whether or not you’re having a heart attack, why don’t you just go to the emergency room as soon as it starts? You’ll get examined, they’ll tell you there’s nothing wrong with you, and then you can go back home and go to sleep.” And of course she was right; the few times I did go, the doctor’s reassurance caused the the symptoms to subside, and I was able to relax and go home to bed.
It had never before occurred to me to just “give in to it.” I’d always felt that I was required to somehow vanquish the fear, that if I succumbed and went to the emerg, it would mean that I was intrinsically weak willed and would, therefore, never overcome those panic attacks.
Well, after about 3 or 4 weeks of acknowledging those symptoms and having them deemed harmless, those panic attacks naturally began to diminish. To this day, I don’t really know why; it was something about giving up the fight, acknowledging them as the current reality–however negative–instead of trying, for the entire course of an excruciating night of pain and hyperventilating, to deny their existence. They just went away.
As I’ve mentioned before, the last time I lost a fair amount of weight (also rather effortlessly) was about 4 years ago, as a student at my much beloved nutrition school. About a year after that, the weight began to sneak back up. Since then, I’ve been struggling to lose it again, failing miserably time after time. Except now, since October. Why?
Perhaps the same principle applies to binge eating as to those anxiety attacks. Accepting the bingeing as reality (which is NOT the same as condoning it or embracing it as a welcome practise) without trying to deny, suppress, erase or judge it–may just be the ticket to eradicating it. At that point, the binges may just decide to go away of their own accord.
I don’t know whether this is the case in my situation, but I am most thankful for the current trend. It may simply be that trying too hard to prevent a particular activity–protesting too much–may, ironically, exaggerate the activity even more. I’d love to know how others feel about this one.
(“Well, Mum, we think it’s a great strategy. We just eat whatever we want, too, though we never do get quite as much food as we’d like.”
It’s simple, really:
- Decide to move house four months in advance; ask honey to begin packing that day. Draw up a list of all the tasks that need to be completed, and review list with sweetie so you can each pick key tasks and assign due dates. Smile with self-satisfaction when the list is done.
- Ask honey to begin packing three months in advance. Remind honey that wooden moldings need to be repaired, 60-plus boxes in basement need to be reviewed and re-sealed (since last move, 6 years ago), garage needs to be emptied and cleaned, yard needs to be tidied up and mowed, and personal items all still need to be packed.
- Ask honey to begin packing two months in advance. Stress the importance of sticking to our list, packing our least-needed items, doing the minor repairs to the house.
- Ask honey to begin packing one month in advance. Tersely comment that the list seems to have been ignored, none of the growing pile of packing has been accomplished by him, moving day looms, new packing boxes are required, and all of the repairs to the house still need to be undertaken.
- Two weeks in advance, frantically implore honey to begin packing. Anxiously remind him that the movers are coming in fourteen days, the kitchen and bedroom and TV room and most of the office have not been packed, and the minor repairs to the house still need to be completed.
- Three days in advance, scream like a deranged harpy at honey that we need to begin packing NOW. Run like a maniac from room to room, haphazardly tossing miscellaneous and sundry items into packing boxes, dash around the house stuffing everything and anything into boxes, bags, cartons, plastic bins, etc. Lift and push aside and disassemble and wrap and fold and untie and unhook and unscrew and unplug and layer and tape and cram and stack more items and boxes and bins than you ever thought possible in 72 hours.
- Two days in advance, glance about you and realize that you are never going to finish it all before the movers arrive. Redouble your efforts to lift and push aside and disassemble. . . . after midnight, fall into bed exhausted.
- One day in advance, expend most of your energy shrieking at honey that this is all his fault, if only he’d listened to you and been organized and followed the list, you’d be ready to move now, instead of throwing things with abandon into bags, stuffing things with neither rhyme nor reasons into boxes, blindly shoving items into bins and cartons, while he works frantically on the minor repairs to the house.
- Moving day, spend the wee hours still futilely attempting to pack items while waiting for the movers to arrive. Continue as they undertake the monumental task of displacing and replacing your entire life’s meaning as it’s packed into various containers, ignoring the few directives written on the cardboard with black magic marker. Watch, helplessly, as they stack all of the 60-plus boxes that used to contain untouched books, kitchen gadgets, grandmother’s possessions and other unwanted items in the same haphazard pile (four deep and five high) of boxes that contain all of your current, essential, just-packed possessions.
- On moving day, run back and forth between old and new residences, attempting to direct the movers so they don’t wreck your beloved antique sewing machine, lifting and moving boxes they’ve already stacked because you notice they belong upstairs in the office instead of way down in the basement, carrying oddly shaped and as-yet unpacked items (such as your honey’s grandfather’s massive umbrella, your mother’s silver 3-tier cake serving platter, your dogs’ four pillows [pre-LL Bean], your barber’s mirror for the wall in the bathroom, your sneakers, your jar of sauerkraut and other fridge-related items, and more) into the house as you vainly attempt to find a place for them that won’t have to be changed within the next few hours.
- On moving day, help the movers with the heavier and more awkward items, such as the treadmill, the plants, the box of spices, the lawn chairs, the chest freezer, the pail of agave nectar, the box of shoe boxes, or the brooms and mops. Almost drop several boxes, trip several times, bang into walls and bookcases and stair bannisters over and over, so that eventually (and by the time you notice, three days later), your arms and legs are awash in bruises, vaguely resembling a Jackson Pollock painting.
- At 10:15 on moving day, begin to search desperately for at least one of the boxes you’d marked “Open First.” When this appears futile, use your last few ounces of energy to begin slitting open sealed boxes, searching desperately for anything you could use at this late date to cover your bed so you can fall into it in a crumpled heap.
- At 10:30 PM, unable to find anything to put on your bed, drive in a catatonic state to the local Wal-Mart, arriving just as they’re about to close, to purchase new sheets. Pick any old thing just to get something. Arrive home and somehow manage to place your new, shades-of-vomited-salmon sheets on the bed.
- Brush your teeth with your index finger in the only bathroom with no windows (since there are no blinds or curtains in any of the rooms), then feel your way in the dark (since you’re naked–you couldn’t find any boxes of clothes, either) to the bed and sleep like a dead person for 6 hours until your excited dogs poke their wet, cold noses into your cheek to wake you.
- Spend every waking moment since then unpacking, replacing, stocking, shelving, unwrapping, folding, cleaning, organizing, assembling, purchasing, setting up, refilling, and howling like a banshee at your honey that if only you had listened to me and gotten started early and been organized and done what I said we would not be in this horrible mess now and I could find my *&#@$!! underwear and we’d have our house set up and we’d be able to start our life instead of having to wade through a chaotic mass of cardboard and paper and plastic and twine and cloth and wool and dog hair and food and every other single thing we own in a jumbled mass that’s going to take weeks just to go through, let alone set up properly and you make me crazy and I want to break something and I am so stressed that I’m eating pounds of chocolate over the past few days and I have no idea how I’m going to get through this ordeal without cracking up.
- A couple of days after moving, weigh yourself and nearly faint to see that you have not gained an ounce, not a gram, not a wee line on the scale, even though you’ve been gorging on chocolate at every possible opportunity (between unpacking, organizing, assembling, etc.).
- Write about it all in your blog. Heave a heavy sigh. It’s gone. It’s out. It’s over.
- Get back to the task at hand: 462 boxes that need to be unpacked, methodically, one box at a time.
(“Mum? Are you okay, Mum? . . . . . um. . . . will we still be able to go on our walk today?”)
|
|
