I Am What I Chew

canned dessert or medical condition?

Although I’m more open to new foods than I used to be (hello, rutabagas!) there are some things I refuse to put in my mouth.

Leave it to those silly British, who call Fries “chips” and chips “crisps.”

Instead of calling a sponge pudding with raisins a “sponge pudding with raisins” they dubbed it “spotted dick.” This, of course, is hilarious to us Americans, who will giggle uncontrollably at the mention of any anatomical reference.

Not only does it have a terrible name, but it’s made with shredded suet.

That’s right, beef fat.

I’ll pass.

what does this look like to you?

I’m always looking for ways to make myself love unfamiliar vegetables.  I don’t like to say “no” until I’ve tried at least different ways of fixing them.

So, I dug out a recipe that combined two vegetables on my list of Least Palatable Foods: bok choy and beets.

I followed the instructions to roast the beets in a foil packet in the oven with some olive oil and garlic.  When I removed the packet 40 minutes later, not only were the beets still hard, but the packet broke open and leaked all over the counter.

The recipe said to cook them and rub off the skins with a paper towel.  I stood there with beet blood all over my fingers, pot holders and countertops and thought, “Uh, no.”

I ended up sautéing the bok choy in olive oil with garlic and sea salt.  Put some feta cheese on top. Yummy.

The beets went in the garbage.  I don’t care how good they are for me – any veggie that makes my kitchen look like a murder scene is on the list called “Not Worth It.”

Lose that ugly fat!

We’ve all fallen for those ads that shout RAPID WEIGHT LOSS WITHOUT HUNGER!  Even though we know intellectually that the disclaimer “results not typical” means that they are lying, we want to believe the lie.

An article in SmartMoney talks about the lies that the diet business, a gazillion-dollar industry, perpetuates on us hopeful losers.

Here it is: 10 Things the weight-Loss Industry Won’t Say

Only a mother could love this mean little persimmon-eater

This is a story about preconceptions.  When I lived in Indiana, we had a persimmon tree.  Every fall, the tree would produce copious amounts of small orange fruit that the local opossums loved.  (See mug shot at right).  I figured if an ugly, rat-tailed critter like the ‘possum loved persimmons, they were only fit for ugly, rat-tailed critters.

I put them on my “do not send” list when I signed up for “Farm Fresh to You,” a to-your-door organic produce service (more on this wonderment later).

Alas, my request was too late and my shipment arrived with half a dozen persimmons.

Now, my vow is to try any fruit or vegetable put in front of me, but I have to say I was afraid of that ‘possum fruit.  The persimmons of my youth were small, bitter, and hard unfit for human consumption unless laced with 3 pounds of sugar and cooked down to a jelly-like substance.

I found a recipe that used three kinds of fruit, courtesy of my organic farmer friends, and here’s what it looked like.

Winter Fruit Salad

The persimmons, which are hiding under the fuji apples and the satsuma mandarins, are as big as tomatoes and as sweet as peaches.

What a nice surprise.  I may even try brussels sprouts.

Nah.

where's the bacon? In my tummy-tum-tum.

Sometimes a girl has to have some meat.  Preferably, the highly processed kind that’s mostly fat and is laden with nitrates. Or nitrites.  Or whatever.

Such a day was today, and I took myself to the Omelet House, which was deserted at 10 am except for people speaking Albanian and Japanese.  I hunkered down with my breakfast while reading Hugh MacLeod’s “Ignore Everyone” and scarfed down the bacon, the English muffin, a couple forkfuls of hashbrowns, and some eggs.

I’ve been paying for it ever since.  After two months on a new regime of mostly veggies, my body can’t digest animal fat and simple carbs.  But, oh, what a nice, salty, crunchy plate of edible sin it was.

Corky, aka Little Miss FartyPants

When I talked my husband into getting a dog, a process that involved much manipulation and some outright lying, the thing that persuaded him the most was my promise to get lots of exercise walking our new fur baby.

Two years later, I’m getting lots of exercise, but not with the dog.

Corky, our French Bulldog, is what can nicely be referred to as “untrainable.”  In other words, she’s stupid.  She still doesn’t understand that the halter and leash mean serious power walking, not a zig-zag nose-to-the-ground sniff fest. You’d be surprised how strong a 25-pound bulldog can be.  She pulls me all over the neighborhood in search of the latest messages posted by other dogs on fence posts and car tires.  Here’s a message for you: hurry up and squat!

True to the spirit of my promise, I am getting a lot more exercise now that we have a dog.  Here’s how I do it.  I take Corky out for a quick pee, put her in her crate and then get in the car and drive to the Y.

cataloupe with cottage cheese is even better than a peach

Do you ever just wake up and feel like nothing can stop you in your quest?  That was today.  I was going to cook 3 squares and make each and every one of them healthy or take myself to the woodshed. With just a bit of quality time in the kitchen, I treated my body to no fewer than nine (count ‘em – 9!) different  kinds of vegetables and zero kinds of bad things.

Breakfast: Fresh peach and low-fat cottage cheese

Lunch: Quinoa with sauteed mushrooms(1), red peppers(2), Green onions(3)

Dinner: Turkey sausage, baked sweet potato fries(4), broccoli(5), and salad with romaine(6), tomatoes(7), cucumbers(8) and carrots(9).

Snack: The sweet taste of virtue.  And a kiwi.