I had not planned for this to be a point-counterpoint sort of evening, but the facts speak for themselves. Exercise may help tilt one's calorie balance away from the pizza in one's mouth, but there is no Antifood in my immediate vicinity as overpowering as a hot plastic bag.
In a truly bold move (a Truly Bold Move), my spouse decided to try storing lettuce and rashes on the countertop like fruit. His logic stated that they were unrefrigerated on display in the farm stand, and therefore they could be stored unrefrigerated at home. In the summer heat. In plastic bags. In our kitchen. It was a bold experiment, and I respect a little risk-taking, now and then.
But just now, just this very evening, not minutes ago, I approached the produce hoping that his experiment had yielded the desired results--unchanged, room-temperature, farm-fresh salad fixins'.
Goodness no.
In a mere 30-something hours, the radish leaves had disintegrated impressively. The smell rivaled a cat box in organic horror, but was entirely vegetarian. I washed the radishes and put them in the fridge, but I cannot eat them. They will likely need to be replaced.
Oh, the horror.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Exercise: The Antifood
It's Opposite Day somewhere, so I'm going to seize this opportunity to wax semi-poetic in my food blog on the subject of Exercise: The Antifood.
For the past two weeks, my husband and I have gone on modest neighborhood hikes each evening after I get home from work. We live in an area full of horse trails, so these hikes are a practical way to get some enjoyable, regular exercise without having to spend money on a gym membership or personal machines (bikes, not-bikes, etc.).
I have begun to shrink. I have begun to shrink much more steadily than I did when I tried a food-only approach. I dream of going to comic book conventions dressed like Leeloo from "The Fifth Element." Ace bandages, ribs, orange hair, invisible eyebrows.
Mind you, the bodily changes that I have ACTUALLY undergone as a result of a mere two weeks of mild exercise are subtle enough that I'm sure only I can see them. Even my clothes are only vaguely aware of it. But I can see the changes, and I am prematurely smug, because premature smugness suits me so. (Even though I tentatively anticipate gaining the weight back once my husband's classes start up again next month, because he will longer be available in the evenings to join me. I will likely binge on video games, almond butter and "Torchwood" each night to numb my loneliness. But this is entirely enough of that kind of talk! I am here, writing right now, to discuss basic, daily exercise like it's some new thing I just found.)
I have concluded that exercise is antifood.
Similar to a specialized antimatter, in that it mathematically cancels out food. The food that one has already eaten; the food that one is eating right now; the food that one will eat later.
As with all things that refer ever-so-vaguely to numbers, this makes me smile.
For the past two weeks, my husband and I have gone on modest neighborhood hikes each evening after I get home from work. We live in an area full of horse trails, so these hikes are a practical way to get some enjoyable, regular exercise without having to spend money on a gym membership or personal machines (bikes, not-bikes, etc.).
I have begun to shrink. I have begun to shrink much more steadily than I did when I tried a food-only approach. I dream of going to comic book conventions dressed like Leeloo from "The Fifth Element." Ace bandages, ribs, orange hair, invisible eyebrows.
Mind you, the bodily changes that I have ACTUALLY undergone as a result of a mere two weeks of mild exercise are subtle enough that I'm sure only I can see them. Even my clothes are only vaguely aware of it. But I can see the changes, and I am prematurely smug, because premature smugness suits me so. (Even though I tentatively anticipate gaining the weight back once my husband's classes start up again next month, because he will longer be available in the evenings to join me. I will likely binge on video games, almond butter and "Torchwood" each night to numb my loneliness. But this is entirely enough of that kind of talk! I am here, writing right now, to discuss basic, daily exercise like it's some new thing I just found.)
I have concluded that exercise is antifood.
Similar to a specialized antimatter, in that it mathematically cancels out food. The food that one has already eaten; the food that one is eating right now; the food that one will eat later.
As with all things that refer ever-so-vaguely to numbers, this makes me smile.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Quinoa, Blueberries, Coconut and Milk
I am all about pantry cooking, and I am all about frozen ingredients. Today's "thing I am eating" is nutrient-dense, delicious, cheap, and was assembled out of stuff I had on hand. It has also helped to manage my rampaging sweet-tooth, which is a pretty scary accomplishment for a healthy food to achieve.
Step 1. Make Quinoa
It's more expensive than rice, but is a whole protein all by itself and is available in large containers for cheap-ish at Costco. Plus, it's gluten free, in case you're into that.
Cook it by boiling the way the package advises you to, which is basically the same method as cooking rice.
Step 2. Heat Frozen Blueberries
I lined the bottom of a microwave-safe cereal bowl with frozen blueberries and microwaved them for about a minute, because it's August and I wanted them lukewarm. Keep them frozen or cook them until hot if you'd prefer.
I know lining the bottom of the bowl doesn't look like very many blueberries, but the other ingredients will pick up their flavor. (This is a good way to make a small package of frozen blueberries last longer.)
Step 3. Add Cooked Quinoa
Spoon it over the blueberries. Use as much as you want, it should pick up the blueberry flavor pretty well. Think of an oatmeal-to-fruit ratio.
Step 4. Add Shredded Coconut
I used about a tablespoon of sweetened, shredded coconut, because that's what I have. I'll concede that using an ingredient that has sugar in it is kind of cheating, given that the dish is otherwise such a health-bomb... But your FACE is kind of cheating! Burn.
Step 5. Pour Milk Like It's Cereal
Pretty straightforward.
Step 6. Mix Together And Eat
This step is even more straightforward.
You're welcome.
Step 1. Make Quinoa
It's more expensive than rice, but is a whole protein all by itself and is available in large containers for cheap-ish at Costco. Plus, it's gluten free, in case you're into that.
Cook it by boiling the way the package advises you to, which is basically the same method as cooking rice.
Step 2. Heat Frozen Blueberries
I lined the bottom of a microwave-safe cereal bowl with frozen blueberries and microwaved them for about a minute, because it's August and I wanted them lukewarm. Keep them frozen or cook them until hot if you'd prefer.
I know lining the bottom of the bowl doesn't look like very many blueberries, but the other ingredients will pick up their flavor. (This is a good way to make a small package of frozen blueberries last longer.)
Step 3. Add Cooked Quinoa
Spoon it over the blueberries. Use as much as you want, it should pick up the blueberry flavor pretty well. Think of an oatmeal-to-fruit ratio.
Step 4. Add Shredded Coconut
I used about a tablespoon of sweetened, shredded coconut, because that's what I have. I'll concede that using an ingredient that has sugar in it is kind of cheating, given that the dish is otherwise such a health-bomb... But your FACE is kind of cheating! Burn.
Step 5. Pour Milk Like It's Cereal
Pretty straightforward.
Step 6. Mix Together And Eat
This step is even more straightforward.
You're welcome.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Twin Peaks Sandwich
Today's lunch has been assembled using leftovers from a recent party:
1. Slices of brie.
2. Hoagie rolls of a decent quality.
I put the brie into the rolls, and in doing so built a sandwich:
But this is not just any sandwich!!! The roll isn't a proper baguette and I didn't add butter, but I am nonetheless eating a television theme meal right now, as I'm typing this.
Behold:
One of my favorite scenes from one of my favorite shows.
Aww yeah.
Jerry Horne returns from Paris, and shares sandwiches with his brother Benjamin.
And I mean, if you can't take milk fat advice from dudes named Ben and Jerry, what's left in life? (Ouch. I just kicked myself for telling that joke.)
Cubicle picnic glamor shot:
1. Slices of brie.
2. Hoagie rolls of a decent quality.
I put the brie into the rolls, and in doing so built a sandwich:
But this is not just any sandwich!!! The roll isn't a proper baguette and I didn't add butter, but I am nonetheless eating a television theme meal right now, as I'm typing this.
Behold:
One of my favorite scenes from one of my favorite shows.
Aww yeah.
Jerry Horne returns from Paris, and shares sandwiches with his brother Benjamin.
And I mean, if you can't take milk fat advice from dudes named Ben and Jerry, what's left in life? (Ouch. I just kicked myself for telling that joke.)
Cubicle picnic glamor shot:
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Lindsay's Irish Cabbage
My dinner tonight is fantastic! I'm giving the blog spotlight to the cabbage.
Now, I'm Irish-American, and my research into the subject of traditional Irish cabbage preparations was half-assed. But WHATEVER it is that I'm eating, that I just made, is great.
Here's what I did:
Preheat the oven to 350 f.
Sauté 2-3 slices of bacon in at least 1/4" of olive oil the bottom of a soup pot until crispy. Remove bacon and the bacon-olive-oil, and set aside.
Quarter a head of cabbage and peel off the icky outer leaves. Fill the bacon pot with water and boil the cabbage until soft. Maybe 20 mins? I didn't keep track. You know how to boil cabbage.
Once the cabbage is cooked, put in a roasting pan. Drizzle a little of the cooking water over top, to keep it from drying out in the oven. Drizzle the bacon-olive-oil over the cabbage and crumble the bacon over the cabbage.
Roast at 350 f for about 40 minutes. It's done when it starts to brown and the edges start to crisp. Salt before eating.
Fantastic.
Now, I'm Irish-American, and my research into the subject of traditional Irish cabbage preparations was half-assed. But WHATEVER it is that I'm eating, that I just made, is great.
Here's what I did:
Preheat the oven to 350 f.
Sauté 2-3 slices of bacon in at least 1/4" of olive oil the bottom of a soup pot until crispy. Remove bacon and the bacon-olive-oil, and set aside.
Quarter a head of cabbage and peel off the icky outer leaves. Fill the bacon pot with water and boil the cabbage until soft. Maybe 20 mins? I didn't keep track. You know how to boil cabbage.
Once the cabbage is cooked, put in a roasting pan. Drizzle a little of the cooking water over top, to keep it from drying out in the oven. Drizzle the bacon-olive-oil over the cabbage and crumble the bacon over the cabbage.
Roast at 350 f for about 40 minutes. It's done when it starts to brown and the edges start to crisp. Salt before eating.
Fantastic.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Toad-in-the-Hole, Girl Scout Eggs, etc...
Making breakfast for myself while my husband sleeps in means that I can have whatever I want, without collaborating along the lines of what he's in the mood to cook or eat.
Today, right at this very moment in time, I am having one of my favorites: Toad-in-the-Hole, aka Girl Scout Eggs.
Step 1: Cut a hole in the bread.
Step 2: Fry an egg in the bread.
Step 3: Make her open the bread. And that's the way you do it.
Wait, what?
Back to topic.
Normally, I butter the bread a little before pan-frying, but today I just used a lot of olive oil. A LOT of olive oil. It is oilier than a donut. It's crunchy and greasy and very heavy. I am so full, guys, omg.
This is good because, on occasion, I love a seriously greasy breakfast and olive oil is one of the better greases for serious ingestion.
This is also good because I want to feel as full and sated as possible without actually preparing very much food, because I want to postpone my next trip to the grocery store for as long as I can.
One egg and one slice of bread (170 calories together, ungreased) are magically transformed into a huge meal by frying 'em up in olive oil (120 calories per tablespoon, and my bread absorbed somewhere between two and four tablespoons--I drizzled generously without measuring).
410 to 650 reasonably health-like calories for under $0.25, and I feel so fed that my next meal can just be lightly salted vegetables boiled in a nice broth for all I care.
Nice.
Today, right at this very moment in time, I am having one of my favorites: Toad-in-the-Hole, aka Girl Scout Eggs.
Step 1: Cut a hole in the bread.
Step 2: Fry an egg in the bread.
Step 3: Make her open the bread. And that's the way you do it.
Wait, what?
Back to topic.
Normally, I butter the bread a little before pan-frying, but today I just used a lot of olive oil. A LOT of olive oil. It is oilier than a donut. It's crunchy and greasy and very heavy. I am so full, guys, omg.
This is good because, on occasion, I love a seriously greasy breakfast and olive oil is one of the better greases for serious ingestion.
This is also good because I want to feel as full and sated as possible without actually preparing very much food, because I want to postpone my next trip to the grocery store for as long as I can.
One egg and one slice of bread (170 calories together, ungreased) are magically transformed into a huge meal by frying 'em up in olive oil (120 calories per tablespoon, and my bread absorbed somewhere between two and four tablespoons--I drizzled generously without measuring).
410 to 650 reasonably health-like calories for under $0.25, and I feel so fed that my next meal can just be lightly salted vegetables boiled in a nice broth for all I care.
Nice.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Hello Panda, I love you
Hello Panda is one of my favorite brands of commercially produced cookies.
I like them enough that my husband will actually point them out in the grocery store when he wants to get an immediate, cheerful response out of me. "Hey Lindsay, they have Hello Panda!" "Yeah they do! I love those things." I'll even drop whatever I'm talking about to acknowledge them, which makes these cookies a useful way for people around me to initiate fast changes in conversational topic.
(Other, similar strategies include pointing out nearby small animals--"Hey Lindsay, there's a dog across the street!"--fish tanks, Doctor Who paraphernalia, novelty socks, etc. I try to keep a lot of conversational eject buttons conveniently placed in my behavioral programming, because they do tend to come in handy. Now back to the subject of cookies.)
It's true that I am at least a little biased by how TOTALLY ADORABLE the cartoon panda on the box is, but the cookies inside are also lovely independent of their cute marketing strategy.
Hello Panda Cookies Are Nicely Portioned
Each little cookie is modestly sized, approximately 1" x 1" x 0.5" which makes portion control much easier than with many other delicious, commercially produced, boxed cookies.
The internet (whom I am tentatively trusting, because Nabisco's website only gives Oreo calorie information by the gram, not by the cookie) states that a single Oreo cookie contains 70 calories. Quite a lot of cardiovascular exercise and/or austere eating elsewhere is needed to offset a stack of Oreos, making them something of a special occasion cookie.
Hello Panda cookies are 20 calories each, and eating 3.5 of them (70 calories) feels like considerably more cookie time than a single Oreo does. While they are still genuinely cookies for cookies' sake, they're still a more manageable choice for cookie time in normal life.
In defense of Oreos, Hello Panda cookies are not as suitable for dunking in milk. But different cookies are best for different situations.
Hello Panda Cookies Have a Lovely Balance of Textures and Flavors
I likened Hello Panda cookies to Oreo cookies because the flavors and textures are reasonably comparable. They're quite different foods, but familiarity with one can help build a fuller imaginary representation of the other.
Both cookies have wonderful, crunchy exteriors and pleasing (if a little confusing) creamy middles.
Both cookies have chocolate-themed elements that are not actual chocolate, and both seem to be full of sweetened, mildly dangerous shortening. (IS it shortening? It is shortening, isn't it. Is it? Is it?)
Hello Panda cookies have a perfectly crunchy and mild biscuit exterior, and they are filled with a creamy, not-actually-ganache "choco cream."
The consistency of the biscuit layer is similar to that of the snack food style of small, hard pretzels. (Which I am making a little too much effort to distinguish from the larger, soft, baked, traditional pretzels.)
The Hello Panda outer cookie is slightly more brittle than a pretzel. It's less tough, less salty, and is a little thicker and sweeter, without being too sweet. The biscuit exterior gently cracks and snaps apart when bitten, and does not bend under pressure. The flavor resembles shortbread, but is less greasy and intense. (Shortbread isn't particularly intensely flavored, but these cookies are still milder.)
As mentioned before, the cookies have a delicious, chocolate-themed filling, similar to ganache but more shelf-stable. Like the outside, the filling is not overly sweet. To liken it to other chocolatey products found in many American grocery stores, the texture is slightly harder than Nutella but slightly softer than the inside of a a Lindt truffle.
The combination of crunch with smooth, of flour-based flavors with chocolate-like candy/frosting flavors, is very nice. Perfectly suited to the not-quite-a-baked-good, also-not-candy role that I have for crunchy, commercially produced, boxed cookies.
That, and, did you see how cute the cartoon panda is?!?! Wow.
I like them enough that my husband will actually point them out in the grocery store when he wants to get an immediate, cheerful response out of me. "Hey Lindsay, they have Hello Panda!" "Yeah they do! I love those things." I'll even drop whatever I'm talking about to acknowledge them, which makes these cookies a useful way for people around me to initiate fast changes in conversational topic.
(Other, similar strategies include pointing out nearby small animals--"Hey Lindsay, there's a dog across the street!"--fish tanks, Doctor Who paraphernalia, novelty socks, etc. I try to keep a lot of conversational eject buttons conveniently placed in my behavioral programming, because they do tend to come in handy. Now back to the subject of cookies.)
It's true that I am at least a little biased by how TOTALLY ADORABLE the cartoon panda on the box is, but the cookies inside are also lovely independent of their cute marketing strategy.
Hello Panda Cookies Are Nicely Portioned
Each little cookie is modestly sized, approximately 1" x 1" x 0.5" which makes portion control much easier than with many other delicious, commercially produced, boxed cookies.
The internet (whom I am tentatively trusting, because Nabisco's website only gives Oreo calorie information by the gram, not by the cookie) states that a single Oreo cookie contains 70 calories. Quite a lot of cardiovascular exercise and/or austere eating elsewhere is needed to offset a stack of Oreos, making them something of a special occasion cookie.
Hello Panda cookies are 20 calories each, and eating 3.5 of them (70 calories) feels like considerably more cookie time than a single Oreo does. While they are still genuinely cookies for cookies' sake, they're still a more manageable choice for cookie time in normal life.
In defense of Oreos, Hello Panda cookies are not as suitable for dunking in milk. But different cookies are best for different situations.
Hello Panda Cookies Have a Lovely Balance of Textures and Flavors
I likened Hello Panda cookies to Oreo cookies because the flavors and textures are reasonably comparable. They're quite different foods, but familiarity with one can help build a fuller imaginary representation of the other.
Both cookies have wonderful, crunchy exteriors and pleasing (if a little confusing) creamy middles.
Both cookies have chocolate-themed elements that are not actual chocolate, and both seem to be full of sweetened, mildly dangerous shortening. (IS it shortening? It is shortening, isn't it. Is it? Is it?)
Hello Panda cookies have a perfectly crunchy and mild biscuit exterior, and they are filled with a creamy, not-actually-ganache "choco cream."
The consistency of the biscuit layer is similar to that of the snack food style of small, hard pretzels. (Which I am making a little too much effort to distinguish from the larger, soft, baked, traditional pretzels.)
The Hello Panda outer cookie is slightly more brittle than a pretzel. It's less tough, less salty, and is a little thicker and sweeter, without being too sweet. The biscuit exterior gently cracks and snaps apart when bitten, and does not bend under pressure. The flavor resembles shortbread, but is less greasy and intense. (Shortbread isn't particularly intensely flavored, but these cookies are still milder.)
As mentioned before, the cookies have a delicious, chocolate-themed filling, similar to ganache but more shelf-stable. Like the outside, the filling is not overly sweet. To liken it to other chocolatey products found in many American grocery stores, the texture is slightly harder than Nutella but slightly softer than the inside of a a Lindt truffle.
The combination of crunch with smooth, of flour-based flavors with chocolate-like candy/frosting flavors, is very nice. Perfectly suited to the not-quite-a-baked-good, also-not-candy role that I have for crunchy, commercially produced, boxed cookies.
That, and, did you see how cute the cartoon panda is?!?! Wow.
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