Where is my Brie?!
Okay, the holidays are over and we are all trying to get back into our normal routines. You know, five-day work weeks (the horror!), regular work outs and for me, the most dreaded, healthy eating. Don’t get me wrong, I am a big proponent of healthy eating, but after a month of indulging, that lightly dressed kale salad is a bitter leaf to swallow. For me, healthy eating is 90% habit and 10% will power. You can’t miss what you don’t have! The holiday month of December totally screws that up and leaves me, well, wanting. It is scary how quickly I become accustomed to drinking a bottle (or two) of Champagne mid-week, nibbling on Moose Munch (Harry & David concoction of dark chocolate, cashews and caramel corn), late night snacks of Brie slathered on chunks of crusty sourdough bread and on and on.
So, here I am seven days into January and totally unsatisfied with EVERYTHING I am eating. Before I go on, I must confess that during non-holiday months, I am a creature of habit. I basically eat the same things every day with some minor variations. Boring I know, but I find that it is easier for me to eat healthfully if I simply stick to a few basics. Before you start thinking I NEVER eat unhealthy food, let me just say that I DO indulge every weekend. I go out to eat with my husband and allow myself a few meals of the things that I KNOW I shouldn’t eat every day. This keeps me on track and gives me something to look forward to while I’m eating my fifth salad of the week.
But now, ALL of my go to meals are leaving bored and grumpy. Yes, grumpy. I don’t WANT to eat the whole wheat tortilla loaded with vegetables and a squeeze of lemon. I want the cheese platter that I had just a week ago. I want that fabulous kalamata olive bread. I want that cheesy potato au gratin dish. I want, I want, I want… No wonder I am grumpy!
So what is the answer? I KNOW I can’t start “Holiday eating” 365 days a year. That would be a road to all sorts of health problems. I also know that if I don’t have a little “something” to help me transition I may just storm into the grocery store, pick up a wheel of Camembert and start gnawing on it while I fend off the security guards with my half-eaten sourdough baguette. My solution has been to ease back into my healthful eating. Sort of like the way one eases into a really hot bath. Slowly and in steps. Yes, I am back to eating salads most nights, but I am adding extra cheese and allowing myself some extra whole wheat bread. I am adding a little of the holidays (cheese, great bread, an extra glass of wine) to every meal and it seems to be working. I’m not as grumpy and I only think about raiding a supermarket’s cheese counter every few hours instead of every minute!
Say Cheese! Happy Birthday to Me!
So, I will be celebrating my birthday in a few days. While I certainly don’t relish the thought of growing another year older (I REALLY think it’s time to throw away the magnifying mirror), I DO get giddy at the thought of all the celebratory food and drink I will consume. Call me crazy, but I allow three days every year for “official” Birthday Eating. One day is definitely not enough and an entire week, while tempting, is just too much. So, with great happiness, I present to you, my upcoming Birthday feasting schedule.
I always have a day during my Birthday Eating where I consume nothing but cheese, bread, wine and champagne. This year, for my sparkling wine/champagne selection, I am getting Yellow Label Veuve Clicquot. If you haven’t tried it, please do! It is a bit pricey, about $45 a bottle (it’s my BIRTHDAY!), but well worth it. A crisp wine with hints of pear and a nice non-acidic finish. I am having three cheeses. Surprise! No Brie. I am going with a Camembert instead. All the runny, creaminess of a Brie, but with a bit more bite. Have to have a Humboldt Fog Goat and finish this trio with a smoked Gouda. I am getting to La Brea Bakery breads to eat with all this cheesy goodness. A Kalamato Olive and a Whole Grain (my nod to health). For the wine, I am undecided. Please suggest! Looking for a big, jammy Zinfandel.
After my day of cheese, I will have my Birthday Dinner out. Here I am a little boring. I always want Italian. More specifically, pizza. With the pizza I want garlic bread, a fabulous salad and yes, more red wine! For dessert I want a piece of carrot cake. Real carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. Doesn’t feel like my Birthday until I am greedily licking cream cheese frosting from a fork.
On day three of my Birthday Feasting I like to go out to breakfast. Normally I am not a breakfast eater, but around my Birthday I look forward to a leisurely brunch. I like a good bagel, perfect breakfast potatoes (not too greasy with onion & bell pepper please), and an omelet stuffed with too much cheese (surprise!), avocado and tomato. And yes, I will sip a mimosa while I dine. That same day, I will go out for late afternoon drinks. Although I have Italian every year for dinner, I still need my Mexican fix. I get it with fresh chips, hot salsa and over the top guacamole enjoyed outside with an ice cold Corona. Sorry, no red wine. Mexican food SCREAMS for beer. That night, we have a Birthday dinner in… Normally I like to have any left over cheese and bread and supplement it with a few deli salads. Of course, red wine to sip.
There you have it. A road map to my upcoming Birthday feasts. If you only eat one Birthday meal, maybe you should think about adopting my three day rule. Think about it. Once a year is a holiday that is truly all about you-your Birthday. Why only have one day and one meal when you can have three? I am off to buy cheese and champagne. Thanks for sharing my Birthday with me…
Valentine’s Day-Love, Chocolate & Cheese
I have always had mixed emotions about Valentine’s Day. Maybe because I have spent more Valentine’s Day as a single person (singles awareness day?) than as a couple. Maybe because all the really cheesy romantic stuff that is shoved down our throats turns my stomach, because, well, it is NOT me. Hell, I still refuse to watch Titanic OR The Notebook. Or, maybe it is due to the fact, that I, like most women, really DO like to get flowers, chocolates and a nice dinner out. So, you can see where I am torn. Do I give into my soft under-belly that wants that box of chocolates or do I allow my very cynical hard exterior to sarcastically pooh-pooh Valentine’s Day and all the over-wrought sentiments for which it stands? Well, I have decided to do both! Here it goes…
My soft under-belly thinks there is absolutely nothing wrong with an evening that involves flowers, good food, wine, chocolate, cheese (both the edible & a little figurative) and sex. I mean, really, what is wrong with that? My husband is great with this, he simply comes out and asks me, “What kind of chocolates do you like?” I know there are some “romantics” (see Titanic sentence above) that would think that was horrible. Not me. I don’t want to be saddled with the wrong chocolates! By the way, I always ask for dark chocolate-nuts and chews. He also always buys me flowers and gives me a very nice card with just enough sentimentality for me to handle. But even better, he buys me cheese! Yes, cheese. Two or three really ripe kinds that he knows I adore. After nibbling on the cheese, we will go out to dinner. At dinner we will drink some great wine and then, if not too full (it has happened!) we will have a romantic evening together (read-sex). I am looking forward to it…
My hard cynical exterior thinks this is all rubbish. That why not get rid of the Valentine’s Day aspect of the aforementioned evening entirely? And simply have an evening that is a celebration of cheese, chocolate, food, wine and sex. No heavy romantic notions needed. No expectations that lead to bitter disappointments. Just a nice night together. My cynical self has a good point. And this is the part of me that worked in restaurants on more Valentine’s Days than I can count. That saw the hypocrisy, falseness and pain (yes, pain) of this so-called Day of Love. Husbands out with their mistresses, women going out with men just to go out and unhappy couples simply going through the motions. If you want to put a magnifying glass on anything that is wrong with your relationship, Valentine’s Day will do it.
The problem as I see it is the pressure we put on ourselves around Valentine’s Day. When we are single, we feel pressure to either go out with our girlfriends (we don’t need a man!) or stay home and take a bath, drink wine, etc (STILL, we don’t need a man!). When we are dating somebody new, we tend to use that first Valentine’s Day as a barometer for the entire relationship. If it goes well, he could be the one. If it goes badly, well then, we are immediately on the phone with our girlfriends dissecting and analyzing EVERY moment of the evening. Desperately trying to figure out what he MEANT by giving us daisies or NOT giving us a card… If we are in a long-term relationship, we torture ourselves with thoughts of, “Will he ask me to marry him tonight?” And then once again over-analyze every detail with our girlfriends if he does or if he doesn’t. If we are married, we pressure ourselves with how we look, is he still attracted to us and the need to have mind-blowing sex. We need to stop the insanity! And simply accept ourselves and/or our partners. Trust me, Valentine’s Day is NOT the day to make any major relationship decisions. For most of us, emotions and expectations are just too high.
Besides, if I had judged the future of my very happy relationship with my husband by our first Valentine’s Day together, I would have thought that we would never have worked and that he was a jerk extraordinaire. Because the first Valentine’s Day I spent with my husband was a disaster. We had decided no gifts. Just cards and dinner. When we got to the restaurant, the hostess hugged my husband and then proceeded to inappropriately fawn all over him. When I could finally peel her off of him, we were seated. I gave him my card and he became angry, saying, “We said no cards!” I argued. He threw his napkin on the table and stood up, threatening to leave. He didn’t, but, well, a damper was put on the evening. We decided to stop at the casino before going home. He played so long, I started falling asleep IN the casino. Finally we get home and he says, “I don’t know if I want to be with you. I think I need a month to figure this out.” I can’t write here what I said back to him for fear of psychologically scarring my readers. Suffice it to say, it involved the “F” word and many other expletives. A few weeks later, he got down on his knee and asked me to marry him.
We now laugh about that Valentine’s Day. I now try not to put so much pressure on myself (and him) on this holiday and simply enjoy it. This year we will eat cheese and chocolates, exchange cards and go out to our favorite Italian restaurant. Then, if we have not eaten too much, we will have a romantic evening together. Even if we do over-indulge (you know, get home and finally exhale as you peel off the pants cutting into your stomach), I know we will have many chances for romantic evenings in the future. And if Valentine’s Day is REALLY all about love, then that is how it should be… Accepting, light-hearted and full of laughter. And cheese, wine and chocolate, of course. Happy Valentine’s Day!
Shut Up & Hand Me Some Fries! The Joys of PMS
Hey ladies (always wanted to say that)! If you are like me, once a month, for about five days, you turn into an emotional, angry, eating machine. Also known as PMS. If you are a woman who is lucky enough not to suffer from this, then God bless you and really, I don’t want to hear how your periods, and the days before, are no different for you than any other time of the month. Especially, when I am in full PMS mode. You know, bloated, tender swollen breasts and ready to kill or cry at a moments notice. Well, because, you, my non-affected friend, may be the subject of my wrath. And that would make me feel bad… In a few days, when I am thinking clearly again. So, in case you haven’t guessed this blog will be all about PMS and the foods that can, temporarily at least, make things a LITTLE better. And men, if you are reading this, good. You may get some insight into what we woman go through on a monthly basis.
When I am PMS I feel like I could eat the world. Literally. Just season it with a little salt and I am ready. My hunger has no bounds. And what am I hungry for? Grease, salt and sugar. Can’t get enough of the stuff. In my youth, silly girl that I was, I used to try to fight and deny this hunger. What happened? I became nearly homicidal and realized it was better to have those french fries than to lose three friends and ostracize my partner every month. Now, I eat. And eat a lot. Days of nothing but fries, pizza and See’s chocolates. Nights in front of the television weeping over a Lifetime “Woman in Peril” movie stuffing my face with grilled cheese sandwiches. Yes, sandwiches, the plurality is NOT a typo. I can quickly move from weeping woman to angry bitch. Then it is me ranting at the, fill in the blank, _______________ (television, car in front of me, cats, husband, moon…). All the while I am ranting, I am shoving into my mouth potato chips and red vines. Ugh! No, I am not proud, just honest. It is during these angry times that I feel like the Stay-Puff marshmallow man from Ghostbusters. My bloated fingers struggling to open the bag of grated cheddar cheese, so I can make a HUGE quesadilla, while angrily mumbling about how my husband didn’t replace the empty toilet paper roll with a new one. Then, just as quickly I am crying again.
What men and those lucky ones that don’t suffer from PMS may not know, is that PMS hurts. No, not cramps like a period, but aches. Your lower back aches, your boobs hurt and your jeans are painfully cutting you in half due to the extra 5-10 pounds of water you are carrying around. Yes, you can take Midol (doesn’t do a thing for me). Or a pain reliever, sure. I drink. To be more exact, I drink red wine. What is strange is that alcohol affects me so much differently when I am in the midst of PMS. One drink and I am buzzed. Two and I am down right drunk. But, if I stick with one, it helps with the aches and can take the edge of my horrible mood. Bonus is that it goes wonderfully with the loaf of sourdough bread I am ripping apart, dipping into Boursin cheese and devouring.
Before I get a lot of advice and “help” from the professionals, let me tell you what I know. I know that exercise helps. And I exercise regularly all month. I know calcium and B vitamins help. I take those all month as well. I drink more than eight glasses of water every day. And I still suffer.
What is a woman, and those that love her, to do? I don’t know about you, but I have learned to accept those few days a month when I turn into an evil Sybil. I am quick to apologize and to warn. I now tell me husband, “I have PMS. I feel like Bloaty the Clown Woman and I REALLY can’t talk right now.” Good husband that he is, he runs from the room. I remind myself that however angry, sad and fat I feel now, I will feel better in a few days. Of course, I also stopped trying to deny my hunger and now eat. In fact, I am getting ready to get out of these jeans (I haven’t taken a deep breath since 8 this morning) and put on my baggiest sweats, eat saltines with mayonnaise until the pizza I ordered arrives and put on a Real Housewives marathon.
Scary Tales of Weekend Pig-Outs
I came to the conclusion today, that if not for my job, I would weigh 300 pounds. And no, I do not do taxing physical labor where I burn off lots of calories. Quite the opposite. I sit at a desk in front of a computer. But I do like to tell myself that typing burns a minimum of 250 calories an hour! Then how, you may ask, is my job controlling my weight? Simply because it gets me out of the house and keeps my mind occupied with thoughts other than, “Hmmm. I have rye bread and that great Swiss cheese. I could have a killer grilled cheese!” Remember, I am a food & wine junkie. When I am at home on the weekend, I am obsessed with food. I want to go out to eat. I want to stay in and eat. I just want to eat. I can’t seem to control myself…
Take this past weekend for example. Friday after work, of course, I went out to an Italian restaurant with my husband. There I ate cheesy garlic bread (a tad salty, but that didn’t stop me), an Italian salad and pizza. I went home and drank three glasses of wine (it WAS Friday!) and ate a pint of Arctic Zero ice cream. I also, got up at three a.m. and ate half a bag of reduced fat Poore Brother’s Chips (I highly recommend these! They are great!) with French Onion Dip. You would THINK I would wake up and not be hungry, right? Well on a “school” day, yes. On the weekend, not a chance. Saturday started with breakfast out. Two eggs over-easy, wheat toast (to dip in the yolks) and home fries. That was at about eight a.m. By ten o’clock I was standing in front of the pantry. Husband said, “You can’t POSSIBLY be hungry!” Silly boy! Of course I was! So I ate half a can of mixed nuts and then made a “snack” of French Bread and Brie cheese. Then it was lunch time! Made quesadillas with guacamole and sour cream. I know! Even writing this I am embarrassed already and I am only half way through the weekend. Saturday night it was out at a local bar where I had an appetizer sampler of fried egg rolls, sweet potato fries and cheesy lavosh. Once home, I ate a chocolate bar and drank two glasses of Malbec.
Then came Sunday… I knew, once again, I had already pigged-out all weekend so I awoke with a renewed sense of resolve. I would not eat my way through the day. Then we turned on football and all bets were off! I mean, really, how am I supposed to control my eating while being bombarded with casual dining, fast food and pizza commercials. So I made grilled cheese sandwiches ( Muenster on sourdough with a lot of mayo and fresh tomato), then finished of the potato chips and dip. For dinner I had a pizza and a HUGE salad. Then ate popcorn, more nuts and a Swiss cheese sandwich. Oink!
So, here I am Monday. Feeling guilty and more than a little bit bloated. Also, wondering why I can’t seem to control myself on the weekends. I don’t start the weekends thinking I am going to mimic one of Adam Richman’s (Man Vs. Food) eating challenges. Quite the opposite. I ALWAYS tell myself that THIS weekend will be different. That I won’t go crazy. That I won’t undo five days of healthy eating in two. But then, just like this past weekend, all hell breaks loose and I am unstoppable.
I know all the “whys”. I know it goes beyond just the simple fact that my job occupies my time during the week. Anybody who has read my blog knows that for me, food is so much more than fuel. It is a celebration, a comfort, a friend and at times, like this weekend, an enemy. I am just struggling with the “hows”. Like, how NOT to eat like a Sumo wrestler all weekend. So, what is a compulsive weekend eater to do? Well, for me I am going to REALLY try to not pig out this upcoming weekend. Believe me, this little confession I just did and seeing, in black and white, all that I ate, will go a long way.
Here I sit. Monday. The week ahead of me and my weekend pig-out right behind me and sticking its tongue out and taunting me! I will face this weekend with a plan and stick to it… Everybody needs to have an indulgent meal or two over the weekend. But I will stop there. I will let you know how it goes. Or I could simply hone my over-eating skills and become a competitive eater. No, I am too aware of what the aftermath of THOSE binge fests would be…
I Was Mad At My Husband- So I Ate A Large Pizza…
I decided since I had already tackled one subject regarding women & food, that I would go ahead and address another- eating & relationships. My girlfriends & I have long discussed how our relationship status (or lack there of) affects how and what we eat. Whether it be fights, engagements, dates or break-ups, inevitably, each of these scenarios has a profound affect on what we, as women, eat. I don’t know why this is, exactly. I just know it is.
I will start with the first date. I don’t know about the rest of you, but when I REALLY like a guy & we go out to dinner, eating is nearly impossible. My stomach is in a knot, I am terrified of having something stuck between my teeth & I somehow lose the ability to use silverware. I drop forks, knock over glasses & order too much red wine. My girlfriends would always call me the next day after a first date and ask, “S0?” My response was always given in food. “I couldn’t eat a thing & dropped my fork three times”, I would reply. That would be met with, “So you like him!” Or, I would say, “I ate a big plate of okay pasta, but they have killer bread. We should go.” Then they knew, it just wasn’t a love connection.
So now, the relationship. When I was young & stupid, I used to think that my boyfriends & men in general, would find me less attractive if I ate. So I would starve my way through weekends with my boyfriend then stop and get pizza slices, sub sandwiches & Mexican food on my way home. How silly! There were times that I DIDN’T sleep over simply because I was starving! Sorry guys, but there are times that even sweet love doesn’t hold a candle to a large extra cheese pizza. Then of course was the post argument eating. I would fight with my boyfriend and then always go eat. Always. So would many of my girlfriends. When I would call them post fight crying, they would say, “I am coming over. What do you want to eat?” What is funny about that is when I broke up with somebody, it always had the opposite effect… I simply couldn’t eat. Who among us hasn’t dropped weight on the “heartbreak diet” ? We would sometimes joke that we needed a good break-up because we had put on a few pounds!
So now I am grown-up (well, on most days), happily married (again, on most days) and I now realize that any man that would love me less because I actually eat would not be worth my time. This doesn’t mean that I no longer have my food/relationship moments. I still turn to something salty & cheesy after an argument and lose my appetite if I get VERY upset. But thankfully, most of my eating is done with my husband.
And for the record. My first date with my husband, my stomach was in knots, I nibbled at a chile relleno & chips, dropped my knife on the floor twice, knocked over the salsa & drank three glasses of red wine! Ahhh, love!
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