Crab Stacks with Ginger Lime Dressing

January 25, 2012

If the end of January is approaching then I know I can expect a variety of things:  emails from sites I subscribe to sharing the perfect Super Bowl snacks, bloggers swapping their tried and true party dish faves, and people talking about whether they’re planning on a game day get together or not.  None of it has been discussed in our house yet, because we’ve been busy, busy, busy with life enjoying a long weekend making like tourists in West Hollywood, soaking up the last bits of our youngest’s company before he returns to San Francisco for the spring semester, celebrating family birthdays and anniversaries, and in the past couple of days, nursing one of our cats back to health after a run in with a neighbor’s kitty.  Goodness!  And it’s not over yet.  Any time now, my husband will ask about what’s on our  Super Bowl agenda.  It always seems to be a last minute sort of thing most years, and that’s just fine with me because it doesn’t take too much thought to decide which snacks football fans will expect to have at their fingertips whether they’re for our small family, or a larger group.

I doubt there has ever been a time we haven’t had fresh salsa or pico de gallo with guacamole and tortilla chips.  A pot of chili with all the fixin’s and a salad for halftime eats are also the norm even though the chili recipe varies from one year to the next.  But I’m also known for sneaking in something that may raise eyebrows, causing certain guests to cast one another a nervous glance before pointing and asking, “What is that?” then politely suppressing the urge to continue with, “Do I have to eat it?”  as they reel their fingers back in.  Actually, they now ask, “How do I eat it?” because it seems my food often has rules that accompany it — or must seem like it does.   Is it supposed to be dipped, or layered?  Which of the ingredients on the plate create the best bite?  Is it finger food, or do I need a plate and fork?  To their credit, they seem much more enthusiastic than they did years ago, so I know my risks to encourage people to try something new haven’t failed, and that makes me happy.

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Apple Tart Alsatian Style

January 18, 2012

You’ve promised your body that you will adopt a healthier lifestyle — something just shy of a “diet” because you know yourself too well.  If what you’ve taken on is reduced to that, it’s probably not going to last because you don’t believe in diets — and for good reason.  You’ve seen too many people begin with all the motivation they can muster, then when they realize the pounds aren’t falling off as quickly as they’d like, or that after what is considered a good effort, they’ve plateaued, motivation dwindles and the “diet” is quietly ignored.  I can’t risk that because my knees will never forgive me for having to carry around 50 pounds they hadn’t counted on at their age.

Poor knees.

Last September when I began to think about more obsessively about my weight and lack of routine exercise (no coincidence since I’d just turned 55) I began to find reasons to avoid the kitchen.  Meals became food I could easily pick up and eat with little or no thought.  I stopped looking at new recipes and rarely used one to try something new for dinner.  And baking?  I stopped that almost completely because it seemed pointless to bake something, taste it, then try to find a home for it outside of mine.  I’ve never been a big sweets eater, but I thoroughly enjoy spending a morning in the kitchen baking something — especially if it involves a little thought or teaches me something new.  I miss that and know baking needs to be a part of my life — as does dessert.

Dessert is a food group, isn’t it?

I’m kidding, of course, but the point is I want to bake and enjoy dessert occasionally so have to find a balance with desserts that showcase a simple fruit without a lot of added sugar or an excessive amount of fat, for example.

Something classic, satisfying.  Elegant, but not fussy.

With apples.

Glorious apples.

Just a small slice?

Yes, please.

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{ 28 comments }

Coming Clean: Detox Soup

January 9, 2012

 

It’s that time of year, isn’t it?  The time that many think of being more healthy, adding wholesome food to their diets, exercising more, and yes, losing weight.  There’s nothing quite like a fresh, new calendar year and January 1st to motivate us — even those of us who enjoy telling others resolutions oriented to the above mentioned actions — or any action — are just not our cup of tea.  I am in that group, and smirk at my reflection when I pause long enough to look knowing I’m fooling only myself and that much of my resistance to making New Year’s resolutions has to do with a variety of things, not the least of which is that I know I can make a decision at any time of the year to make a change in my habits.  Why wait for a particular day?

Here and there throughout each week, each month, each year, I am rarely free of thinking about whether I’ve eaten enough vegetables, enough whole grain, food packed with essential vitamins and minerals, drunk enough water, kept portions reasonable, made sure I ate breakfast, use mono-saturated fat in controlled amounts, watch the sugar I stir into my coffee, and work to balance protein and carbs.  Knowing what to eat and how much of it to be in good health is one thing, and living a healthy life style entirely another.  I love to tell myself that all is well because I very rarely eat fast food, or even buy food that is packaged for easy preparation or snacking.  I’ve baked almost nothing in months, and what has been baked usually leaves the house as soon as it’s out of the oven.  It’s never been difficult to avoid chips when they’re in the house, crackers, cookies, or any of the typical snack foods I know others have trouble with.  No, my weakness comes in a wine bottle — one that preferably contains white wine, but I’ll drink red with little or no arm twisting.  I sip, sip, sip it each evening — yes, each –  consuming all that sugar knowing that to make matters worse, I won’t exercise regularly, so the calories add up over time.  And?  It’s alcohol.

I know.

The math is fairly simple though.  If I cut out the wine and get out for a 3-mile walk each day, then surely, I will lose weight, right?  But I make no effort.

The last time I seriously made an effort was five years ago.  In fact it was the reason I started Sass & Veracity.  I thought that if I wrote about all things nutrition, diet, and weight loss, I’d be able to hold myself accountable and lose 50 lbs. in the process.  Losing fifty pounds would get me back to the weight I was in my mid-twenties after the birth of my two oldest boys.  The irony of that is I thought I was overweight then and probably eat far more healthily now (minus the wine).  Five years ago with approximately eight weeks of adopting a diet loosely based on The South Beach Diet,  and regularly scheduled exercise, I managed to lose 10 lbs.  But I struggled to get past a critical psychological point and lost motivation.  The exercise dwindled to be less routine, and well, here I am today, obsessed with the idea of being more thin, but never really doing anything about it.

I think one of the reasons I stopped writing here as much as I have in the past is that spending huge amounts of time thinking about recipes, buying food, writing about it, talking about it, and reading about it all day each day began to make me a bit crazy.  It takes quite a bit of seat time to accomplish that, and since I’m horrible at routine exercise unless it’s at the crack of dawn, my body doesn’t move that much. Counting the number of times I walk up and down our stairs every day doesn’t count.  My husband gave me a requested Wii for my last birthday because I thought it would be easier on my knee than getting out for a walk, and although I do love the yoga stretching and balancing, it’s not been used for more than racing cows on New Year’s Eve in quite a while.

Our complex has a nice little gym with everything I’d need to routinely work out.  There’s a lap pool as well.  Do I use them?  No.  An uninterrupted stretch of beach several miles long is a 5-minute drive from my house, and although I do enjoy walking there, I only manage it once or twice a month.  There’s a rowing machine in our garage propped against the wall that hasn’t been used in years.  I have two sizes of exercise balls, two sizes of hand weights, a stretchy thing with handles I use once every blue moon if it’s laying on the floor blocking my path to the kitchen, and a weighted ball with a handle I blame for the torn meniscus in my right knee I had surgery for a year ago.  I have a Pilates DVD, a great Pilates book, and a variety of On-Demand exercising videos available to me for free if only I’ll turn on the television and actually engage in the exercise. I’ve subscribed to Jillian Michaels and bailed after one workout.  ONE.  I joined Sparks People, set up a profile, and never returned. I ordered Sensa, tried it for two days and decided it was ridiculous, then returned it.  I think I actually was hoodwinked into purchasing Hoodia, but never used it.  I have watched and enjoyed The Biggest Loser for the past five or six seasons, amazed at how much weight the contestants lose, and am only motivated to get off the couch to use my 8-lb. weights to stretch a few times while it’s on.

It’s pathetic.

But when I think of going on a diet to assist me in changing some of my habits, I can’t help but feel so much of what I could achieve is temporary — or even dangerous.  Eating like a cave man?  Um, no thank you.  Subjecting myself to extreme detox diets to lose weight fast?  Not worth it.  A liquid meal substitute based diet?  Not when I know that eating fresh vegetables is ultimately more beneficial and with fewer calories than most liquid diets.  No, it has to be a combination of ideas — something with the support of a routine, eating and cooking food I already enjoy, and with flexibility I need built in. Most importantly, I need to be interested in it without it taking over my life.  Instead, it needs to become my life, quietly, and routinely — like nothing has changed.

I have no excuses.  I’m retired.  (Insert much happy dancing here!) I used to gaze longingly at the people going on their morning walk as I drove past on my way to work thinking, if only I didn’t have to go to work.  Even now, I see them outside the window next to where I’m sitting — walking, jogging, cycling — all while I sit on this ball thinking and writing.  So what are my obstacles, perceived or real?  My knee still bothers me, but I know which exercises will continue to strengthen it.  Spending time in the evening watching television with my husband could be an obstacle as well, but I’ll work on that. Ultimately, my biggest obstacle is doing anything mindless.  If I can’t read, or listen, think constructively, or plan while I’m exercising, it’s like being put in a cage.  Even music does little to fend off the crazies.  Is it possible to meditate while exercising?

So where is all of this going?  We’ll call it the starting line in the sand of a different direction with a predetermined destination.  And to make it legitimate:  reduce my caloric intake by 400 calories a day + increase calories burned by 400 a day.  It should take about 32 weeks to reach my goal weight of 140 lbs. just in time to celebrate a couple of milestones.  I’m not motivated by little black dresses or high-heeled shoes and never have been, but this could definitely keep me focused as a little reward.

So it appears I’m beginning something, doesn’t it?  Cheer me along, please?

Now, let’s have soup.

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{ 34 comments }

2011: Food for Thought

January 2, 2012

The older I get, the more quickly time seems to pass.  This isn’t to say that at ten, for example, I didn’t find myself on the last week of summer vacation, longing for yet another week to spend acting as if the days were endless and my responsibilities few.  But it’s different, now.  The days actually do seem endless so have a tendency to run together, leaving me with skewed ideas about when certain events happened, or how old something or someone is.  The eternal optimist in me always defaults to the fewer is better theory, and I tend to be wrong in those estimates.

Trying to locate particular shots in the libraries of my more than 20,000 photos provides a great example of this.  Bear in mind that I have the ability to actually organize my photos in more than a time based sequence, but I haven’t done that, so scroll through them thinking whatever I’m looking for will be easy to find.  It’s then I realize the notion of mine being a food centric life proves to be far more than a catch phrase as I scroll through our lives’ events searching for a recipe:  the layered ice cream cake for my youngest son’s graduation from high school year before last; a vegetable soup discovered during a weekend getaway to the mountains this past year; and those potatoes.  Those amazing potatoes we enjoyed on a trip to Las Vegas after busy season last year.

Or was it the year before?

And so my searching goes with each dish triggering memories of people and places, happy times, and sad events — all framed by the food we’ve eaten.  It’s an interesting way to think about one’s life.

Often, I become so involved by the images of our lives events, I forget which recipe I’m looking for, until reminded by something I’ve scribbled in one of my recipe notebooks, or a particular kitchen tool I used to create it.  Then the cycle repeats.  It’s maddening, but beneficial, being able to take stock of accomplishments, chide myself about what hasn’t been done, or be wistful about fleeting moments surely forgotten had I not had my camera.

Twenty-eleven was a year of learning different than any I’ve had before — a year of adjusting, growing, strengthening, and accepting all that comes in a year’s time.  Here’s my top 10 list of lessons learned in the past year — or acknowledged having learned yet again — definitely food for thought.

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{ 15 comments }

A Food Lover’s Road Trip through New England

December 3, 2011

I glanced at the date on my last post knowing that much time had passed, but had no idea two months could pass so quickly.  Suffice to say that life has happened in all its manifestations — some joyous, and others, far less.

At first, I gave in to the prodding of it all, enjoying a real excuse to not write, not take photos of our food, in fact, avoid climbing the stairs to my office to work for any reason whatsoever.  Then, there was a feeling of relief, somewhat like that I experienced on my last day of work.  It wasn’t a face down in the sand sort of thing, but still.  Eventually, I began to notice a quiet nagging that inserted itself into quiet moments, reminding me I had work to do.

So what have I done in the time that has passed beyond missing the people I’ve come to know and love who enjoy food as much as I do without saying as much as a how do you do before dropping out of sight?

Well.

After a lifetime of wanting to visit New England in the fall, I can finally say I’ve done that.  Starting in Portsmouth, NH, we traveled to Maine, Vermont, Upstate New York, Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Rhode Island with New Hampshire thrown in at least twice.  And we’ve done it as a couple after so many, many years of vacationing with children and others.  All wonderful vacations, absolutely, but there is something different about heading out with your sweetheart to see new places and things, enjoy great food, and good company — for almost two weeks.  The grand test in life is to spend time with the person you made all those promises to in front of all those people years ago on your wedding day and know that you’ll laugh, share a bit of wonder and worry, get lost a few times even though you have GPS, and squabble, yet hold hands.  Crying is in order as well if you’re anything like I am, for all kinds of reasons.  Oh, the sheer joy of it all.   The glorious beauty.  I thank goodness that I am able to travel and see where and how others live their lives.  It enriches me beyond all my expectations each and every time we set out to places unknown to us.

Then there is the post vacation, back to Earth recovery.

So much has gone on  it’s been difficult to care about writing about food partially because it seems so trivial in comparison.  In the meantime, I’ve enjoyed living life watching each day pass, busying myself with mundane tasks so I can mull over everything with the added benefit of seeming to be more organized than when I began.  It’s been purposeful and restorative.

But I’ve begun to feel as if I’m playing hookey.  Ditching class.  Hiding out to avoid what’s required, yet missing what’s important.

You know.  Work.  It’s important.

So here I am.  I’m back to work.  I’m searching for the words and trying to explain, hoping it doesn’t sound like the proverbial excuse written on the tattered remnant of a receipt left in one of my reusable grocery bags.  I’ve got recipes lined up waiting to be shared.  Lots of them.  And even more exciting — the discovery of a local farmer who delivers!  Amazing.

But life is like that if we take the time to notice, isn’t it?  Especially the very small bits and pieces.

Here are the bits and pieces of our road trip through New England.

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Five Onion Confit

October 8, 2011

I grew up expecting to have to eat the onions on my plate whether I wanted them or not. That’s just how it went at our house, and I didn’t question it.  Good thing I’ve always liked them.   Although I remember my mother telling me my grandfather liked a good onion sandwich, we had them sliced and in salads — mostly yellow onions because they were a staple — but scallions were included once in a while, along with red onions.  Now that I think of it, red onions made their appearance when we lived in Spain because they were served in the cafes, often included with cucumbers and tomatoes in a very light water and red wine vinegar marinade.  No lettuce, just a sprinkle of salt.  It was wonderful.

Onions were chopped and fried in bacon fat for the liver my mother enjoyed so much, and as much as I didn’t want a taste of the liver, I could sit all day and inhale the aroma of those onions.  Chopped onions went into simple spaghetti sauce to flavor it, or in goulash along with other vegetables and pasta, because it didn’t seem right to not have them in the mix.  My mother’s meatloaf wouldn’t be meatloaf without chopped onions.  They were quartered and added to our Sunday pot roast with carrots and celery as well, but I didn’t appreciate their flavor in the braise.  Perhaps it was the sweetness — something I expected in the more predictable foods kids enjoy — not an onion.  I still had to eat them. I liked them best raw on burgers, or a salami sandwich, the crunch and sharp spike of flavor something that was definitely missed if it wasn’t included.

Maybe it was the onion soup my father made one year before a holiday dinner.  I’m surprised I don’t remember the details of his making it, but the flavor of those long cooked onions nestled in a rich broth gave me a different perspective on just how unique the sweetness of caramelized onions could be.  I’d never had onion confit, though, and wondered just how different it might be.  Would the sweetness that it took me years to appreciate be more intense and if it was, would I enjoy it?  Based on many of the recipes I’ve come across where onion confit or jam is included, I’m thinking yes.

But would one type of onion suffice?

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