Food and life

A number of years ago I heard a call-in show on NPR—something having to do with food; might have been Talk of the Nation or maybe a segment of The Splendid Table with Lynne Rosetto Kasper—on which the guest was World Famous Beer Expert Michael Jackson (one gets the feeling he introduces himself that way a lot) answering questions about beers. One caller asked, “What do you think is the best light beer?” After which there was a long pause and Mr. Jackson finally said:

“Drink less good beer.”

Another anecdote: some celebrity who had lived a good long time—Tony Randall? my memory is total crap these days—was asked the secret to his longevity. His response was:

“Eat only food that can spoil, and eat it before it does.”

These are two pretty good rules for life.

I find it easier to live by the first than the second. The first is simply undeniable, and not just because I don’t drink beer (at least, not often enough to even consider light). I translate Jackson’s admonition to be: Don’t waste your time with the crap!

For example, somewhere (there’s that memory problem again) I read about Dannon’s Light ‘n Fit yogurt, which is big with the Weight Watchers crowd because it has only 100 calories or something. So I bought a couple and took a spoonful of one…and spit it out. It was only then I noticed it contains aspartame, which is quite possibly one of the clearest signs of the existence of Satan.

Here’s what you do, folks: instead of buying Dannon’s Light ‘n Ucky, buy one of Brown Cow’s Cream Top yogurts. Yes, they have about 220 calories each, and yes, a lot of grams of fat. Ignore that part. Open the yogurt, and just scoop off the stiff, creamy top (hence the name!). Eat. You may want to stop at that point (I have) because eating the rest of the yogurt is almost superfluous after that spoonful or so of cream. Heck of a lot more satisfying than those itty bitty dietetic nonfat things.

Don’t even get me started on Olestra. And reduced fat Oreos. Check out the calorie counts on reduced fat Oreos versus regular ones—best of all would be not to eat them, but if you’re going to eat them, go ahead and eat the right ones.

It’s like drinking Diet Coke: if you give it up for a couple of weeks, you won’t want to drink it any more, because the second you drink it again you notice it tastes like crap. Harmful, yucky, metallic, chemical crap.

The second rule, about eating only fresh food, is tougher for me. It’s easier than it was, of course, because I’m doing a heck of a lot more cooking than I used to—I buy the ingredients, I know what goes into it. But I haven’t yet been bitten by the Cooking Is Wonderful bug: When I cook, I know I’m going to have a lot of pots and pans and dishes to clean up, and my joy in creating something from a pile of food is dimmed oh-so-much.

And I’m always worried about what other eaters (i.e., Darin) might think: do they like it? are they eating it out of politeness?

But I am cooking more. Making a menu for the week helps enormously (she said with an obviousness unparalleled in much of Western literature). And I can hardly plead that I don’t have any inspiration on hand: Darin wuvs to collect cookbooks.

The main ones I use are The Joy of Cooking and Quick and Healthy Vols. I and II. Although I did use Julia’s The Way To Cook last week and a volume of one of Anne Willen’s Look and Cook series (that gigantic row of white books on the third shelf down) the week before that. Darin likes Bobby Flay’s books, but I don’t go near the grill.

I am tied to the cookbook. I check The Joy of Cooking to see how to hardboil an egg. I don’t know why certain dishes need to be cooked at 425 and others at 350. I do not as of yet have an intrinsic “feel” for the kitchen: I never ever think, “Well, since I have these 3 ingredients on hand, I can make such-and-such a dinner.”

Frustration with the fact that the kids usually eat nothing of what I cook has inspired me to go whole-hog (heh) and invite a whole bunch of people over for dinner. The other night Darin grilled a couple of Porterhouse steaks while I made a cheese-and-bacon quiche, broccoli and cauliflower with a Mornay sauce, and salad. We managed to feed us, my brothers-in-law, and one girlfriend-in-law. (Plus the kids who, of course, ate nothing except some of the steak.) The week before that (my birthday) I made sautéed chicken and rice with mushrooms and a few other dishes.

I’m actually kind of interested in arranging a Gourmet Night, since we have so many foodie friends, where each of us makes some dish and puts it all together. That way, we can try out recipes we’ve always wanted to make but don’t want to bother cooking for a small number of people.

(Do parents the world over have this problem getting their children to eat? Sophia used to be quite a good eater, eating broccoli and entire bundles of asparagus and beef bourgignon. Nowadays she only wants mac and cheese or ice cream and whines if she doesn’t get them. My general rule of thumb is this: I will make anything you want for breakfast, and I will make you anything you want for lunch. But I am making only one thing for dinner; you can eat it or not eat it, as you choose, and there will be nothing else.

(So far, Sophia has pretty much skipped dinners. It’s hella frustrating.)

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I have been reading quite a bunch of food-oriented books.

• Fat Land: How Americans Became the Fattest People in the World by Greg Critser

  Critser analyzes why Americans are the fattest people on the planet—his discussion of the history of the two deadliest substances in our diet (high fructose corn syrup and hydrogenated oils) is wonderful. This book definitely pushed me to analyze what was in my food.

• Fast Food Nation: The Dark Side of the All-American Meal by Eric Schlosser

  Errr. Ummm. Well, it’s a damn good thing I don’t care much for fast food to begin with. Now if only I could give up food altogether. (Gulp.)

• The Fat of the Land: Our Health Crisis and How Overweight Americans Can Help Themselves by Michael Fumento

  I first read this book when I was doing the liquid diet. It’s a center-right polemic about why Americans are fat and why they need to do something about it already, sheesh. Fumento is extremely peeved at the “fat power” movement and has no time for the diet industry. Despite the fact that he’s coming after everything with a damn machete, I still find the book very inspirational when it comes to reminding myself to, you know, eat well.

• Last Chance to Eat: The Fate of Taste in a Fast Food World by Gina Mallet

  Mallet combines a memoir about her own history with food and farming and tasting with the current trends of both being afraid of food and consuming vast quantities of substandard food. Each chapter is an examination of a much maligned food—the egg, milk, beef, organic produce, and fish—both in terms of what Mallet remembers about it and what’s become of them today. For example, how fear of raw milk has led to the almost complete disappearance of true Brie cheese. Mallet touts the benefits and tastes of raw milk and points out that pasteurized products have been far, far more deadly to us of late.

  I also recently read about “fresh milk” in On Rue Tatin: Living and Cooking in a French Town by Susan Herrman Loomis—a book about an American food writer who went to live in a French town; it’s part of what I call the “expat” genre, of which I will write another time. So between Gina and Susan I felt I needed to try raw milk out. Turns out Whole Foods carries it, and I bought it. I realize I am not a gifted foodie, because I don’t taste any difference. Maybe it’s just the wholeness of the milk overwhelming me.

  But you really, really, really need to know about the milk drink. Erk. Don’t be drinking a glass of any old stuff if you click on that link.

• The Fat Fallacy: The French Diet Secrets to Permanent Weight Loss by Will Clower

  and

  Joie de Vivre: Simple French Style for Everyday Living by Robert Arbor and Katherine Whiteside

  If you want to be French, these books are the way to go. The Fat Fallacy is a diet book purporting to explain why the French are much thinner than we are: they eat better food and they eat less of it. (Also, they walk a lot.)

  Joie de Vivre made living French sound so attractive I’ve become addicted to buying baguettes. I don’t drink wine any more often, though.

I haven’t had the miracle that The Fat Fallacy says will happen: eat better, lose weight! Of course, I haven’t quite tamed the “eat less” phase. Calories count. You don’t get to opt out of that. Making those calories count, though, seems to be as important!

Now if only I could get a real sense of accomplishment out of feeding my family well!