embracing the nut sac

And you thought this post was going to be a lexicon on how to prepare the perfect mt. oysters, right? Tricked you!

I'm about to launch into a smallish tirade on Big Food (cousin to Big Pharma). And I say smallish because, try as I might, I can never muster the true spirit of zealotry. I mean, part of my livelihood comes from writing copy and managing the social media needs of a reasonably large food company. So, no, I don't want to turn back the hands of time and go back to the days of butcher, baker, candlestick-maker completely. I just want to be more mindful of options when it comes to nourishing myself and the fam, and stay on top of those big words that you find on food labels.

Okay, so tirade.

In an effort to cut down on dairy (because fat, and because lactose intolerance), the husband and I use soy and/or almond milk (we still buy cow's milk for the boy, and his bones are mighty strong). But after poring over the label of almond milk we purchase by the case from the daddy of oppressive Big Food, Costco, I was surprised to see all the stuff in the product.

Upon further research on the most controversial ingredient, carrageenan, and noting that both Kirk and I are prone to stomach aches that mystify us, I bought us a nut sac. (Okay, they're really called nut milk bags. For obvious reasons.)

And then, of course, you have to buy the organic almonds rather than the regular almonds. Yes, they're twice as expensive, but you don't want to titrate herbicides into your homemade almond milk, right?

It really isn't that big a deal to make your own almond milk. Swear. It's just one of those "thinking ahead" things. Like soaking dried beans overnight. Because that's what you have to do. Soak the almonds in water for eight or so hours.

Next step is, rinse them and then blend them up with water and a half tsp or so of vanilla, maybe a few dates if you want to sweeten it a little. 4-1 water/nuts. Then, get out your giant mason jar, fit the nut sac inside of it. Fasten a rubber band around the rim, and pour your concoction in the bag.

In a few minutes you'll have pretty damn delicious almond milk. (Especially if you live in the Portland area and get fantastic, pure water out of the tap.)

So. What to do with the almond nut meal that's leftover? Well, if you have backyard chickens, they love it! But I also made this cake with it, and it seems to have passed the "potluck" test - just this little piece was left over! Here's the recipe for it (caveat - I'm a bit clumsy with recipes: never truly measuring anything, but I think this is pretty accurate.)

NUTMEAL BANANA CAKE

• 2 cups almond meal pulp
• 1/2 cup rice flour
• 1/2 tsp Xantham gum (I use Bob's Red Mill)
• 1 Tbsp cinnamon
• pinch of salt

• 2 eggs
• 2 ripe bananas
• 1 Tbsp Canola oil
• (dark chocolate for topping, if desired)

_____________________________

• preheat oven to 350
• Mix dry ingredients in small bowl
• Mash up banana in big bowl, add eggs and oil and mix well
• Combine dry with wet

Pour into nonstick bunt cake pan and bake for 25 minutes or until toothpick comes out clean.
After it cools, remove cake from pan. Just before serving, double-boil some dark chocolate to drizzle over the top. You can get 12 servings from this, at 120 calories a serving.

Okay, so here is a menu for tomorrow's clean eating, in case you want one:

BREAKFAST
granola/almond milk/berries

LUNCH
salad greens with feta and tuna
piece of almond meal cake

DINNER
pasta (try the quinoa pasta, for kicks!)
tomato meat (ground boar, perhaps? or turkey?) sauce (add sautéed onions and peppers to jarred tomato sauce)
green salad

climbing on the wagon

snap of the ghost of Christmas Present from the Goodman Theatre's production of A Christmas Carol

It's that time of year again. Where "Let's Talk About Writing" becomes "Let's Talk About Eating."

I outdid myself this holiday season, in terms of cookie, chocolate and alcohol consumption. In my mind, I resemble the Ghost of Christmas Present in "A Christmas Carol." Everything inflamed and larger than it should be. My stomach gurgling and hurting. My skin blotchy. I picture my liver being blown up by a ball pump. And the vessels in my heart choked and lined with fat. The bad fat. You know, LDL and whatnot.

I know what to do. Of course I do. I have a 80thousand dollar education from Syracuse University to prove it. A diploma somewhere in storage claiming I have a BS in dietetics. I know that fad diets are lame and losing weight fast is stupid and unsustainable, and that there is no fountain of youth. I also know better than to cram my face with peppermint patties, almond roca and figgy pudding. And yet, each year, I eat like a pig for a month, washing it all down with gin and red wine - sometimes both in one sitting. Fa la la la burp la.

It's no secret that we tend to eat three times the calories we normally do in the five weeks or so between Thanksgiving and New Year's. Booze, bon-bons, crème brûlée. Champagne, cheese, chocolate. In that cold, dark month, we Americans pile on as many calories as we do from June to October. And we exercise half as much. Wonder why we tend to feel like shit on December 30th? And guess what? We still have a week's worth of parties to attend! I'm all about The Royal We here, because, obvi - 'tis the season of the diet book. A whole shitload of them pubbed today as a matter of fact. Here are a few:

The Zero Belly Diet
The Burn: Why Your Scale is Stuck and What to Do About It
Supermarket Healthy
The DASH Diet Younger You

Of the above books, I recommend the DASH one. And it's probably my frame of reference, coming from a clinical dietetics background, but this book includes some of the latest academic information backed by actual scientific research. I'm a snob about that stuff. So shoot me. There's another book I like too - and it has a similarly unfortunate "snake oily" title: 7 Years Younger: The Anti-Aging Breakthrough Diet. I am gleaning stuff from both those books, and making my lists, checking them twice.

With a caveat.

The thing about any prescriptive book for creative types? We have a hard time following directions. Guilty as charged. For instance, I'm not going to eat oatmeal. My loving husband does. Every single morning. I hate oatmeal. Unless you put lots and lots of butter and brown sugar in it. Period. Also, low fat cheese. What's the fucking point of low fat cheese? I say, eat half the amount of regular cheese. Plus, no way am I giving up coffee. I am giving up booze though. For a month - then adding it back in judiciously. Also, limiting sugar with a goal to wean myself off of it 90% of the time.

So, upstart that I am, I've developed my own version of a diet, stealing a lot from the aforementioned books. It's anti-inflamatoryish, balanced as far as the carb/protein/fat thing goes and it's between 1400 and 1500 calories, so it's reasonable. As far as writing things down? I have the apps. A really good one is My Fitness Pal, and an even better one is Fooducate. MFP is free, and the bells and whistles Fooducate one costs a few bucks a month. They're helpful to track the calories in/calories out thing, but the best way to get on the healthy eating wagon after a period of over-indulgence is to plan ahead. Buy the groceries, plan out the menus, know what you're going to eat at the start of the day.

So, guys, here's how I'm going to do it. I'm going to post my "menus" every day and my "shopping lists" once a week. Here on the blog. Staring tomorrow, New Year's Eve, until January 30th (at which point I'm off on a week long holiday with some fabulous gal pals, and yes, I will eat, drink and be merry - but hopefully, somewhat healthily, too).

Wanna join me? No pressure. Only that tight waistband.

chop kale, filter water: the midterm report

I'm more than halfway through. I have eight more days, to be exact. I'm already fantasizing the perfect post-cleanse first meal (like the Last Supper, but in reverse). Bagels and lox will be involved.

I've learned a bunch of crap about myself during this process, but the number one thing I learned? I have a facility for shortcuts. Okay, I'm lazy. If I have one fabulous talent, it's figuring out how to crawl really close to the edge of not doing something but still do it. If I were a Nike tagline I'd be, "Just fudge it."

Thank God I live in Portland, is all I have to say. The land of myriad health food stores, gluten-free start-ups, carts that serve raw food. I discovered a frozen bread yesterday that's made from rice flour and sunflower oil and sea salt. A salad dressing that's olive oil and organic blueberries and balsamic vinegar. A cafe with non-soy vegan soup. But still, I'm cleaning out the juicer, chopping the fennel, and soaking the raw cashews. In filtered water. For two hours.

Ok, the deets since last we spoke. Still the same on the tmi front. Mucus and other bodily unpleasantries continue to diminish. I feel lighter. I am lighter (7 or 8 pounds). And I no longer have the caffeine withdrawal headaches. And about four days ago my energy came back. Finally! Oh, and my blood pressure went down 10 diastolic points (and 20 systolic). I'm now "normal." Yay!

But I miss eating like a normal person. There, I said it. I miss stuffing chocolate in my face, sipping an espresso tinged with brown sugar, the chili-cheese fries at Meadows after a morning on the slopes. And don't get me started on how much I miss cocktails!

Okay, do get me started, because I need to confess my one big, fat "off the wagon" moment last Friday.

I had a glass of cabernet. One glass. And I stretched it out for 45 minutes, lingering in its warmth and embrace like a starved sailor does a whore. I noted all those hifalutin descriptors on fancy bottles of wine: crisp, earthy, fleshy, varietal, herbaceous, oaky, nervy, mid-palate, peak.

All was well until I started eyeing my son's hamburger. And his potato chips. And his Shirley Temple.

And the next morning I felt like total shit. Bloaty, head-achy, lardassy, all of that. I punished myself by cramming an entire bundle of lacinato kale down the juicer chute, and following it with a chaser of bok choy.

Yes, I know. This sounds very eating disorderish. I admit, I wonder about the psychological jostling that occurs with "cleanses" generally. Viewing most Western food as poison. The eschewing of this, that and the other. My husband keeps asking what I'm going to continue to avoid once I'm "clean." Probably dairy, if I had to pick one thing (there goes the bagel/lox thing, 'cause I'm not spreading hummus on it). I'll try to limit coffee. Less booze. Less bread. Less bacon. I've developed a fondness for fennel. I'm way more into carrots than ever before. But please, don't take away my chocolate on a permanent basis. I think a life without chocolate would be like walking around in a burlap sack.

Any of you have fucked up fad diet stories to share? Or even successful fad diet ones?