Archive for July, 2009
Being a fatgirl for most of my life (since age 4, I surmise), I go on the assumption that the way I eat is the way most people eat: fingers out of the way, all hands on deck.
Before you think I just slap my face around a trough at mealtime (oink! more corn, please!), I need to explain where this thought came from.
My little bro had heart surgery yesterday (by little, I mean 30, but a little bro will always be a little bro) so today I hung out in his room while he rested with his wonderful pain med drip. In the room, there’s one small window that overlooks the vestibule of the heart hospital. It also looks into the waiting area of families awaiting news on other heart surgeries. While I watched, a woman (my age) and a man I figure was her dad sat down with a paper sack full of lunch between them. She had something–I couldn’t voyeur that far, (love people watching behind shaded glass~) but he had a sandwich and a Frosty. And a book.
Mind you, this was around 3pm. I’d had a bowl of Fruity Pebbles around8 this morning, so I was a wee bit hungry. Some people watch Playboy, I watch food court. As I watched him eat (after pouring the entire salt packet on his sandwich….in a heart hospital….ugh), I realized something. Five minutes later, he was still eating. And reading. And chewing.
I think he’d taken like three bites in that five minutes. In the same time span, I could have eating his sandwich, fries, frosty and have been in line for something else. He wasn’t paying a whit of attention to his food. Rather, he was engrossed in his book.
For some reason, this made me reflect on how I eat. For me,there’s some type of unbreakable laser-like spell with any type of food in the vicinity. And not in a good way. If you ever watch Cesar on the Dog Whisperer, it’s like when the dogs get so fixated on another dog, or a rabbit or a person and can’t see anything else in the universe except that thing–until Cesar breaks the spell. (Poke me in the ribs, Cesar, and see if I stop eating). It really is scary to be food in my presence. There is no cease fire.
But this guy…he ate about half the sandwich then proceeded to wrap up the rest and toss it out. I like to think it was the massive sodium content, but after watching him eat two bites of his Frosty, read for five minutes and eat two more bites, I realized the real deal–the man is not stark raving mad around food. He enjoyed his lunch, ate til he was (presumably) full and enjoyed his dessert. I imagined myself with a Frosty–no one gets near it til it’s gone.
This made me very aware of how I eat, and I tried carrying over those thoughts (shameful, if truth be told) through dinner. I ate slower, tried to enjoy my food without dying to scarf it down. It was nice. I don’t know if it will last but I keep reminding myself that his slowness and enjoying the food vs. my maniacal food attacks are probably why he was skinny as a beanpole and I’m as fat as a tomato.
7-6-09, Monday
8:47 am
B.R. Park
20′08
17:46 min/mi
1.13 miles
190 calories
Pre-jog thoughts: Wanted to jog in my head, body not so convinced. But as soon as I hit the path, I get jumpy and ready to run. That’s a good thing.
Jog thoughts: The bitch on the iPod was mysteriously absent until the last five minutes. Figured she’d leave me hanging when I needed her most. I need her to mark my spots on the run with her cheery “5 minutes completed”. I managed pretty good, but I’m going to have to figure out how to get her to follow me on every run. Maybe I should bring her a donut or two…
Post Jog: Really happy to be jogging again. WHAT? Yeah. I’m afraid to admit it out of fear of jinxing myself, but I do feel so much better after jogging.
What I Noticed: When I started my run, I was in a pissy mood. When I finished, I was physically spent, but felt like I’d cracked through a shell and emerged a new person. I like jogging because it gives me that feeling every day.
First time for…not feeling my lungs would burst at the end. Progress, progress.
7-1-09, Weds.
10:42 am
B.R. Park
20′09
17:32 min/mi
1.14 miles
193 calories
Pre-jog thoughts: I was ready for the 20 minute contiuum. Jogging Monday made me feel ready to jog today. I don’t know that I can beat my old time, but I’ll give it a try.
Jog thoughts: I ran, as usual, but when my iPod friend told me I had one minute left, I felt possessed to blow her away. I picked up the pace and made my best time (and calorie count) ever. I figure if I keep jogging the same way, nothing much will change. Like the number on the scale.
Post Jog: Sucked wind. Felt good.
What I Noticed: I didn’t notice much about the jog. What I noticed came when in front of the mirror before a shower. Walking by the mirror, I caught a glimpse of something I haven’t seen in years, possibly decades: My butt. Well, allow me to clarify. I have a butt, plenty of one in fact. The square footage of my behind rivals the land holdings of some third world countries. Unlike those countries, there’s been no real deliniation between the butt & thigh.
No more unibutt! I have the slightest bit of definition on the behind that separates the two regions so they can duly be noted on the next update of the world map. Now that’s progress. I don’t care what the scale says.
First time for…actually admiring myself in a mirror. I’m not getting too carried away, but it is a nice change.
6-29-09, Monday.
8:47 am
B.R. Park
20′14
17:58 min/mi
1.13 miles
189 calories
Pre-jog thoughts: I can’t believe my class reunion is over. You know, I weighed myself once near the start of June–and had lost nothing. Total bullshit. I vowed not to weigh myself again. Ever. We still had fun, but I need to burn off some of those extra calories from mom’s.
Jog thoughts: Excited to jog. I feel so much better following every run. That in itself scares me. To death.
I didn’t feel like I’d smash any records, but I promised myself I’d not walk. Even if it took me 12 hours to finish, I was jogging the whole way.
Post Jog: Shocked as heck that I broke my last record. Shocked.
What I Noticed: The hills aren’t as intimidating now as they were when I started. I read advice in a runner’s magazine (I didn’t just buy it for the pictures) that suggested not looking ahead on hills, but focus on the bit of road just beyond your toes. Worked for me. Of course, my calves didn’t follow that advice and still know the hills are hills.
I’m a whiz in the kitchen. I’ve been reading cookbooks since the age of 5, possibly even the age of 4 when mom got me & my sister the Disney Party Cookbook (why wouldn’t she let me broil the bacon-wrapped hot dogs? I’m still battling that demon). I have my favorites but have been known to go on binges at B&N totalling in the hundreds when there’s a particular display of pretty kitchen guides.
There’s only one thing that scares me in the kitchen: breads. Not quickbreads…I can whip out a cranberry orange rosemary loaf faster than you can butter a loaf pan, but real bread with real kneading and…gasp!…real yeast does a number to my self-confidence between the stove & sink.
So, my purchase from the Cookbook of the Month club a few years back of the Bread Bible probably wasn’t one of my smarter investments. I’ve read it with a loving fear, kind of like when I read IT in 5th grade only during true daylight hours (and still cried at lunchtime because I didn’t want to walk home for lunch because I had to pass storm drains). These breads are gorgeous, amazing and delicious.
And impossible.
Two days ago, stumped for a dinner plan, I got the brilliant idea of slicing up banana peppers from our garden, sauteing them to a crisp (technically frying) and layering them on a focaccia crust (from a tube) for a simple veggie-ish pizza.
Brilliant with the exception of no focaccia in a tube. I didn’t feel like running to the store, and I recalled a recipe for focaccia in the Bread Bible that promised me it was easy and required no kneading.
I’m not an idiot: I had a backup plan (pizza place number and a coupon) but thought I’d give focaccia a whirl (literally–it’s a soupy yeast dough you make with a MIXER! Who knew?!).
Long story short? We’ve had focaccia two, going on three, nights. And everyone (still) loves it.
The only thing easier than making focaccia is driving thru for donuts. Really. Here’s the recipe (shorthand version, courtesy of The Bread Bible)
2&3/4 cup unbleached flour
3/8 t. yeast (I go with 1/2 t. because they don’t make a 3/8 teaspoon. And I don’t do fractions. At all.)
Whisk together in a Kitchen Aid mixer briefly to incorporate. Slowly pour in room-temp water, 2 cups minus 2T. It’ll be soupy but it’s supposed to be. Don’t get scared that you’re making paper mache paste. I promise, it will work.
Leave this on about 4 or 5 speed for about 20 minutes. Cookbook says 20, it’s been more like 25 for me. Through the magic of cooking, the soup will come together in a ball-ish form, somewhat like melted mozzerella. When it starts creeping up the paddle like kudzu gone crazy, add:
3/4 t. sugar
3/4 t. salt
and let it mix for a few minutes. While that’s going on, grease a big bowl and have plastic wrap ready.
Scrape the dough into the bowl, cover with plastic wrap and put it somewhere moderately warm (I just tucked it into the microwave) for 5 hours.
Yes, 5 hours. When I go back to the classroom in the fall, I’ll make this before I leave in the AM and take it out to bake when I get home in the PM. Yes, my family will still be wanting focaccia then.
Make sure you mark on the bowl (or eyeball) where the dough should be when it has risen to 2x its original volume.
In about 5 hours, seriously lube up a sheet pan with olive oil. Don’t scrimp–this stuff will stick like crazyglue to your pan in any spot where it isn’t lubed up. Trust me. Dump out the dough, stretch it good but gently to get it to fill the pan. Let it sit for about ten minutes, then stretch again. Letting it relax a bit makes it go into corners easier (kind of like people drinking at a party).
If it’s still being a bitch, let it rest 10 more minutes and try again. Then drizzle it with olive oil and cover with more plastic wrap. Back into the warm place for another hour.
After 30 minutes, preheat your oven. The book says 475F, I went with 500 on my convection oven. I want that sucker hot and crispy.
An hour after you put it in, check to see if it’s doubled again (mine didn’t double again last night, but it was still perfect), take it out, take off the plastic and sprinkle with whatever herbs you like. I just did dill, salt and fresh pepper last night. Make dimples with your fingers and add more olive oil if you like, then toss it in the oven for about 10-12 minutes. Keep a close eye on it, though. You want bread, not charcoal.
When I used this as pizza dough, the boys clamored for leftovers. They never clamor for anything, especially leftovers, so I took it as a sign that focaccia should be at every meal. Just trying to figure out how to get it out on my 4th of July holiday spread…