i present, a well grilled strip of grass-fed bison on a bed of steamed spinach with a sauté of caramelized red onions, golden raisins, granny smith apple and a splash of sherry vinegar. my version of a decadent dinner for the current ’09 regime…

because, here’s the deal. ’08 was quite the interesting and wonderful food odyssey. but when the year shook out, despite my paltry self-thwarted attempts at some kind of balance, i am somehow about 20+ lbs up. not 10. not 15. but 20+. and that is not pretty. not even a little. plus i feel both unhealthy and stupid. and i’d call that a rather pathetic combo.

oprah, how did we let this happen – again?

© Copyright 2006 Kevin Ebi/Living Wilderness.

i feel quite sure that faced with this animal in an uncompromising situation there’d be very little room for understanding or negotiation. bison are like the elephant men of 4 leggeds – WITH a punk hairdo, making them look even that much more disturbing.  (and really, i think they’re pissed about it.) but despite the aesthetics of the beast, i am a fan. and if only a bison’s mother could love the face, then i am content with loving the rest of it’s body. and here’s why…

assuming these numbers were correct, i went ahead and signed up to the tune of 6 filets and 8 ny strips of the grass-fed persuasion. because dear readers, let me share this bit of news with you. the party is OVER. but i’d still like a steak on occasion, and this seems to be a viable way to go. now, is bison akin to a super prime lobel’s steak, dripping with beefy goodness? honestly no, but we both liked the flavor. cooked rare and in all its leanness, it scratched the red meat itch. and i can live with that quite happily, if not smugly.

i’ve been writing this post in my head for weeks now, trying to come up with a way for ceF to continue on while i lean down – without boring you to tears. and i think that really, all i can do is to :

cook dinner
stay within my guidelines
and talk about it

i will admit to you that i feel a bit desperate. i have an entire wardrobe – and it’s a damn fine one, currently unwearable – at least by me. i’ve been relegated to the "stretchy and baggy" section of my closet.  quite frankly, i’m much more than a little embarrassed.

and because i’m now closer to 50 than 40, and because of my (in)activity level, it’s going to take super low calories to get me where i need to be. there are no special diets or pills. no rocket science. no secrets. it’s calories in vs. calories burned. and it’s getting as many nutrients into those calories as you can. which means sugar and fat grams have to stay lower then i like to entertain the thought of…

ok, so that’s where i am. i hope you’ll still stop by while i shift my focus to the leaner side of the food spectrum. obviously the fat epidemic is a national problem and those of us who are affected handle it in different ways. all i know to do is to take it a day at a time and cut back on my caloric intake, try to move more – and breathe deeply.

oh, and to buy a new car. because if i can’t eat pork belly, cheese and chocolate then in the interim i want to ride my fat ass around in some shiny german steel with serious horsepower.

because i am after all, merely a silly little human.

(if i’m going to whine, ice cream is the very least i can offer…)

dear readers…  ceF is 2 days shy of turning one year old and well, i must tell you that as much fun as this is, in the short time that we’ve known each other i have recklessly and pitifully packed on some serious poundage. i have tried to be better about keeping it all in balance, but to date am failing miserably. i have tried to do all the things i know to do. but i am weak in the face of good food. 

to keep us all entertained here, i have been also trying to achieve some semblance of excellence with my cooking. ok, maybe excellence is going too far. but i am aiming high, and honestly, most of the time we’re eating pretty well here at kitchen central. but i’ve still got a lot to learn, and that means practice. and repetition. using it or losing it. and this tends to involve churning out a fair amount of food if you ever want to call yourself a cook.  and i aspire to that…

right now i’m in santa monica for 3 weeks. and guess what? i’m not going to any great restaurants or cooking. i’m in semi-radical cleansing mode drinking fresh juices and eating fruit and plain salads. as in vegan raw without the frills of nuts or seeds or oil or seasonings of any kind.  as in yes, you’re right this is not easy – and no, i don’t recommend you do this.  unless you want to. which you probably don’t. and man, i so do not blame you. because if i could find a way to eat the way i wanted to eat all the time, and not look and feel toxic, i’d be all over it.  you see, i am the quintessential plate cleaner. i love to eat and i can pack it away but good.  but i am terribly vain – and that’s a tricky combo to balance. so here i am – paying for my salty high-caloric intake.  because the fat lady has sung and it’s time to pay the piper. 

interestingly enough, the older i get the more he charges – the little flute playing bastard…

but to keep the blog fires burning, i have a few things that i recently whipped up and then stockpiled, knowing i’d be away from the kitchen.  and this is one of them.  fresh mint custard ice cream with pralus 75% chocolate.  i used david lebovitz’s recipe for the ice cream, always adding an extra egg yolk as a sacrifice to whatever god that thomas keller worships (i do believe he uses up to 12 yolks in his ice creams).  and then i went a little too heavy on the chocolate because well, one bar is 3.5 ounces and david calls for about 5 ounces (i don’t have the book with me) and i think i may have used over 1 1/2 bars.  but next time i think i’d stick to the one, as that’d be plenty. this batch was a bit heavy on the chocolate. not that it’d hurt your feelings, because the chocolate is so spectacular and plays well off the minty custard…  but still, live and learn.

the fresh mint is steeped in the warm milk/cream mixture and then the custard is made and chilled. to make the stracciatella, you add the melted chocolate in a steady stream at the very end of the churning process, keeping the chocolate away from mixing blade.  being a stracciatella making virgin, i did a so-so job… but it was really very, very awfully good. and i guess one day i will have to try again. and again. but not for a little while.

my inner child had hoped for the ice cream to be a bit on the greener side - but when thinking about the steeping/straining process, it seemed unlikely that the leaves would give up much color. but david had promised an emerald hue and dear readers, that just was not happening. also and for the record, i’m not a huge mint fan. and now i know why. because most mint things that we buy are made with some kind of extract that is way not my thing. this ice cream was minty, but subtle. it tasted real, because it was.

and i’ll be posting here and there, but for now, i’ve gone west to where the ‘beautiful people’ are. to where you are pretty much always – comparatively speaking (to like, anywhere) - too fat, too old and too poor.  i kind of never "got" LA but i want to.  and i am willing to love LA – if it will let me.  i will hang by the beach and soak up the califiornia vibe and then i am back to nashville for a night, only to take off the next day to nyc to do my usual thing – which totally revolves around food.  and as one might imagine based on my last trip home, i am still going to dine quite well. and so this is when i will get to practice balance. and then i get to practice even more balance a week later in chicago at alinea and trotter’s.

so, it’s looking like if all goes well i will be one helluva balanced woman come july.  and then i will throw a party and invite you and i will make this mint stracciatella for everyone and only eat one scoop.

which brings us back to all of you summer loving, ice cream eating people out there.  why not go and make yourself this minty custardy ice cream?  it is truly wonderful.  the recipe is in david’s book and if you’re an ice cream aficionado and don’t own it, i urge you to get it.

and oh by the way – if there is a next life? 

i am so coming back as a person with the metabolism of a hummingbird…

(photo by gravityx9)

look, no one likes a whiner… and especially when what they’re whining about is totally self induced. so i’ll just keep this short and fat. whoa! did i just say that? a freudian slip of the overactive tongue? hey, speaking of tongues, when i come back in another life – i definitely wanna be my tongue. or my cats. because they are both incredibly spoiled. (clarification – i’m talking the entire cat.) i’ve been eating way too much rich food and i don’t feel very sparky on the inside and quite frankly, i’m not looking my shiniest either. so i am taking a little break from eating much of anything at all. i’m sticking to fruit for a few days, and giving my liver a hiatus from the excesses of too much fat and wine. my body needs some good lovin’ of the healthy kind. and really, it’s the very least i could do for it – after all it does for me… but i happen to have some stockpiled dishes that i’ve recently made and i’m posting about one of them tonight so be prepared because i am ready to hit you with quite the doozy. and then there’s a cake. and also something really freakin’ weird. and by then i might be ok again. so this is the buddha telling me to keep that mouth of mine shut while still remaining exquisitely and supremely happy. good advice on many levels…

first of all, let me get this out of the way. 

nablopomo? 
just nablowme, ok? 

phew. now that’s crossed off my list.

our friends just built an amazing home that’s not quite finished – but close.  the kitchen and bathrooms are fully operational so they brought over all their outdoor furniture and we dined bistro style by the fireplace in the otherwise empty house.  it was perfect.

so besides the great dinner and spending time with people i love, my favorite part of thanksgiving is that whole ‘stopping for a minute and giving thanks’ thing.  and so when we all joined hands and closed our eyes to share the gratitude aloud, our grace was nicely capped with an “amen, hallelujah and bon appétit”.  personally, i got a kick out of that.

here’s a teaser photo of our unique turkey scenario.  more on this to come.

as i write it’s past 10 pm and today i have fasted.  just some tea with a bit of agave.  i’ve not eaten one single thing.  i’m quite sure that yesterday i ate enough calories for 2 days easily so i am just going to level out here.  regroup.  i’ve managed to successfully side step the leftovers.  no turkey sandwich with russian dressing for me.  i barely entered the kitchen. 

the turkey stock can wait a day or two, ok michael?

but i am considering a longer fast.  like a 2 or 3 weeker.  like a ‘no food’ kinda fast - just some fresh squeezed juice.  i’ve done it before, but never as a food blogger.  we’ll see what i do. 

anyway, drastic times call for drastic measures…

…and the other reason i hate halloween is that when your boyfriend’s kid comes over for the entire weekend and brings her entire huge bag of candy with her, you eat entirely way too much milk chocolate – which isn’t even your thing.  and then you wake up on sunday morning feeling and looking like hell from a hefty fat and sugar hangover.

not that you were feeling and looking so fabulous on let’s say, even friday morning…

because it’s never the one lost hershey weekend, or the occasional over the top decadent evening with friends.  it’s the long, long line of pasta dinners and buttered bread and throwing all dessert caution to the wind during an already calorie laden restaurant dinner.  it’s cracker barrel on a road trip and sampling your way through costco or whole foods.  it’s forgetting whose body you reside in and then eating the way that does you no good.  it’s living to eat – which i do.   and i am (still) packing on the lbs. 

and i have no excuse.  i am weak in the face of food and the food is winning.  this round…

sometimes for stretches, i can do really well.  i am mindful of every bite.  i even go so far as to write it all down in my ‘diet’ computer program and watch it count my every carb/protein/fat gram.  and you know?  when i do that?  it really helps me to stay in my jeans. 

i am so not in my jeans. 
my big jeans?  
not in ‘em.

and even now, as a rule - halloween aside - i don’t eat any ‘junk’.  i don’t eat fast food, or greasy chinese, or fatty mediocre mexican.  i hardly ever indulge in pizza.  i don’t grab food on the run.  i don’t drink sugary drinks, or snack-on cookies or chips.  i never have ice cream in the house.  i don’t even allow a bag of bagels to cross the threshold.  all. way. too. dangerous. 

and still i am, for me, fat.  again.  so not good. well, worse than that, really. because somehow it is my weirdo kinda normal to gain-lose, and then gain-lose 25 lbs. in one year.

so here and now i am pledging that starting this sunday i am on a new plan.  i am measuring and counting my intake.  i am juicing.  and eating lots of oatmeal.  i will go to bed hungry every night.  i like that feeling.  that empty clean feeling. 

and i will blog about it, and cook some great and mindful food – and hope that you check in.  it’s not exactly the season to watch the scales go down.  but this is my plan and i’m sticking to it.

but i still have 5 days before i go under!  and wednesday night is bottarga 201!

stay tuned… 

(lardo di colonnata from tuscany)

i try to keep these FRET’s to a minimum but the truth is that if you knew how much of my life this fretting thing consumes you’d probably find me to be kinda screwed up and possibly wouldn’t like me anymore.  assuming of course, you ever liked me at all.

i’m one of those folks that can pack on fat – and quickly.  to stay at a reasonable weight i need to eat very little.  my body operates best on small amounts of very clean food.  i’m sure this is a human condition – but look, some of you are just luckier in this department and can get away with more.  like my guy, which is the one reason to sometimes resent him.  not that he doesn’t watch it and obsessively weigh himself daily.  but he has a lot more wiggle room when it comes to ordering dessert than i do…

the curse runs rampant through my family.  and it’s all due to what i’d easily call a rather sick relationship with food.  it is a true addiction and it’s been passed down through generations.  not only are we plate cleaners but we do it with such flourish as not to leave a morsel from our second helpings.

cut to one of my favorite jewish jokes:  mrs. goldstein is talking to her friend mrs. greenberg about a restaurant she ate in the night before.  her comment - ”the food was absolutely horrible, and the portions were sooooo small…”

that about sums up how i was raised.

and i could write the book.  how to eat, what to eat – every tip, every in-the-know way to get/stay lean.  i have done it all.  and more.  seriously.  no really really.  i win in this category.  really.

but with all i ‘know’ -  it’s pretty much all in the ‘doing’.  and i am inconsistent, to say the very least and i am ashamed of myself for being so weak in the presence of food.  i wake up panicked – literally i open my eyes and think – “oh no” as i envision the great clothes hanging in my closet, and my selection growing smaller as my waistline expands.

the biking helps on so many levels.  but unless you’re lance armstrong and on the bike for hours, burning through every calorie, it’s not the exercise that will ultimately slim you down. it’s the reduction of those calories.  it’s pretty simple math.

i’ve always had this dream that lying would make you fat – not fettucine alfredo…

i try not to fret. but i do and it’s a long list why – some of which is ridiculously unfounded, some i’m sure comes from deeply ingrained childhood stuff (got an hour?) and some is just a part of living on this earth and being human. and well, obviously not a very good buddhist.

i fret less when i’ve been on the bike. and this is now the end of week 3, back on after what became over a 3 week hiatus. i’m hitting it hard but i’m not nearly as fit as i was back in the spring. i’m slower most likely because sadly there’s more weight to move. a solid 10 lbs makes a big diff. but the riding helps my head, this much i know. and i feel more powerful – more alive. it’s also one less thing to beat myself up about, one less thing in the “i know i should be doing this and i’m not” category. and i can’t break my current stride because if i do – it’ll be too damn hard to start up – again. so until it gets out and out chilly, my ass is on that bike. and that’s just the way it’s gotta be.

but hey! guess what? i’m heading home to nyc next week.

cary has his kids for 9 days starting this evening and i decided to get outa dodge for a portion of that program. i’ll see everyone through the bulk of next week with school drop-offs and pick-ups and soccer games and track meets and dinners. and then thursday afternoon, i fly.

anyway, i need a haircut. it’s like i’ve suddenly got the mermaid look which is a direct result of not getting my hair cut due to the fear of being temporarily ruined (again) by a nashville stylist. my last trip to ny was back in may and i decided to wait because well, with a great nyc haircut comes nyc prices and if i told you what a cut and color run using my team of guys – well, you’d choke ever so slightly on whatever fabulous thing you’re eating – and rightly so.

and i get to ride a bike in central park for a few glorious mornings which is one of my favorite things to do in the world. it’s a 6 mile loop with a killer hill up by harlem that burns off the sins of whatever restaurant i ate in the night before. but it’s a beautiful way to spend a morning. god i love nyc…

oh. and i need a great meal – or three. so many of the bloggers out there that i adore are in nyc or thereabouts. so i’d love to hear where you’re eating these days. i know that one night i’m goin to ‘lavagna‘ on east 5th. and i’m really wanting to check out ‘prune‘. and as much as i loved ‘babbo‘ and i want to go back, it’s a reservation nightmare. although i know i can go and wait for an open table…

and most importantly i get to spend time with my mom. she is the quintessential ny woman in oh so many ways. and i get to hang out a little with my best friend yve – a role we’ve played together for 35 years. just typing that number is kinda freaky because taking it all into consideration we look pretty damn good and are uber cool for 46 year old women.

just ask us we’ll tell you…

for awhile there i was feeling as though inertia was the only thing keeping me moving at all…

after a 24 day hiatus from the bike, i am back.  and as much as i don’t particularly care for the early start time – when i’m finished,

i  am  so  damn  glad  that  i  did  it  you  have  no  idea  …

oh, you do?  this is your story too?  no kidding!  i just figured it was me.

so i’m on target to ride a minimum of 4x a week.  yesterday morning’s ride clocked in at 48:52.  my best time is 40:34, so i’ve a ways to go to get my time back down.  but in a week or so i will feel more powerful, i will have a slight glow, my psyche will be more peaceful - and i will (please god) even eat lighter.  because i’ll have entered that ever evasive ‘zone’.

and in a few weeks perhaps i will no longer fear the second number of that evil triple digit summation that leers from the rigid plate that i so gingerly step upon.

oh the drama…

(update – my ride this morning - 46:38)

not much change on the weight front.  still 10 lbs. over.  and it’s summer.  aren’t we supposed to be eating lighter, shouldn’t we be being more active, behaving more – well, summery?  like those people who insist they can’t eat when it’s so hot.  i hate those people.

but today it was 100 again.  and tomorrow they’re calling for 103 and i just can’t hang outside.  it’s friggin oxygenless because not only is it hot, it’s hot and humid – and after an hour or so in the heat i just want to go and crash.  this heat zaps me but good.

and i’m not riding my bike like i should be.  and i really should be.  seriously.  i should be waking up at 6am to get out there at 7am at the very latest – beating the heat.  but see, that’s the problem with not having a schedule… i’m becoming a little lazy.  

but oh how i love to busy myself in the kitchen or hang out on the computer – while i talk on the phone to my best friend in ny – with ’ellen’ on in the background.  yes, i am a multi-tasking fool.  but honestly, this life of mine has been freaking me out lately.  i’ve literally been getting panic attacks, feeling just a tad too self absorbed for my conscience to swallow.  can a conscience swallow?  hey, let me google it and find out – that should kill an hour or so…

so what happened was that after my chicago chowdown i literally had nothing but fresh fruit for 3 solid days and i was starting to feel human again.  then the weekend came and we had a wonderful dinner each night but i stuck to my fruit only policy during the day.  but then sunday came and there were these sweet potato pancakes for breakfast – so good - and then i baked.  i’m not supposed to bake, remember?  baking = trouble.  and then yesterday was monday, the perfect day to start anew… and well, have you ever had a babybel gouda cheese discy thing sprinkled with truffle salt melted between two corn tortilla’s and grilled to crispy lovliness?  me neither. until yesterday.  actually, i might be the first person to ever have eaten that… wow, what a concept.  and you know, it was kinda very good… not that i’m encouraging you to make this – at all.  i was just really hungry and acting quickly.

so today brings the dawn of a new day and here i am up at 5 am – fretting about my weight again and talking to you…

it’s the last day of july and quite frankly it’s been an eating frenzy around here.  between the new blog, two summer excursions, celebrating both our birthdays and a 9 day stretch with my guy’s kids – well, i’ve been bad – very bad.

now i’m not making any excuses.  it’s all me – and my lack of discipline.  and although i ride that cycle of mine, i’m not super active and my body requires very little food.  unfortunately my brain seems to require quite a bit if food.  and i truly love to cook.  so it’s a slippery slope of which i spend quite a bit of time on my fat ass.

i’m up, i’m down, i’m up, i’m down… i’m up.

the scale sits on my bathroom floor, daring me to step up and be counted.  so as a guilty man with the fear of god in his soul must put his hand upon a bible in a courtroom and confess, i too do the same.  only here the evidence beeps 3 times and with my head hanging down in both disgust and fear, the 3 digits blare the ugly truth.  the sentence has been delivered.  restrict your calories for a minimum of two weeks.  or else.

and it’s a big ‘here we go again’ as i am a repeat offender.