Dinner with Julie

Hummus in the car and a Burger at the Chateau

I ordered a salad instead of fries – honest.

The day started healthily enough – I pawned off the rest of the buttermilk pie on our neighbour before heading up to Lake Louise for the Ski for Heart event – a fundraiser for the Alberta Heart & Stroke Foundation – with enough well-thought-out rations in the car to keep us sated for a week had we ended up in a snowbank.

I made hummus (it was supposed to be green pea hummus – add about a cup of thawed frozen peas to your usual hummus mixture – but we were out) with toasted whole wheat pitas, and a banana loaf loaded with flax and a handful of raisins. One of the most important weight-loss lessons I’ve learned was from Girl Guides: Be Prepared.

But by dinnertime we had enough snacks and the boys were tired an needed a regular meal. I had an event at 6, so we ordered room service (cheaper than most in-hotel restaurants anyway, and W could have the run of the room). Honestly – we were just going for bang for our buck here. I adore the Chateau Lake Louise, but the food is pricey, and the Gouda burger was a steal at $17. I truly did order it with a salad, and it arrived with fries. Not my fault. The burger was spectacular. Totally worth every bite. We shared it, on the white-clothed table they rolled into our room with china and flowers, along with a 10″ thin crust pizza, saving a couple slices in the mini bar fridge for tomorrow. So between the three of us, portions were under control. And we ate pears for dessert, and drank water. And I didn’t even say to myself, self – you had burger and pizza anyway, you might as well have some of Mike’s chocolate stash and then really hunker down tomorrow. Or rather I did, but just didn’t listen.

I am not a believer in the concept of cheating in relation to food – there is nothing good that can come of it. How do you feel about yourself when you cheat? Terrible. Guilty. Small (and not in a good way). Guilt is a terrible motivator, and sets you up to believe you are weak-willed and incapable of accomplishing exactly what it is you’ve set out to accomplish. I reminded myself of this for years before I cut myself some slack, and it made all the difference. Rather than berate myself for my obvious lack of willpower (another word I have come to strongly dislike) I find it somehow makes it easier to acknowledge how difficult it is. There is nothing more natural than to get hungry and crave food – particularly high fat, high sugar, high calorie, tasty food. Do we feel guilty about feeling tired and giving in to sleep? Being hungry and loving to eat is not a character flaw.

I’m sorry I haven’t exactly been forthcoming with the healthy recipes yet this year.

And I think if I am going to do this right I should get over mydamnself and give up some numbers already. I might have been procrastinating until after I lose a few pounds. (Which sort of defeats the purpose, no?) Or hoped maybe you wouldn’t notice. It’s easy to hide behind my laptop and deal out healthy recipes and snippets of advice, but if we’re going to talk about it, lets talk about it. Walk the walk and all that. (Or if you don’t much care about this stuff, I wouldn’t be at all offended if you skipped through to another food blog.)

210 this morning. Although I spent much of my life at over 300 pounds (and I still cringe to share this, knowing that so many opinions of me change upon hearing it), 200 still seems like such a big number to be on the wrong side of. (I am close to 6′ tall.) As many of you know I lost half my weight – 165 pounds (from 330 = 165 pounds) by eating properly and exercising. As you can imagine, it’s a long story – I’ll spare you the details for now, but might as well get all these numbers on the table.

After being pregnant for what amounted to an entire year (52 weeks – I lost the first baby at 3 months and got pregnant again almost right away) and having W, and all that comes after that (you lose weight breastfeeding my ass), it nudged its way back up and has hovered around 210 for the past couple years. Still a long way from 330, but uncomfortable nonetheless.

Last Sunday I was 218, but as you know I jump-started the week with a bout of stomach flu that made it a little easier (in the worst possible way) to get quickly back on track. (You always see a quick drop at first, so don’t think I’m crash-dieting my way into those skinny jeans at a rate of 8 pounds per week.) I would be happy to make my way back to 170, and tone up a bit – increase my muscle mass again in the process. (Considering muscle weighs more than fat, 170 with no muscle tone looks and feels very different than a fitter 170.)

Wow, you’d think I had at least half a bottle of wine on board with that ramble. Sorry.

January 09 2009 | eating out | 81 Comments »

Roasted Tomato Soup and Lemongrass Buttermilk Pie

I do consider myself lucky to have a job writing/talking/researching/teaching/obsessing about food, but some days I feel like a nun working in a porn shop.

I mean it’s great to have an outlet; if I can’t eat all the food I want I can at least write about it… or talk about it on the radio or make it for a class. But some days it’s no wonder I could chew my own arm off by 5 o’clock.

Today I was finishing up an article for City Palate on the subject of lemongrass (which triggered an epiphany of sorts – details later) that included a recipe for buttermilk pie. Fortunately/unfortunately it required testing said recipe, which I fortunately/unfortunately had to actually taste in order to know if it worked out right. For research purposes – seriously. And I know, I could just have a bite or two. But I don’t want to have just a bite or two of pie.

But again, that’s life, and there are far worse things to suffer through than sticking to a small piece of pie.

And yes, I did.

Lemongrass Buttermilk Pie

To make a regular lemon buttermilk pie, simply omit the lemongrass and don’t bother whizzing the sugar or straining it with the buttermilk – simply add the finely grated zest of a lemon to the filling mixture instead.

Pastry for single crust pie

Filling:
1 stalk lemongrass
1 cup sugar
1 1/2 cups buttermilk
1/4 cup butter, melted
4 large egg yolks
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
pinch salt

On a lightly floured surface, roll the pastry 0ut to a 10” circle and fit it gently into a 9” pie plate. Trim and crimp the edges and put the crust in the fridge while you prepare the filling. Preheat the oven to 350°F.

Peel the tough leaves off the stalk of lemongrass, trim off the stem end and coarsely chop the pale, thick, tender part. Put it in the bowl of a food processor with the sugar and whiz until it’s as finely ground as you can get it. Transfer to a medium bowl and stir in the buttermilk; let stand for about 5 minutes to allow the sugar to dissolve.

Skim the surface with a fine-mesh sieve, or pour the whole thing through a sieve into another bowl, swishing around the sieve with a spoon or whisk to push as much through as possible; discard any lemongrass bits. Whisk the melted butter into the strained buttermilk mixture, then the egg yolks and flour.

Pour the filling into the shell and bake for 20 minutes, then reduce the temperature to 325°F and bake for 20-25 minutes more, until the filling is just set and barely golden around the edges. Let it cool completely on a wire rack and serve at room temperature or chilled.

Besides, I decided to forego any form of bread product with our roasted tomato soup for dinner, so there you go. Even Steven. Sort of.

You must have the lemongrass crème brulée recipe too, which I pulled from the article because I had too many other ideas – lemon crème brulée would be just too assertive, but lemongrass adds a wonderful floral-herbal-citrus flavour that balances perfectly with the cream without being acidic. I seriously can’t wait to try making lemongrass ice cream to serve with fresh berries or warm gingerbread.

Lemongrass Crème Brulée

Lemon would be too overpowering for a crème brulée, but herbal, floral lemongrass is just subtle enough to marry well with the cream, with no acidity.

2 – 2 1/4 cups heavy (whipping) cream or 18% coffee cream
1 stalk lemongrass
5 large egg yolks
6 Tbsp. sugar
extra sugar, for sprinkling on top

Preheat oven to 325°F.

In a medium saucepan, warm the cream until bubbles start to form around the edges. As it heats, peel away the tough outer leaves of the lemongrass, and bruise the tender lower inner stalk with the blunt side of a knife. Coarsely chop it, and then add it to the cream. Let it simmer for about 5 minutes, then take it off the heat and set aside to cool. When it is warm but not hot, strain through a fine sieve into another measuring cup; add a little extra cream to bring it back to 2 cups.

In a bowl, whisk together the egg yolks and sugar. Whisk in the cream. Divide among 4-6 small ramekins, and set them into a roasting pan or 9?x13? pan; pour water in so that the water comes about halfway up the sides of the ramekins.
Bake for 30-40 minutes, until the custards are set but still just slightly jiggly in the middle. Let them cool to room temperature in the bath and then refrigerate for a few hours or overnight, until cold.

When you’re ready to serve them, sprinkle an even layer of sugar (1- 2 tsp.) over each dish, tap and gently shake the ramekin back and forth to evenly cover the surface (tap off any excess if you like) and caramelize with a torch or transfer to a cookie sheet and place under the broiler for about 2 minutes, just until the sugar is caramelized and golden. (Turn the sheet around in the oven if you need to help them caramelize evenly.) Refrigerate again, or just let them sit on the countertop while you eat dinner or make coffee, just until the sugar is set and crackly.

January 08 2009 | dessert | 12 Comments »

Chicken & Black Bean Quesadillas and Roasted Broccoli with Parmesan

Good news: I think I’ve found my new favourite way to eat broccoli.

We had a head in the fridge that needed out of its misery. I briefly pondered broccoli-cheese soup or Classy Chicken… I don’t dislike broccoli, but I must say I’m rarely inspired by it. I’ll eat it on a veg & dip platter, mostly because those little trees can hang on to a lot of dip and I feel virtuous for it. (The broccoli part, not so much the dip.)

I was pondering the fact that my favourite way to cook vegetables is to roast them, and yet I’ve never roasted broccoli. I’ve never heard of anyone else roasting it, either. (Which is not to say it hasn’t been done – I’m certain it has!) So I cut it into fairly small florets and the stalk into chunks, tossed them with oil, spread them out on a baking sheet and roasted them at 450F for about 20 minutes.

Then I grated a bit of fresh Parmesan over the lot and put them back in for 5 minutes or so. It could be that I was ravenous, and actually held off nibbling while I cooked dinner (patting myself on the back counts as excercise, doesn’t it?), but it was the best broccoli I think I’ve ever had. (Which I realize you’ll have to take my word for considering this photo.) Next time I think I’ll add garlic.

While it was roasting I made quesadillas. Which I know are so last year, but we had a surplus of whole wheat tortillas, a baggie of leftover chopped chicken and a small chunk of old cheddar – just enough to glue them together but not enough to indulge. Normally I would have opened a can of black beans, but I had some of those Canton beans seasoned with garlic, onion and peppers and so added them to the filling, and then when they were gooey and crisp, scooped up as much salsa as each wedge would structurally tolerate. We each ate one folded quesadilla (by that I mean made with one tortilla rather than two) and then I had to go distract myself while my stomach caught up to my brain – once I get going I could easily graze straight through from late afternoon until bedtime.

But I didn’t. Yay me.

(Don’t think that my choice to use flour tortillas means they are somehow healthier than other types of bread – Atkins had us believe that wraps were a low carb choice, but in fact they are just unleavened bread – imaging rolling a slice of sandwich bread flat with a rolling pin. It would be nice if they were freebies, but they’re not.)

In other news, apparently I actually did have the Norwalk virus (which I think sounds far more dramatic just on account of its having a title – stomach flu doesn’t quite have the same ring to it) on Monday. Which explains why I thought I just might die right there in the loo. And which makes me ponder whom I came in contact with over the past week – Health Canada says I’ll remain contagious for a minimum of 3-4 days (and up to 2 weeks) after being symptom-free. So does that mean I can’t go to the gym and sweat all over everything for the next few days? Or even weeks? Damn.

(Can dogs get the Norwalk virus? Because as I sit and type this Lou has been intermittently and politely getting down off the couch and quietly ejecting vast quantities of soupy brown tire bits all over the floor.)

January 07 2009 | sandwiches and snacks and veg | 14 Comments »

Smoothies

and then nachos covered with fluorescent cheese and a pocket dog at the hockey game.

Don’t think this was a classic first-day-on-the-wagon slip up - I planned it this way. Hey, I never said I was giving up all that was bad for me all the time. Free Flames tickets come along very rarely, as do babysitters, and we planned to do it up right with some Saddledome food in order to complete the experience. (I’m not the only one – the concessions selling nachos, burgers, popcorn and all forms of dog had lineups a mile wide, while The Good Earth staff stood around with no one to talk to – it would appear a hockey game is not the correct venue for cappuccinos and banana bread.)

Because we were walking I didn’t bother bringing my camera (and because I’m pretty sure you know what nachos and cheese look like), but I kind of wish we had – then we could have asked the drunk guys in front of us in Flames logo MC Hammer pants high fiveing and chest butting each other (and us – luckily the Flames scored five times) and yelling give ‘er!! to take a picture of us. Or we could have had them pose with our nachos. (Mike bets that at least one of the pyjama pants guys has a ’71 Chevelle under a tarp in his back yard that he swears he’s going to rebuild someday.)

We also finally sought out the Pocket Dog my boyfriend keeps raving about – a $5.75 wiener stuffed into a section of baguette that has first been poked and inseminated with mustard, ketchup, cheese sauce and Ranch dressing. It was impossible to eat eloquently. And there was significant shrinkage. I was a little disappointed in the experience.

Not so with the nachos, which were everything I imagined. I had been daydreaming about them, nestled in warm, spicy cheese (still improper cheese:chip ratio) all day, so that by the time I had them in my lap the whole thing was gone 5 minutes into the first period. Yesterday, while curled up in the fetal position, I worried that I might not be up for the game tonight. But then sometime this afternoon my appetite came back and was all, I missed you so much. We have lots of catching up to do.

At that point I had gone to do CBC, then ran some errands, and still hadn’t eaten solid food since Sunday night. Because it didn’t seem like a wise choice to send nachos and cheese straight down to the front lines a day after a full evacuation, I paved the way with a smoothie this afternoon. Smoothies are the perfect sick food, especially when you have half a bag of wrinkled kiwi you’ve lost the gumption to do anything else with. (They freeze very well, by the way, just plain old in their skins, and you can peel them and throw them in frozen.) A smoothie makes the perfect sippable meal or snack to set beside the bed or couch; its easier on the stomach than a plate of food, and its cold, smooth texture soothes sore throats. Bananas contain potassium and vitamin B6; orange juice and frozen berries are high in vitamin C (although vitamin C hasn’t been proven to prevent colds, it can ease their severity and shorten their duration), and yogurt contributes protein and calcium. A drizzle of flax oil is a great way to deliver essential omega-3 fatty acids – 1 tsp. has as much as a 3 oz. filet of salmon.

I always assume smoothies don’t require a recipe, but for some they might:

Soothing Orange Banana-Berry Smoothie

1 banana, peeled and broken into chunks
1-2 cups frozen berries – my blend has strawberries, blueberries and blackberries
1-2 peeled kiwi fruit
1 cup plain yogurt
½ cup orange juice, milk or soy milk
2 Tbsp. honey (or to taste)
1 tsp. flax oil (optional)

Put all ingredients in a blender and pulse until smooth, adding more juice, yogurt or berries as you need it to achieve the right consistency. Serve immediately.

Serves 2.

Per serving: 269 calories, 2.5 g fat (1.3 g saturated, 0.6 g monounsaturated, 0.2 g polyunsaturated), 8 g protein, 58 g carbohydrate, 7.5 mg cholesterol, 3.6 g fiber. 8% calories from fat

Now some of you might think I’m not really serious about this healthy living thing, since the very first day after professing my dedication to it I go and eat garbage. This is the way of life. I don’t believe in the concept of cheating when it comes to food. When the nacho days outweigh the non-nacho days you have a problem, but it’s what you do most of the time that matters, not what you do some of the time. It’s not all or nothing, and it can be balanced out. We walked (including up 256 stairs to get back up to our neighbourhood), and we shared – we would never get two dogs or two burgers or two orders of nachos. And I consider it an achievement that since getting home I did not say “what the hell, I already ate junk, I might as well knock back a few Lindt chocolates and start tomorrow”, which would have easily been my rationale last week. Every bit helps.

January 07 2009 | beverages | 10 Comments »

Pan-fried Potatoes, Banana Dogs and Apple Juice

The last time I actually ate was Sunday night. Since then I’ve only sipped on apple juice, which I simmered with chunks of fresh ginger in an attempt to settle my stomach, and which was dramatically sent back, reminding me why W doesn’t have any brothers and sisters (yet). I had written a few paragraphs here Sunday night before getting slammed by the stomach flu, and so exercised my new-found freedom to backburner it until such time when I wasn’t sitting on the floor at the base of the toilet.

So this is how it began:

There aren’t many evenings more depressing than the last of the holiday season – the Sunday night after Christmas and New Year’s eve/day, the night before everyone really, truly gets back to it, when you can no longer slough off emails and voice mails and deadlines under the premise that you’re maybe off for the holidays, and you have to pick up all the messes and revisit the stresses you left undone as it got close to Christmas. It’s like the grandmother of all Sunday nights. In my mind I started January rested and rejuvenated, my office and basement and front hall organized, kitchen clean, laundry done and to-do list for 2009 written, prioritized and marked in the new daytimer. I even had a couple stints at the gym out of the way.

Or the opposite of that. Instead I’m up far later than I planned to be, sitting on the couch in a men’s XL red/yellow/green plaid flannel LL Bean nightshirt paired with pink polka-dot flannel pants and brown and orange socks – my outfit of choice for the past week or so – that screams I’VE LET MYSELF GO. (The hundred or so red and green foil Hershey’s Kiss wrappers rolled into teeny balls and scattered over the couch and floor are further evidence of this.) I look like a female George Costanza that got stung by a bee and swelled.

Not only did Santa not bring me that Mac I wanted (the elves are working on it; apparently they need my help and I haven’t brought myself to set foot in a workshop during Boxing week) he didn’t bring me those time management skills I keep asking for. And far too much of what he did bring was edible. Speaking of – dinner was the last of the leftover baked potatoes, turned into pan fries (chop them roughly and cook in a slick of oil and a dab of butter, sprinkled with curry powder, chili powder and salt), with eggs fried in the pan alongside, toast and the last of the junk we’re trying to purge from the kitchen: ripple chips with French onion dip, chocolate and cookies.

So it will come as no surprise that I managed to acquire a full extra 10 pounds since Christmas in November. (Maybe I should start measuring in stone – one stone – about 14 lbs, I think – doesn’t sound like as big a deal, hey? Just a few pebbles, really.) I’ve needed to do something about this for a long time, but I suppose not wanted to badly enough – I think I was too tired, or overwhelmed, or lazy. I’m not one for New Year’s resolutions for the sake of it being January 1st – I generally make a point out of having a good and buttery breakfast on the first morning of the new year just to get that out of the way – but it’s as good a time as any to wean myself off of the overindulgences of the season and really start making myself feel better. Plus I think I’m all chocolated out.

So to give you fair warning, I will likely be preoccupied with eating healthier over the next months. Not all the time, mind you – that’s not how live works – but I have to really throw myself into it to see results, and so there will likely be a bit of a spillover here. I’ve started by culling the index for healthy meals I particularly liked last year – and I know that most of the yogurt containers in the freezer contain soup and chili and spaghetti sauce, so that’s a start.

Some of you know I’ve gone this route before. Friends and family members shrug and say “you’ve done it before, you can just do it again”. Which makes sense, but knowing the path and walking it are two very different things. We all know what we need to do to lose weight or get in shape. The hard part is actually doing it.

{Insert stomach flu here.}

Fast-forward to dinnertime Monday night, when I haven’t even checked my emails let alone gone to the gym. I suppose if I were to look for a silver lining, this not eating has probably gone a long way toward weaning me off of the quantities of food I got used to over the holidays. W, who barfed a bit at about 4:30 am but has been fine since then, asked for a picnic dinner in front of Wall-E. Done. I spread a whole wheat hot dog bun from the freezer with peanut butter and stuffed in a banana (a banana-dog), and he didn’t even need utensils. Mike is starting to curl up in the corner, and I’m sipping on a bit of Coke. I’ll let you know how that goes.

January 05 2009 | leftovers | 21 Comments »