ecoburgh

I've already posted a much smaller version of this on Twitter and Facebook, so it's kind of redundant, but I'm doing it anyway because I think it's just great.

Tonight as I drove to Subway to get a cheap dinner (finals = no grocery shopping and awful eating habits) and to the store to get a bottle of wine (finals = brain is fried), I listened to 91.3 WYEP, the only station worth listening to in Pittsburgh. This environmental program was on that I've never heard before, called the Allegheny Front, and it mentioned this eco-friendly store that's in the South Side. I Googled it when I got home, and ran across another eco-freak store in Lawrenceville. After browsing a bit, I found these awesome shoes on sale called Veja Volley.

I think they sorta look like my Onitsuka Tigers, but they are designed in Paris and made under strict fair trade, fair pay regulations with organic cotton and natural latex rubber from the Amazon rainforest in Brazil. The company goes through so much to make sure they are not only quality, but are made under conditions that do not exploit the worker or the environment.

BUT THIS IS THE KICKER: they are only sold in four stores in the United States: two in New York City, one in Los Angeles, and one in our very own Pittsburgh, at Equita on Butler Street.

Is it weird that this makes me feel like one might when seeing a son or daughter perform in a school play for the first time? I need to pat the city on its head or pinch its cheeks.

And Scariest Movie of the Year goes to...

Back to the Food Inc. post. Yes, I have seen the movie; actually I saw it earlier this fall at a lecture I had to attend for my global studies class, and never posted about it because I wanted to develop my opinions fully first (like most propaganda-doc's, such as Super-size Me or anything Michael Moore, it's a bit much to take in) so I wouldn't end up just rambling. Which.... I guess is sort of not in tune with the rhetoric of blogging... but... crap.

So now, as a punishment, I'm going to have to rely on my sub-par memory and what info I can glean from the Interwebs in order to talk about this.

In essence, the movie showcases the industrial, mechanized food industry, which is basically America's entire food industry. Wrapped up in this are several themes: the firm grasp corporate head haunchos have not just on what we eat, but on the federal regulatory commissions (FDA, USDA) in which we are supposed to place our trust, the ways in which farmers are being undermined and subjugated by laws and patents, the abominable health and safety regulations at these factory farms, the lack of worker's rights in meat factories, how much cheaper it is to buy unhealthy vs. healthy, devastating health effects of diseases like E.coli.... maybe now you realize why I was wary to write about it. I could spend a year. And wind up with a book. (And there already is one, so that's pointless.)

The movie is eye-opening, truly. It's honestly terrifying to realize how warped our food industry is, how far removed we as consumers are from the production of our food (do you know EXACTLY where a single thing in your fridge came from? What about the state? Or even the country?) and, perhaps most terrifying, that this is not a simple mistake. People in this industry are not sitting at their desks, eyes popping out of their skulls, hands glued to cheeks in an Edvard Munchian pose, screaming "WHAT HAVE WE DONE?!" Nah, they are just counting their bucks.

Looking back, I remember now that it was also the emotional impact that kept me from writing. I saw it only a couple weeks after I started this blog, and the effect of the movie was somewhat PETA-esque, in that it made me feel really really bad, but instead of just abstractly feeling bad for little baby chicks, I felt bad for my life. It was like someone ramming down my throat EVERYTHING YOU EAT IS BAD FOR YOU EVEN IF YOU THINK IT'S NOT and I was like, Jesus, I am not doing nearly enough. I mean I eat meat! And meat that is not from a tiny farm where I know for sure how the animal was raised! This was also before I started going to farmer's markets regularly, so I was like Okay so now simply buying fruits and vegetables is not enough, I have to track down where they came from. These feelings of inadequacy irked me. And I suppose that was the point of the movie: to scare you into eating healthier, or just being more conscious of what you're eating. And I totally support the latter part of that equation. I'm just not so sure about the path to it.

The one point in the film where I really remember being like Oh COME ON, was the beginning of a scene in which the words "Lifting the Veil" appeared on the screen. BUT, (and my memory may fail me a bit on the exact details of this one) right before "Veil" appeared the "e" and the "v" were switched so it said for a brief nanosecond, yes: evil. I don't think everyone noticed this, and I probably only did because I pay a lot of attention to words. And it doesn't really matter, I guess, in the larger context of the more important issues discussed, but I just sort of feel like, to me, this stuff is scary enough on its own; the facts alone are enough to make me change my lifestyle. Why do you need to insult our intelligence with the scare tactics?

So this pseudo-review ended up being more negative than I intended... most likely because the details of the movie have slipped from my consciousness but, like most things, the emotional impact has stuck with me. But in all honesty, I do encourage everyone to see it. Seriously. Just don't get hung up on negative feelings like I did. Focus on what they are actually, beyond the rhetoric, showing and telling you. Because it's really important for anyone who eats food in this country, and, unlike Super-size Me, it's not just about McDonalds--it's ALL food.

If you want to read reviews written by people who didn't wait three months, I found a list of them here. And check out Food Inc.'s website for more information. Photo from the review by the NYTimes.

Ezra Klein and Mark Bittman, chattin' away

Wow, since that post a few weeks ago in which I expressed concern that my blog was getting a bit too self-absorbed (due to laziness), I now realize it's getting a bit NYTimes-absorbed (due to laziness.) This is because I subscribed to Bitten and Well (both NYTimes blogs) and they show up on my Blogger dashboard every day. So now it's way easier to go, "Ooo that looks interesting, let me read it and post a short synopsis/opinion on it. Done and done."

Whatever, maybe I'll expand my blog horizon beyond the New York Times (even though they are probably the most fantastic, expertise- and quality-wise) but right now, I'm going to talk about them. Again. Because today Mark Bittman posted a couple of awesome video clips of him and Ezra Klein (economic columnist for the Washington Post... if you're a classmate and the name rings a bell, it's because Joel assigned something by him, though I can't remember what--but I bet it was something about the financial conundrum of mainstream media! Yeah, I know: get outta here!)



If you're not enticed already by the fact that it's just them, talking to each other via headsets and webcams, well then you apparently are not as easily amused as I am. I encourage you to watch it if you have the time. (It's delightfully casual and entertaining--especially when Mark's phone rings and he moves out of the shot for a moment to see who it is, leaving poor Ezra to look around and say something awkward.) But just in case, I will highlight what I think were the most interesting parts.

This first clip--which, slightly annoyingly, is not labeled or identified in any manner in the blog post--is mainly about Mark's beef (pun, yes) with vegetarianism. He says that if a vegetarian is so because he thinks meat is murder, but still eats eggs and dairy, then he is slightly "hypocritical" (I rather think of it as ill-informed) because male chicks and calves born on dairy farms are killed. Which I totally did not know.

Ezra then recounts a visit to a goat cheese farm, where they treated their animals very humanely, and how, when asked what happens to the male goats, the woman who ran the farm replied, 'Well, they go into the meat industry.' He laughs and says, "I love the way she put that ... as if they turn 18 and they get a suit and a tie and a briefcase.. they get sent to learn the meat business."

Although I of course chuckled along with them, there is a sinister truth behind this. And their criticism of vegetarianism is precisely what I meant the other day when I referred to the trendiness and almost elitism behind it, that is often lacking substantial reasoning. As Mark says, if your problem is really moral, go vegan.



This one is a debate on the plausibility of launching an assault reminiscent of the tobacco industry on the processed food industry, whereby junk food would be taxed, and those tax dollars would be used for education about healthy eating. Mark wants this, but Ezra argues that more efficient results might be wrought from simply removing the convenience of junk food. Once again, he gives a brilliant example: a vending machine that used to be down the hall from his office was moved, and now he no longer gets Diet Cokes everyday because he's not willing to go down the street to get one. So it wasn't a dying urge for soda that caused him to grab them before, it was "because it was easy."

I think this is so, so true, and I can give one glaring example in the college world (that may make a few of my friends squirm in their seats): meal plans. Having seemingly free money on your school ID, for the sake of convenience, can be an open invitation to indulge in Chik-Fil-A in the Cathedral Cafe everyday (although I am by no means saying you guys do this, so please don't shun me.) Now that I live off-campus and don't have a meal plan, I usually pack, or wait until I get home to eat, or go somewhere healthier, because no longer do I have the excuse of "Well, I have so many Dining Dollars left that I need to get rid of, so it's okay if I get it." It may take me a few extra minutes in the morning (literally, like only five) to pack, but I save both money and my waistline by doing it. A sacrifice I'm more than willing to make.

Food Inc. Trailer

Funny--I posted about contaminated chicken today before I read Lukas's comment on my post about buying locally, in which he talked about health risks from eating overly processed foods.

This is definitely, definitely a concern for the conscious organic/local buyer, and one I meant to address more explicitly by now, instead of just in ambiguous references to the chemicals that are put in our food. Unfortunately I don't have the time right now to go into it, but will leave you with this: a trailer to a documentary that came out this past summer called Food Inc. While very propaganda-y and one-sided, it is eye-opening as to the present grip corporate agribusiness has on America and all the different ways it affects us: economically as buyers, as workers in these slaughterhouses, our relationship with animals, our health and weight, our relationship with farmers.... I could go on. And will, later, I promise.

Unsafe Chicken Trends

Lovely. Found out via a post on Well that two out of three broiler chickens (which are pretty much any chicken raised for consumption) are contaminated with either salmonella or campylobacter bacteria, which can both cause food poisoning, but the latter can lead to "meningitis, arthritis, and Guillain-Barré syndrome, a severe neurological condition." (Read the rest of the post here.)

Argh. This is pretty much why I've cut back on meat in the past year or so. I mean not just bacteria; there are other factors too, particularly that raising animals for human consumption requires so much more energy--both in feed and fossil fuels--than just growing plants. But I haven't become a vegetarian yet because... well I guess because I don't believe in diets (and vegetarianism or veganism is a form of a restrictive diet.) Because I know myself too well: if I want to eat meat, I will. And anyway, it's not the meat itself I disagree with--it's the way it's raised, butchered, transported, etc. (If, years after declaring vegetarianism, I was at a small farm and they butchered a chicken that they raised from an egg--you'd better believe I'd want some.)

And it doesn't matter to me to be able to say "Oooo I'm a vegetarian/vegan," like it's some sort of a badge to wear. And I know it's not to everyone; to some it is a deeply personal and value-laden commitment. But I can't help thinking that to some, the trendy aspect is a bit too alluring....

Brussel Sprouts: we meet again.

Yesterday I traveled with my mom through the picturesque woods of Chardon, Ohio to go to my aunt Donna's house/alpaca farm for T-Day dinner, and it really was grand. I told her on the way back how much more I enjoy family get-togethers as I get older, and how I really wasn't a big fan of them as a kid because my cousins are either five years+ older or five years+ younger. I was stranded in no-man's conversation land.

But now I can relate to everyone on some level or another. And now there is an adorable BABY SYDNEY (courtesy of my cousin Jen) whom I love in all her squirmy poopy goodness. First baby in the family since I was barely a not-baby myself. It is glorious. And she is too.

But on to the food. Pretty basic yet delicious: turkey, smashed taters, baked yams, cranberry sauce, stuffing (which I didn't eat), zucchini and yellow squash, Waldorf salad (which is just a fruit salad with apples, grapes, walnuts, and celery all mixed up in mayonnaise or yogurt), pumpkin bread, and brussel sprouts.

And mid-dinner I realized something very important: Despite every forked attempt, despite the valiant efforts of butter, I cannot like brussel sprouts. My aunt has a vegetable garden in her backyard so she went out and picked fresh brussel sprouts immediately before cooking them (she either boiled or steamed them I believe? I was in the living room at the time so I'd have to check my sources on that one), so I was like Okay, I have to give it a shot (again.) I mean they're so fresh! And my mom and aunts were talking them up, so despite the pleas of my fellow b sprout-hating cousins not to sell out, I tried one. It was sort of how I always remembered it: like a stronger, almost nuttier tasting broccoli, but bitterer. My mom said she always thought they were sweeter, so I tried a few more for good measure. Regardless of what they really taste like, my gag reflexes were acting up by the end. That was the clincher. Had to will myself not to yak all over the table.

So, childhood vegetables hated:
Asparagus. Now lovelovelove.
Brussel Sprouts. ...Sorry dude. Maybe if presented in the tastiest package ever, to the extent that they barely resembled their former selves. But I think that might be cheating.

Pilgrims and (real) Indians

Although my stepmom dragged us by our pigtails to Middle Eastern restaurants and other foreign-like places when I was little, I didn't really start appreciating the rich spices of the Orient until I came to college. (I know, pretty typical: "Hey guys! Let's go get Indian and smoke a hookah and drink cheap red wine and discuss Nietzsche's effect on post modernism, because we go to college!" I mean I guess it's better than that other option: trudging through a sea of Natty Light and sweat and bad decisions in the basement of some fraternity.)

Now I am admittedly not very learned in the vast array of Indian dishes, but I do love me some curry. And I found a video from Mark Bittman's blog over at NYTimes (can't embed it, sorry) in which he makes a simple turkey curry from bird-day leftovers. He also throws in some spinach in the hopes that it might resuscitate you from the throes of a meat-and-carbs induced coma.

The intro is a bit wacky and over the top zen-like, but if you can get over that, the recipe seems to be good. I've never actually looked up the recipe for curry so had no idea it was just rice milk, tomatoes, and spices like cumin, coriander, and turmeric. Pretty simple; maybe I'll have to host a little curry party to try it out. (That's how you get your friends to come to your apartment when it's not within walking distance--lure them with treats.)

reasons for buying local: status or values?

Although a little dated (it's from last summer), I just ran across an article in the NYTimes about a guy in San Francisco who started a company that will till, plant, and harvest a garden in the backyard of city-dwellers who want local food but don't want to get their shiny new jeans dirty. Apparently this is a growing trend of business start-ups, tending to the locavore needs of people with means:

Or you could just have your private chef handle all your local food needs. At their Hamptons summer house, John and Lorna Brett Howard want to eat almost exclusively local, which means that in place of one trip to the grocery store, their chef, Michael Welch, makes several trips to farm stands and the fishmonger. 

“What I’m seeing with my clients is not the trendiness or the politics,” Mr. Welch said. “They are looking only at taste.”

I can't help but wonder how right Mr. Welch is about that trendiness statement. After reading a column written by our own Joel Lovell about the Greenmarket in Brooklyn, and this level of self-righteousness he can't help but feel radiating from the fat wallets of its customers--that just because you have the money to pay $28 per pound of biodynamic grass-fed steak does not mean you are a better person--I really think trend has got to have an active role in this situation. The same way some people start shopping at J. Crew and Banana Republic when they start making money; not really because the clothes mean anything more to them deep down, but because they represent some level of "making it".

But, this is the thing: I shop farmer's markets and I've never experienced this feeling. I mean, they're just stands set up in a parking lot--about as modest as you can get. Most of the people shopping don't look rich to me. If anything, most people are toting bike helmets or bandanas and Birkenstocks. And the food isn't any more expensive. I could get a basket of 5 or 6 apples for 3 or 4 bucks, a head of romaine for $1.50; all in all I spent less at farmer's markets than I would have at jacked-up Giant Eagle or (even worse) Whole Foods.(Maybe these economic and social differences are attributable to differences in cites--I mean, Pittsburgh is not New York.)

And I guess now would be the time to mention that I do not shop at Whole Foods, which Joel mentioned along with the Greenmarket. I went there once with my mom and sister to find gluten-free pizza dough for her, and my eyes nearly bugged out of my head when I saw the price for just about every single thing in there. We left and went to Trader Joe's instead and found that, while a smaller store, they had a lot of the same lovely atypical and organic foods, but without the fancy labels and price tags. (Their produce is not local, but that's why I go to farmer's markets.) The employees dress in Hawaiin shirts, some have piercings and combat boots and jet-black hair, some are about as typical blond crew-cut American as you can get. And while I do see a few Mercedes roll into the parking lot, the clientèle is a diverse mix, and most look middle class. It's just super laid back.

So I guess maybe these self-righteous feelings arise not from the act of buying local or organic foods, but the motives for buying it and how much it costs. If you do it just because it's associated with a status of comfort--having the money not just to feed your family, but to feed your family the best of the best--or because a bunch of your cool friends are doing it, I can understand holier-than-thou concerns. But it's a little different for me. My friends generally do not shop at the places I do, so I go by myself. Actually, I've been teased for eating "weird foods" (lovingly, I'm sure,) so it's sort of been an anti-trend for me. And I do go to satisfy a certain taste for fresh, healthy foods, but it also has to do with peace of mind; doing what little I can to support a type of system that I feel better about than corporate agribusiness. And the peace of mind I get from knowing a little more about the food I eat; what's in it, where it came from. It's not really more expensive, but it does take extra travel and planning, so I guess it's a tiny bit of a commitment. It's personal, it's political, but mainly it's about values.

West and East lie the Health promise land

Today Forbes.com released a list of all fifty states ranked from healthiest to unhealthiest, based on "22 indicators of health, including everything from how many children receive recommended vaccinations, to obesity and smoking rates, to cancer deaths." Healthy is a very vague and broad term, and therefore hard to measure quantitatively, in my opinion, but of course I wanted to know how we stacked up.

About average, it seems: Pennsylvania is 28th. (For family: Ohio is33rd. And for Joel: New York is 25th. Smack dab in the middle.)

Number one was Vermont, while Mississippi held up the rear. Interestingly enough, California only came in at 23rd. Maybe there's more good actors out there than we thought. 

But Colorado, the state I was born in and spent my first 4 years, showed up at 8th. Must be something in that Rocky air.

Quality ingredients to shove up your gobbler

Remember when I said I was going to start a series decoding the chemically-sounding ingredients in common foods? And how I posted one entry? And haven't since? Yeah. Well, that's mainly because (believe it or not) that entry involved about 4 or 5 hours of work total. It was grueling, in the instantaneous blogosphere. I have since shied away from such research-heavy endeavors, leaning on personal anecdotes that, while taking at least an hour to write (the lengthier, more introspective ones at least), are so much easier. On my brain.

But I'm not satisfied with just these types of posts because there's a big world out there and other people talking in it that should be heard. That's blogging, right? So several days ago I thought, "I need to subscribe to health news, or just get disciplined enough to read it daily."

So I did. Well, just right now. I guess "once" isn't really "daily" (yet); whatever.

The New York Times, besides being regarded as a modern-day dinosaur by the Daily Show in one of their always-hilarious sketches, has a website that is really more of a labyrinth of news and blogs and multimedia and other things with words that is intimidating yet alluring. Its most prominent health blog is Well, which I mentioned in the Pollan post. Now, Well is extremely informative, and it would probably benefit me to read it regularly, but my only problem with it is a lack of personalness or personality or humanness. I.e. it reads like news, not really like a blog.

But nudged next to Well on the Health and Fitness homepage is a weekly series (a blog? is it in the paper too? I'm not sure) called Recipes for Health.

Jackpot. If there's one thing I'm lacking, and know damn well I'm lacking, it's recipes. Maybe because I'm only 21, don't have a family or boyfriend to cook for, a lot of money to spend on food, etc. Maybe I'm making excuses (probably). But that doesn't mean I shouldn't still talk about it!

This week, in lieu of Thanksgiving, the writer Martha Rose Shulman posts an alternative recipe for stuffing. Now, I have always been a big anti-fan of stuffing. I'm not sure why except I think it was one of those things I tried as a child and then just decided I hated. Maybe because it cooks inside the carcass of a dead animal and even at seven something about that rubbed me the wrong way. Maybe because it often has random animal parts in it that you would never see anywhere else on a dining room table (Dear, can you pass the liver?), parts that I am not particularly comfortable ingesting.

But this recipe has no necks. Just some veggies, herbs, spices, almonds, chicken stock and--best of all--wild rice. If you've never had wild rice, please do. My sister and I made enchiladas with it once and it was phenomenal. Wild rice, besides the color appeal, is not as sticky and mushy as white or brown rice, and nutritionally it is a tiny step above brown with 2 more grams of protein and a few less calories. But mainly it's pretty.

And in my book, pretty beats full o' chicken parts. This is something I might actually be able to stomach. Except--I'd probably make it the vegetarian way. No turkey ovens for me.

the bread machine of wonders

Last year my mom cut gluten (part of the wheat germ) out of her life, because her doctor thought it may have been causing the debilitating migraines she had been suffering several times a week for decades. Well, it ended up being attributable not to gluten, but to a hormone called progesterone, but I still got a bread maker out of the deal.

My mom has had this machine since I was a kid, but she got a new one because this one was gluten-contaminated. So I told her (asked politely) to hand that sucker down.


I don't know many other people who have bread machines, but everyone should, because these things are quite nifty. They combine the best of both worlds: the ease of minimal effort and the wholesome satisfaction of eating something you yourself made. I mean it when I say these things require no baking skills. Or mixing skills. You just measure ingredients and pour them in the pre-formed bread pan. The machine does the kneading and rising and baking for you.

And, of course, there's health benefits from baking your own bread, but if you already buy your bread from a baker or minimally-processed whole-wheat loaves from companies like Brownberry, it is primarily a feel-good look-what-I-can-do thing (like when you give quarters to the Salvation Army Santa... you walk away smiling because you are such a good person but how much change is a few quarters gonna bring?) But, if you're eating squishy white bread, you'll definitely be doing your body a preservative-free favor.

I make it with a ratio of 5 parts whole wheat flour to 1 part bread flour (because it doesn't rise as well with all whole wheat... but once I drag my ass to a health food store and buy gluten, I'll make it 100% WW.)

But when I was a kid, my mom used to bake white loaves for the PB & J's she packed in my lunch. I can't remember if I voiced my distress at the time, but I hated it. Not because it tasted bad (it didn't) but because it looked different. And all the prying judgment-filled eyes of my peers noticed, and everyone asked why it looked so funny, and while I still ate it, I would hold my sandwiches under the lunch table, embarrassed, wishing I could just be like all the other kids with their pristine, blindingly white Wonder Bread.

Because even kids know this is weird (although this is wheat... so imagine it a few shades lighter):

And this is normal:

Which, now that the years have stacked up, strikes me as quite an odd dilemma in the life of a kid. Who cares what your bread looks like? I also got teased for having (and eating) apples in my lunch. Is this food-related ridicule universal? I went to elementary school in an area where a larger-than-average percentage of adults were poor and pretty uneducated, and for whom the struggle to be able to tame hungry little bellies overrode the need to make sure that sustenance was healthy. (Or, perhaps in some situations, the culprit was more ignorance and contentment with ignorance than lack of money. That's worth arguing.) So most of my friends ate a lot of Little Debbie or her generic counterparts. Was it different in more affluent areas?

This is dipping heavily into a topic I'd like to discuss more in depth at a later time--how to feed kids healthy things they'll like, and what factors other than taste affect their detestation of certain foods. Because, whenever the day comes, you can bet my kids will be carrying the same funny-looking sandwiches in their futuristic lunch pails that I carried way, way back in the prehistoric 1990s.

farmers r us

All ye Pitt students: A new club called Plant to Plate started this week at the University. Unfortunately, I missed the first meeting because the Pitt News reported that it was being held Thursday, when really it was Wednesday. My global studies professor also forwarded my class an email from Marc Schutzbank, the creator or coordinator or voice of the program..... about 5 hours after the first meeting ended. Epic fail much?

Regardless, here's the e-mail:

If you're reading to get involved in a new organic farm here in Pittsburgh - then here's your chance. Plant to Plate, a new organization developing connections between what we put in our stomachs and into the ground, will be clearing some of the land this Wednesday on November 11, 2009 from 12 - 4. (Directions Below).

The idea is this. Food is confusing, it comes from somewhere - usually Giant Eagle. It's grown far away, pumped with chemicals and then shipped here to Pittsburgh so we can buy it. That model just does not make the best tasting food - which is why we're giving you a chance to grow your own. Come work on our plot of land and the time that you put in will be paid back with boxes of produce that we grow in the farm. We just need your time.

Where: 5271 Forbes Ave It's a quick walk up Forbes past CMU. Take any 61 or 59U and get off at Plainview and walk 1 block down the hill. It'll be on your right. 

Looking forward to seeing you there!

Let you know more as I know more.

<3 pEaNuT bUtTeR!~!~!~

When I found out I had high cholesterol, one of the things that was suggested was to eat more oatmeal, or anything made from oats. (I know we've all seen the Cheerio's commercials about lowering your cholesterol if you eat like 500 bowls of Cheerio's every day for the rest of your life.)

Which, you know, was no big deal. Oatmeal's good. But--my idea of "oatmeal" was a sugar-doused flavored product. Even when my mom made me real Quaker Oats as a kid, I put a lot, a lot, of brown sugar on it. Like it was essentially sugar with a coupla lone oats tossed in.

So what to do now? How to make it appetizing without reversing the health benefits? I started by adding raisins, which plump when you cook them and add some natural sweetness, but I couldn't help but sprinkle a packet of Splenda on there too. When I became a little more informed and thus wary of artificial sweeteners, I stuck to just raisins. And it was okay, but I honestly had to force myself to make it. Like I would never wake up craving it, or even really wanting it, but I would shove it down my gullet anyway, reminding myself of its artery unclogging powers.

Then this past summer, I was at Kelsey's house one morning and she was making oatmeal for me, her, and her boyfriend George. When she asked George what he wanted in his, he said peanut butter. I remember doing a double take. Peanut butter? In oatmeal? I asked her who the hell she thought she was mixing these two things. She laughed at me.

Since then, I've embarked on a love affair with the union of these two previously disparate foods. I was already shacking up with peanut butter, have been for a long time. But now oatmeal's invited, and for the first time I really want him there.

If you've never had this, and you like peanut butter, I'd definitely recommend giving it a try. I mix about a half cup of oats with a cup of skim milk (but you can make however much you want) and usually just pop it in the microwave, but if you are cooking for more than one person, I'd recommend the stove. Then mix in about a tablespoon of peanut butter while the oatmeal's hot and it will sort of just dissolve. This breakfast has about 18 grams of protein (if you make it with skim milk, which I don't know how anyone eats it with water without barfing), about 335 calories, and, yes, about 11 grams of fat, but only about 1 1/2 grams are saturated; the rest are either polyunsaturated or monounsaturated (the good-for-your-heart kind.)

And if you use almond butter instead of pb, its extra monounsaturated fats serve up a double whammy sucker punch to lower LDL cholesterol (the bad one). Unfortunately, almond butter is a quite a bit more expensive. Thus far I have only picked it up wistfully in the grocery store, set it back on the shelf with a sigh, and slowly pushed my cart down the aisle, looking over my shoulder with big, cartoonish eyes. Someday, we will be united.

Food, we need to talk.

Thinking about that last post, I'm brought back to Pollan's rules, and the one I said was my favorite:

"Don't create arbitrary rules for eating if their only purpose is to help you feel in control."

I knew this was my favorite because of my disregard for dietary rules, but I don't think I explained that disregard fully in that post or this blog (realized this when Ben suggested I post my own rules and I thought "Ooo ... that's exactly what I wouldn't do.") And I think I didn't express it explicitly because I didn't wholly understand why I don't like rules in the first place. I knew they didn't work for me. That they were frustrating. But it didn't come into full view until last night, when I realized that I didn't like them because dietary rules and restrictions often put the blame on the food itself, not the way we eat the food or why we eat it the way we do. They don't recognize that people's relationship with food is deep and intimate, and by simply removing and replacing some items you are only addressing the shiny, approachable exterior of the problem.

For example, all of last year I lived under this guise of "Well I eat pretty healthy foods most of the time, so even though I'm a little overweight, I'm okay." Then sometime over the summer it hit me that my problem wasn't necessarily what I ate, it was how much. I'm an overeater, often emotional, always because of lack of self-control. And I knew it deep down the whole time, I just ignored it because I wasn't emotionally ready to address that aspect of my relationship with food.

What was my breaking point? I don't know. Living on my own. Buying my own food (you eat more, you pay more!). Growing awareness of what "wasteful" really means, and how much I waste (both in the trashcan and in an already-full belly). Gaining respect and ownership of my own body and self. A new-found sense of control, I guess.

Which is what diets are, really, an attempt at control, but all too often for external reasons. I have to lose weight to look good in that bikini, wedding dress, etc. So we do it the way we've been taught to control anything: with rules. No more chocolate. Maybe instead of targeting the individual foods we eat, it's better to look at our relationship with that food. Why do you like the foods you like? Why do you not eat certain foods? How much do you really know about what you are putting in your body? How much do you care? If it's very little, why?

So I won't give you, if you are someone who is unhappy with your relationship with food, rules on what to eat and what not to eat. That's entirely subjective and, anyway, it takes a lot of time to grow to love certain types of food, something I don't think nutritionists take into account. What I will give is advice on perspective.

• Think of "diet" in its original definition, meaning what we eat. That's it. Over time it's been morphed into this temporary quick-fix to a problem that can't be fixed quickly. Think of a change in diet as a gradual, continuous slope. 
• Your life, your happiness, should be your reasons for this change, as opposed to events or milestones. The latter is too frivolous on its own to uphold any serious changes. However, if a graduation or a wedding is merely a catalyst to ignite changes that you've been aching for deep down, this is fine, as long as you address the deeper reasons. Simply wanting to look good in pictures is not enough. 
• Go slow. If you eat a lot of fried foods and decide you're going to stop completely and only eat steamed or grilled, you will get frustrated. If you go to the gym for the first time in 10 years and say I'm going to run a mile, you will be disappointed. Listen to your body, and if you're out of breath from walking on the treadmill, great! Stick with that and gradually build up. 
• If you can't love your body yet, at least respect it. One day it will become love.

skinny jeans manifesto

About a month ago I received a voice mail from my dad: "Uhh... we're taking things to Goodwill and I'm bringing that bag of clothes you left in the basement." Panic and immediate call back: "No, Dad, those aren't Goodwill clothes, they're just clothes I don't really wear anymore but I don't want to get rid of yet, please don't take them." Pause. "What's the difference? If you don't wear them, get rid of them."

Whether my reasoning got lost in translation because of differences in gender or age, I'm not sure, but I didn't expect him to understand. (Will Smith was totally right.) Sure, that bag was filled with both too-tight jeans and old band t-shirts inscribed with angsty quotes that now make me cringe, but they had not yet sunk to the level of no return. There was still hope in some of that cotton.

And good thing, because about an hour ago, after lugging the bag back from his house, I experienced one of the greatest moments ever recognized in the history of womandom: I fit into my pre-college (and pre-weight gain) jeans, no shimmy necessary.

I've never experienced this elation. When I lost my childhood chub, it was because I grew vertically and just, well, straightened out I guess. My weight didn't actually drop. Since then, any weight losses were subtle and were countered by puberty-induced changes (I have hips now? What are these?). Because of all these other directional growths, my pant size has only gone up, not down.

Now, I know that I've said many times that I think it's important to focus more on over-all health than a number on the scale, and I'm sticking to that. (In fact, I have no idea what I weigh right now. I don't own a scale.) But--by this I don't mean that weight doesn't matter. It does, especially when it's in either extreme. So then what do I mean by this little credo of mine?  Well, it's sort of two-fold: what matters more than getting down to a certain weight is why you want to lose that weight and where you plan to go after you do.

For one, there is a colossal, often-overlooked distinction between wanting to lose weight to look skinny and thus more attractive (an externally-motivated desire) and wanting to lose weight to be healthier (internally-motivated). And for me, it took completely dismissing weight loss as a goal altogether to finally lose weight--counter-intuitive, I know, but this mindset worked. This seems like a difficult place to get to mentally, especially as a single twentysomething woman who would like to, you know, attract a nice potential-husband someday. But it's not, because my decision had nothing to do with the way I look: I wanted to get Healthier, and if Skinnier decided to tag along, so be it. Because of this, losing weight was even more satisfying; it was like an extra treat, the prize at the bottom of the cereal box.

But I wasn't always like this. I have countless memories of shocking glimpses in the mirror, tears streaming down my cheeks, scribbled lists of all the things I was no longer going to allow myself to eat. All such diet ventures have hitherto been failures. And perhaps rightfully so, because besides being superficial, they were punishments assigned during fits of anger toward myself, my body: "You let yourself go, now you have to suffer." All totally unrealistic. They were like those year-long grounding sentences issued by fired-up parents during high school, the ones that made you turn your head and snicker because you knew it was never gonna last.

Same with those diets, only this time it was my bad habits doing the snickering. Once my frustration toned down, so did my will to eat only salads for lunch, order from the "lite" menu at restaurants, pass on pizza with friends, etc. Everything about these "diets" was painted negatively: How many calories can I burn, how many can I cut out. These restrictions were so suffocating that when I didn't immediately see results, I gave up, thinking "Well if I'm not going to lose weight, I may as well eat what I want."

I focused on a tenuous destination, not a long-term journey. And as corny as it sounds, being healthy really is a journey, in that it is one little step after the other. Don't plunge in and expect to know how to swim; you have to toe the shore and allow your body time to accommodate. And it will. I found that the more healthy foods I tried, the more I craved them. Same with exercising. That my body loved me for it; I could feel it in my lungs and my stomach and my muscles and my heart, without a doctor telling me so.

And today, I felt it again in the empty space between my skin and the waistbands of those jeans. Without a guy's approval.

the mother of all grains

A friend asked the other night about the vegetable I mentioned on my blog, so I said you mean collard greens? and she said, "No, that other one.... that qu--something."

What she was referring to is quinoa (KEEN-wah), which is eaten as a grain; thus my confusion. I realized I wrongly assumed while writing that post that just because my family is used to eating something, and I've seen it talked about in health magazines, doesn't mean everyone knows about it. Slap on wrist.

A mini bio, then, on my little buddy of a grain:

First of all, quinoa is a leafy plant similar species-wise to beets and spinach, but unlike these veggies, the leaves aren't generally eaten--just the seed, which is cooked in the same fashion as grains like rice and couscous. (So, ironically, my friend was absolutely right in calling it a vegetable, even though it caused me to stare at her blankly for several seconds.)

But quinoa has a definite one-up over these other grains because it has an unusually complete amino acid structure, making it an ideal high-protein choice for vegetarians or vegans or just people like me who shy away from relying too much on the flesh of animals. Plus it's got fiber and minerals and wouldn't ya know!--it's delicious too. Unlike the sometimes dry texture of a grain like bulgur wheat, quinoa is light and fluffy and easy to digest.

Besides nutrition, quinoa are also steeped in rich history. They were first harvested by the Incas and are still grown in the Andes--i.e. in Peru, Bolivia, Ecuador, and Chile. So although this grain is relatively new on the American health food scene, it is ancient to South Americans, who have been eating this "mother grain" (which is what quinoa means in Quechua, the language of the Incas) for thousands of years.

Now, I hope you are thinking "hm, well Kayla where can I purchase this tiny miracle?" and the answer is at virtually any grocery store. There is a downside though--the price for quinoa is a bit steeper than that of rice or bulgur (seems like if you want nutrition in this country, you better expect to cough it up) and it's only increasing along with demand. I've had my two 12-ounce boxes of quinoa for months--*cringe* shows how much I cook--and honestly cannot remember how much they cost, but I did a little calculation of what is sold on Amazon (they really do sell everything! hotdamn) and it seems like it's around 5 bucks a pop. But--a little perspective: there are 8 servings per box, thus it's still less than a dollar per serving.

So hold off on that golden arched value menu and buy something you won't wanna throw up 10 minutes later! Your belly will thank you.

chef I am not

Someone asked once, a long long time ago (like a few weeks), whether I cook or not.

The answer is yes and no.

To me, saying "I cook" denotes a pattern, a regular occurrence. Which it is not. Also, to say "I cook" indicates recipes, and ingredients, that result in prepared "dishes". These are rare.

What I do cook, rather, are separate foods, which I often combine post-stove top. Like tonight: I sautéed some tofu in olive oil and soy sauce, boiled some quinoa, and steamed/simmered some collard greens with olive oil, onion, garlic, salt, and pepper.

My cooking is pretty simple. Usually because of lack of time, necessary ingredients, and confidence in my multi-tasking culinary abilities. Thus, I tend toward things that you put in a pot on the stove and let sit and there you go: food.

But honestly, I'd like to get more complicated. I'd like to learn how to cook things that involve lots of spices and ingredients, things like the Indian dishes my vegan friend Ashley makes. Savory things.

Before that happens, I need to find someone to cook for. Because currently my only client is lazy and hates doing dishes.

In My Fridge

There Is Food.

Halloweenie

It's Halloween, which means it's time for all of us to go into diabetic comas.

Not trying to chub up this year? Want to keep your child from acquiring chipmunk cheeks (or teeth)?

Well these two dentists in South Carolina seem to have the answer: Instead of buying candy for kids this year, they're buying it from them--in particular the kinds they don't want--to ship to soldiers in Iraq.

Hey, thanks for being willing to die for me, to show my gratitude I send you stale Good 'n Plenty. Grandma didn't want them this year.

And kiddies, capitalism lesson number one--always take things for free and then sell them at higher prices.

Have a Happy American Halloween!

Pollan's Parameters

As Joel mentioned in a comment on an earlier post, NYT Magazine released its Food Issue this past month, and Michael Pollan has some interesting digital-image-quote doohickeys in addition to his article that I'd LOVE to post on here to stimulate all your visual receptors but I can't. Damn you Adobe flash player for not allowing me to steal things.

Well, synopsis anyway: Pollan asked readers of Well, a health blog on nytimes.com, to tell him their personal eating-well rules. He posted his favorites. Now I post my favorites of his favorites, or parts of his favorites that are my favorites, based on originality, practicality, cleverness and of course humor. Now if only I had a digital design friend to make them artistically competent; alas.

My parents are both from Italy, and one of our family rules was that you could not leave the table until you had finished your fruit: "Non si puo lasciare la tavola fino che hai finito la frutta." It was a great way to incorporate fruit into our diets and also helped satiate our sweet tooths, keeping us away from less healthful sweets.

 (Resisting urge to translate that into Spanish...)

Don't eat anything that took more energy to ship than to grow.

"Make and take your own lunch to work." My father has always done this, and so have I. It saves money, and you know what you are eating.

 The Chinese have a saying: "Eat until you are seven-tenths full and save the other three-tenths for hunger." That way, food always tastes good, and you don't eat too much.

 Avoid snack foods with the "oh" sound in their names: Doritos, Fritos, Cheetos, Tostitos, Hostess Ho Hos, etc.

Never eat something that is pretending to be something else ... If I want something that tastes like meat or butter, I would rather have the real thing than some chemical concoction pretending to be more healthful.

 (Except I don't know if I'm as gung-ho as this lady... she says "no 'low fat' sour cream", so does that mean no skim milk? What is low fat sour cream pretending to be?)

 "When drinking tea, just drink tea." I find this Zen teaching useful .... Perhaps a bit of mindfulness goes a long way first thing in the morning.

 "It's better to pay the grocer than the doctor."

(Or farmer!)


And my favorite, for its realism:

After spending some time working with people with eating disorders, I came up with this rule: "Don't create arbitrary rules for eating if their only purpose is to help you feel in control." I try to eat healthfully, but if there's a choice between eating ice cream and spending all day obsessing about eating ice cream, I'm going to eat the ice cream!

This Laura Usher and I have this in common. These rules are all great for principles and theories but I'd rather refer to them as "guidelines" than "rules". As I've stated before, I think it's the restrictive nature of diets (and their rules) that actually frustrates and inhibits healthy eating.


But to each their own; I'd rather see people talking about healthy eating, even in the context of restrictions, than not talking at all.


Which, by the way--Pollan is still taking suggestions. Have one you want to add? Go to Tara Parker-Pope's blog and post it in a comment. Think another one of Pollan's faves should have made it on here? Let me know. Democracy is fun.

sleight of hand by the FDA

Thanks to Ben for pointing out that I didn't list foods that contain maltodextrin in my original post. While I alluded to vague categories of both sugar-free and energy-boosting foods, I didn't mention concrete examples.

This is partly because I didn't find any lists of this sort online--another missing piece of the maltodextrin puzzle on the World Wide Web.

But from my research I can give you some examples that I found or know from my own brain (my OWN, not Google's; imagine):

Pretty much, anything from a box. Or can. Processed foods. It can be in cereals, chips, fruit snacks, powdered drinks, granola bars. It's a filler and an additive, so it's in snacks, especially ones that are considered lower-calorie or sugar-free. If I listed every food, my eyes would cross.

Following that sugar-free thing, maltodextrin is also the main ingredient in Splenda. So, this little sneaky sugar-free sweetener is not, in fact, devoid of calories, because, as I mentioned previously, maltodextrin has 4 calories per gram. And one packet of Splenda is one gram, so they have around 3 or 4 calories each. From their website:

[T]he bulking agents provide so few calories per serving that the FDA allows the SPLENDA® No Calorie Sweetener Products to be called no-calorie sweeteners, because they provide less than five calories per serving.

No wonder all these "diet" drinks haven't made a dent in the obesity epidemic. In fact, I know we've all heard that they actually make you fat--a statement that has been backed up by research--but do we listen? I don't keep soda in my apartment or drink it that often, but I know that at my sister's house I find myself reaching for diet over regular. Are we now so conditioned to associate "diet" with "healthier" even when we know that's not the case? Who's to blame for this?

Well, if you noticed the subtle acronym in the quote from Splenda, it's the Food and Drug Administraion that allows them to claim that they are calorie-free.

So maybe those girls who tried to sue McDonald's for making them fat a few years ago were aiming at the wrong target.

Decoding the Jargon, pt. i

I'm a label-reader. I stand in grocery stores and hold two similar-looking packages in my hands and study and compare and critique. And I always run into something, no matter how "natural" the product claims to be: ingredients that may as well be written in Chinese. Or gibberish. Because they are, to about 99 percent of the public.

Words that inspire mental images of lab coats and Bunsen burners in chemistry class my junior year of high school, words that I don't want to ingest.

But I do. We all do.

What are these?

So begins a series in my blog, a perhaps and hopefully coherent and followable trail through this mess of personal and journalistic anecdotes. Because I cannot be the only person who wonders what these things are. And wants to know, in layman's (lame-man's?) terms.

To begin, simply because it is the first one I have found on this bag of (organic baked) tortilla chips:

Maltodextrin*

Merriam-Webster, that nice motherly book of definitions, says that it is:

any of various carbohydrates derived from the partial hydrolysis of starch (as of corn or potatoes) and used in prepared foods especially as a filler and to enhance texture and flavor

Ah, yes. Right. Abstract, thank you.

More digging.

Looks like, you cook a starchy plant (usually corn because we live in the United States and corn invades everything), throw in some enzymes and/or acid (like they pre-digest it for you), and you get a very processed, white powdery substance.

Corn --> Cornstarch --> Maltodextrin

It is just a long chain of glucose (simple sugar) molecules, which makes it technically classifiable as a complex carbohydrate (i.e. the carbs found in fruits, vegetables, nuts, grains, etc.) But, those chains are broken down into single glucose molecules in the body. So it is pretty much sugar once our bodies digest it, and has the same amount of calories (4 per gram), but it is not sweet.

And even though our body processes it as sugar, it is not listed under "sugar" on nutrition labels because it is "complex".  It will just show up under the general carbohydrate listing.

For this devious reason, maltodextrin is used a lot as a filler in foods looking to lower its sugar content and also in energy supplements looking to raise caloric levels without adding taste.

Whew, okay, let me just take a deep breath and cool down my brain, because I had to trudge through a lot of suspicious bullshit just to come up with that simple analysis. Curiously, there is not a lot of good info on the web about maltodextrin, at least that seems trustworthy. (I wondered, Should I go get a *gasp* book?) And a lot of it is contradictory.

For example, one article on a website for vitamin supplements says, "During the cooking process, ... natural enzymes and acids help to break down the starch even further." By not mentioning where those enzymes or acids come from, this gives the impression that they just appear, that they come from the food itself. But, I found on other sites words such as applied and used in reference to enzymes.

My intuition is that, much like its representation on the Internet, maltodextrin is a sneaky thing. It is natural in that it comes from a plant. But it only comes about from manipulation of that plant. And it tricks our bodies into thinking it's something it's not... or maybe it's the food industry that tricks us, by labeling it as "complex" when it really is more "simple."

My advice, especially if you are diabetic: watch out, treat it like sugar. Better yet, just use unrefined versions of sugar. At least those are sweet.



*Ironically, maltodextrin does not show up as a recognized word in Blogger's spellcheck. Go... figure.

somebody please reign in that senile old man

Um, okay, while looking for an image to put on that KFC post (yes, a post-post edit), I inadvertently threw up:

In honor of the 60 million (and growing) citizens of Grilled Nation who have tried KFC's new Kentucky Grilled Chicken, KFC issued a letter to the United Nations Secretary General requesting that Grilled Nation "earn a seat" at the international organization's table. The letter also requested that Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon call a special one-hour lunch break so that members of the UN can "UNThink" their usual lunch routine and try new Kentucky Grilled Chicken (KGC).

Seriously? SERIOUSLY? I thought this was a joke at first but I'm pretty sure this is the actual press release so, unfortunately, guess not.

Yes, in a world where people kill each other, kill their neighbors and loved ones, over food, religion, politics, freedom, equality, rights, etc., THIS is the issue the UN needs to be worrying about. Absolutely. Nail on the head, KFC, thanks for  making America once again look AWESOME and totally in tune with reality.

treading through unneccesary anxiety

I'm about to go to Giant Eagle to get some produce, because I didn't buy any when I went grocery shopping at Trader Joe's this week even though I'm out, thinking I would be able to go to a farmer's market this weekend, but I had a hair appointment this morning and by the time I got home to feed my hungry little belly with a quick breakfast, the one in the Strip was closing soon, and I knew I'd hit traffic and would have to pay for parking...... and...... I was sleepy anyway because I got up early for the hair appointment, and I just wanted a quick little nap, it's Saturday for chrissakes---

Blahblahblah, slap me if you will, but the point I want to make is that I'm realizing it's these little inconveniences that make a lot of people (including me today) dismiss buying locally. It's just so much easier to pick up produce where you buy your milk and Eggos and Tyson dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets too. While you're at it, why not throw in your toothpaste and mascara? Why not just shop at Wal-Mart?!

This idea of convenience is one of the main factors that has driven our society to fast foods and super mega-stores, because we simply don't want to spend the time shopping around if we know we can get it cheaper there. And what if you live in a rural area? I know my mom would love to have the abundance of local farmer's markets that I do, but she doesn't (ironically, really) because there's just too much space where she is. She can buy local, but she's gotta hike to do it. And mom and pop shops, or even just alternative grocery stores? Virtually non-existent there. When it comes to food or clothes or anything really, rural areas pretty much just have the big ol' chains. The places I avoid like the plague.

It's like this trade-off  must be in the fine print of the deeds of these big country houses-- "Ah, yes, here you go, have this space, it's nice really isn't it, and so much quieter than those crazy cities, but... oh.... lack of population means lack of stores... and choices... so I hope you really like Red Lobster."

The more I write this the less I want to go to Giant Eagle, even though I can get local there probably (for about twice what I'd pay if I bought it straight from the farmer.) But if I don't go buy fresh produce today, I will have to wait until Tuesday evening, and my stomach starts feeling funny if I go too long without feeding it veggies. And I'm depleting my frozen supplies. And they're just not the same, anyway.

Words that are coming to mind: spoiled, privileged, whiny, lazy, upper-middle class.

I'm going to Nicaragua to study abroad this summer and this is one of the reasons why. To cure the gag reflexes that act up when I think of some of these words.

I may be being overly self-critical right now, so forgive me, but it's because while I feel frustrated by the obstacles of doing the "right" thing, or at least what feels right to me, I simultaneously feel like: for people who don't have the extra money or time or CAR for that matter, to try to buy local, this isn't even an issue. Getting enough food for their family is the issue.

I'm lucky to have so many options. I think I'll still go to the farmer's market Tuesday; I might as well, I can! I'll just buy salad stuff today. So my tummy doesn't hate me.

kentucky fried crap

My first real job was at the Subway in my hometown, where my bosses hated me because I defied their very scientific and mechanical approaches to sub preparation ("Sandwich Artist", the official title of Subway slaves, is a clever misnomer.) Skill-wise, I don't know if I learned much other than How to Be Corporate's Bitch. But at least I can give an insider's account of the behind-the-scenes action at Subway--the fact that the roast beef acquires a rainbow-like sheen when exposed to oxygen, and that a little-followed policy is to charge 25 cents when a customer exceeds his 6 olive slices max--all of which, I found out today, are nothing compared to the skeletons in the closet of Kentucky Fried Chicken.

My co-worker Julius worked at KFC when he was 16, and he let me in on how the crispy little chicken parts get from point A to point B:

The raw chicken breasts, thighs and wings come in a plastic bag that, once thawed, becomes filled with blood. Company procedure dictates that employees must drain the blood  and remove certain gushy excesses before tossing the chicken parts in the fryer, but Julius said that if things got too busy, those inconsequential steps were skipped, and the whole bag was dumped in, blood and guts and all.

(Now, this is one KFC out of 70 zillion, and adherence to policies and procedures may not be uniform, so please don't sue me, scary Colonel man.)

There was no raw meat at Subway, thank god, but there was meat, and it had to be raw at some point. And who knows where the hell it came from. A chicken, presumably, somewhere....

Maybe we should start stamping our foods with "Made in" labels.

world café

transcribed (roughly, with edits) from my journal (like one with PAPER and INK; archaic, I know):

4:58 p.m.

I'm sitting in Taiwan Café, the little Chinese restaurant on the corner of Oakland and Forbes with the front door that opens to a set of descending stairs. Which is kind of creepy and ominous in the way that all basements are, but the sushi and the grinning owner who wants to hear multiple times that you are enjoying your food and the posters on the walls of silly dogs playing cards (like they think they're human! imagine!) are worth it.

Today, about half of the groups of restaurant patrons are Asian, or Asian-American, or Pacific Islander, or from the general or not-so-general vicinity of the Pacific Ocean, and the other half are White, or American, or Caucasian, or European-American-ancestral- hybrids. A couple at a booth directly in front of me is a mixture of these two.

I'm eating an "Alaskan Roll"-- that's salmon from perhaps the Pacific NW, avocado from Central or South America, seaweed from the... sea?, and rice from China. Maybe. All assumptions. While I eat, I read an assignment about the history of food for the class I have at six, rushing to finish the last chapter.

I pick up each too-big bite with chopsticks, a skill I've somewhat acquired since coming to college, and to my right, an Asian girl of indeterminate nationality watches me. I can't see her face but my peripherals tell me there are side-glances, wonder, but my peripherals could be self-conscious and/or paranoid.

A little girl to my left--who appears to be the owner's daughter since she is sitting by herself and seems to have free range to cans of soda--eats rice with a white plastic fork as she swings her feet.

I sit in Taiwan Café and I eat my sushi and I read the words in my textbook: "foods became interchangeable commodities, losing all connection to their place of origin" and I underline it,  look up, and look around, and open my eyes and see, that sometimes books can dim that thing that goes on around us: real life.

exercise excuses

I hate to say it, but I've got to be honest: since I ran that race a couple weeks ago, my workout schedule has.... dwindled. To near-nonexistent. So I told myself last night that I would go running this morning, but then I had troubles falling asleep. I laid in bed this morning for about twenty minutes, half-listening to the painful sounds of KissFM, trying to decide whether I should go running or work on a paper or go back to sleep.
The little voices of reason in my head duked it out over using my time wisely, for things I really need to get done, as opposed to things that aren't really neccessary.

It was then that I realized that if I hadn't been having this useless debate with myself, I'd already be out the door. So I got up and put my shoes on.

I have a problem with keeping up with exercise during both the winter and times of endless school assignments. My brain justifies not working out because I have so many other responsibilities.

But if I stop and really think about it... I spent an hour last night watching Mad Men, something that really is not necessary but a passion nonetheless, so I make time for it. Time that could have been spent writing a paper. I love running and working out, I really do, but I guess the difference in my priority levels is attributable to the fact that watching Mad Men is a passive act (well, sort of, except when I yell at the Don in my TV screen to stop being a wife-cheating douchebag), while exercise is active and thus more strenuous. Maybe I'm just lazy.

But I felt so good when I got back from my run--which surprised me because I thought my hiatus was going to kick me in the ass--that I realized this is not a battle I can let lethargy win. Because the longer you go without exercise, the less vital it seems, the more you forget how good it makes you feel, and the easier it is to push it further back on the mental shelf.

So goal this winter: Don't slack off, stop over-analyzing, turn your brain off and your body on and JUST GO.

Season of the Punkin

October means one thing other than my birthday and Halloween and cold weather and the leaves changing colors:

The Pumpkin.

They're everywhere:

• I indulged in a pumpkin muffin the other week and texted my friend Kelsey to remind her that she wasn't enjoying it with me. (This is a girl who bought a corny Halloween t-shirt because a pumpkin was on it, went to a pumpkin patch and hayride with her boyfriend last weekend and enjoys pretty much any culinary expression of the plant.) She texted back along the lines of: "you bitch I hate you."
• When I look out the window of my bus as it goes down 5th Avenue, the sidewalks and grass and nearly every inch of surface area outside a church are covered with these bulbous orange gourds, and I'm always tempted to yank the cord and jump off the bus to buy one, but then realize this would mean I'd have to tote an awkward, lumpy twenty-pound ball around campus with me all day. 
• Trader Joe's has a special cinnamony, nutmegy pumpkin pancake mix for sale right now that my mom and I made for breakfast this morning. This blogger suggests enhancing the pumpkinness of this breakfast experience with TJ's pumpkin butter... we just topped them with a little cinnamon and brown sugar for fear of turning orange.

This bright, multi-functional plant makes a big appearance every fall, so I thought it only fair to give it a little limelight on my blog. After all, pumpkins are chocked full of vitamins and minerals, particularly the antioxidant beta-carotene, which is converted into vitamin A in our bodies and can help your skin, eyes, and immune system. And they are yummy and can be converted into hundreds of different dishes, as evidenced by the recipe suggestions of these pumpkin-loonies (look, Kelsey, a club you can join.)

So go support a farmer and buy some pumpkins from a local patch and carve them up and roast the seeds and make a pie and enjoy the bounties of one simple little squash. And watch the Pumpkin King in the Nightmare Before Christmas while you're at it (and invite me because I know the words to all of the songs and will murmur them under my breath until you punch me in the arm several times.)

so we get free food, right?

The other week I attended a lecture on food for a global studies course (and I haven't written about it yet? Yeah. I know. Shoot me.) and the hippie lady who spoke focused on food as a right. As in a government is obliged to provide sustenance for its citizens. Simultaneously, I'm reading about how feudal lords and aristocrats from China to France stored surpluses for distribution to the poor during famines way, way back in the day when "lord" didn't necessarily signify Jesus and peasants clapped coconut halves together for lack of horses or other viable transportation.

So what about now, in an age where the term "McDonaldization" is taught in college classes? Is food a right or a commodity? Should it be one or the other?

All this talk about the right to food came into context when I read an article called Tent City, in which a journalist lived amongst homeless people in an encampment of tents to try to gain a better understanding of them, their lifestyles, how they came into this situation, etc. While exploring the site, he came across what appeared to be the nucleus of this "city", something called Poverello House (or "the Pov"):

Free meals were available here, no questions asked. [...] At times the existence of the Pov seemed like a kind of miracle of clear-sighted, unconditional generosity. At other times, it seemed like a gigantic enabling machine: The free food supplied by the Pov seemed to be the main reason for the existence of the [tent city].

This brings up a lot of complex welfare-related questions that I (and everyone else, it seems) can't answer. But I do want to address it in reference to this concept of food as a right, and what this might do to people's will and drive to satiate hunger: If we don't have to buy or work for food because it is provided for us by the government, what does this do to our view of it? What does it become? Does it lose its value, in the way that cheap, instantaneous bagged meals handed from a hole in a wall have often replaced Sunday pot roast family dinners? If we're not working to provide for ourselves in a basic sense, but don't have the means (whether economic, social, mental, what have you) to strive for what some sociologists say is the next step: abstract self-fulfillment-- what are we working for?

I don't know, but something tells me it might be drugs. Which makes me think we (the big-wigs, the little man; everyone) should reevaluate our priorities. But, there are cases in which egalitarian distribution of food has not had detrimental consequences. Take, for example, the !Kung San (better known as the Bushmen, or to me, prior to taking an anthropology class, as the clicky tongue people), a hunter-gatherer tribe from Africa that still exists today (although in a slightly Westernized sense). These people survive(d) on roots, plants, and precious few game that they could kill with bows and arrows, and distributed their food equally amongst all members of the tribe.

So, in a way, to them food was a right, as in no one should be excluded from partaking in a feast just because they weren't directly responsible for killing or digging the main course. But, all members (except children) contributed in some sense to the cycle of these peoples' society, so it didn't matter; they did their part somewhere else.

Now, I'm aware that our society is vastly different from that of the !Kung, but my point is this: handing out food isn't teaching anyone the value of it. So in that sense I don't think food should be a right. But if some kind of exchange takes place--not necessarily monetary, because I understand, in the limited sense that someone ingrained in the the middle-class only can, that a capitalist society doesn't always make room for everyone--but if they have to do something for that food--wash their dishes afterward, serve it to someone else, anything!--wouldn't that make them see it as something worth fighting for?

Maybe I'm being too harsh; I mean, these people have been through enough, let 'em have a free meal! Or maybe I'm being naive by assuming all people can or will fight for something they really want (or in this case, need). But it just seems to me that if one country has an obesity epidemic and another (or like half the world) has to deal with starvation and malnutrition, something is fundamentally wrong.

Take your jetpack and leave

When I was a kid, watching the same cartoons my mom watched when she was a kid (and probably in the same position: on floor, on stomach, head in hands), she told me that she had thought the world would be like this by now. (The Jetsons really fucked with the minds of impressionable young baby-boomers, giving them false expectations of flying cars and the ability to steal money from the wallet of your dad without repercussions.)

But it's worth pondering, with all the technological advances we've had in computers and music and movies and telephones and the like, why not in other arenas? Like food? Why can't we press a button and out pops a pill that dissolves into the perfect little army of nutrients that our bodies need? Where the hell are you, science?!

But then again, maybe we do have these new forms of non-natural foods; they're just not in the neat little plastic package we expected. Take for example: energy drinks! energy bars! virtually anything energy related that isn't coffee or tea! I also found an article about food pills (and other futuristic follies) that mentioned food for soldiers, namely MRE's (meals-ready-to-eat) and CM's (compressed meals). Seems one of the only ways to partake in futuristic cuisine is to enlist yourself in mano-a-mano combat.

But really, obviously, if you know me or my blog at all, you will know that I am relieved that pill food did not take off, and, thus, worried about the products out there that are inching towards it. My reasons are many, from scientific to social. First of all, there are aspects of food that just can't be manipulated into a compact package. An article I found about "nutraceuticals", another ploy to present healthful aspects of food in a pill form, states:

The problem, it seems, is that food is too complicated to be stripped down to its chemical components, and that the whole is far greater than its parts. Most nutraceutical studies are done in vitro, not in humans, and a free chemical in a Petri dish behaves far differently than when it is bound to food and sent through the body.

Chemistry aside, there are also capitalist pressures that should make one wary about any food product touting  a plethora of health benefits. As this witty writer for the New York Times Magazine says:

Humans deciding what to eat without expert help — something they have been doing with notable success since coming down out of the trees — is seriously unprofitable if you’re a food company, distinctly risky if you’re a nutritionist and just plain boring if you’re a newspaper editor or journalist. (Or, for that matter, an eater. Who wants to hear, yet again, “Eat more fruits and vegetables”?) And so, like a large gray fog, a great Conspiracy of Confusion has gathered around the simplest questions of nutrition — much to the advantage of everybody involved. Except perhaps the ostensible beneficiary of all this nutritional expertise and advice: us, and our health and happiness as eaters.

 Finally, although the Jetsons are misleadingly posed around a kitchen table, forks in hand, if food really did come in pill form, imagine the loss of the aesthetic pleasures of eating. I mean, what do we all do, whether one is a vegan or lives on a McDiet, when we meet up with friends in the afternoon, a date on Saturday night, extended family on the holidays, Mom or Dad or Son or Daughter or Wife or Husband at home every evening? We eat. Snack. Feast. Nibble. Nosh. Taking a pill makes hunger and nutrition seems like a medical malady, something that needs to be cured. It's not; it needs to be satisfied, with real, whole foods.