Posts tagged food
citizen kerry
Someday i'm going to understand America. Until then, I have this blog.
I hope your weekend is as delightfully bonkers as this mac-and-cheese pizza. @ Krunch Pizza Bar
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accidentally discovering the loving world of gluten-freevangelists
Recently I wrote a mildly inane post about a book called Wheat Belly, which I said was embarrassing to read in public. It wasn’t because of the content, which I loved. In fact, I am now experimenting with giving up wheat. Two wheeks (ha) so far, and my skin has cleared up for the first time in months.
What’s mildly uncomfortable about reading Wheat Belly on, say, a crowded train from D.C. to New York, is that, if you don’t know it’s about overcoming chronic illness or disordered eating habits, it just looks like I’m reading a hardcover book about how to flatten my tummy. After all, the tagline is “Lose the wheat, lose the weight.”
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Are any of you “off the wheat”?
Sidenote: can you think of a more embarrassing book to read in public than Wheat Belly? I can’t, and my bar is pretty high: I read Why Men Love Bitches on the F train.
When my cousin Roro told me about Wheat Belly, I thought, “Oh jeez, another fad diet proclaiming a major food group to be the devil! Been there, done that! No thanks, South Beach Redux!”
But I read it anyway, because Roro has great taste and keeps me hip to current events (like, now I know about Sophia Grace). And I was intrigued by the book’s thesis, which is that wheat as we know it has been so genetically modified hybridized that it’s out-paced our ability to digest it.
Also the timing is funny because Roro was the third fourth in a series of friends (who are not-BS-y and don’t know each other) to tell me about big life improvements that resulted from giving up gluten. Others regained the ability to walk, overcame chronic fatigue, and cleared up skin issues. (Bonus: they all lost weight, but that wasn’t the impetus.)
I love when people uncover connections between how they eat and how they feel bad! So clearly I’m open to this. What do you think? Does this mean I can blame all my issues on gluten instead of blaming them on teachers’ unions or evolution???
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This week, I had the good fortune to go to a dinner with a monk, a lawyer, and an entrepreneur. I like saying it that way because it sounds like the setup to a joke. But it’s true, and we had great food and conversation, and at one point we all watched a Clay Shirky Ted Talk. Fun times!
You might think that I’d have *something* profound or even thoughtful to share from this soiree. But no! Instead I want to tell you about coconut water. Earlier, I’d stopped at Westerly Natural Foods Market, because my one task was to bring coconut water to the dinner party. A guy there asked if I wanted the “big stuff” or the “best stuff.”
Guess which one I picked?
**UPDATE** I will tell you because neuroticrob and livinlifedaily say the bottles look big. (I can’t take pictures well; these bottles are teensy.) I picked the “best” because I was like, “Doesn’t it all taste the same? BRING IT, FANCY COCONUT WATER.”) And this brand was a hit! The best I’ve ever tried. And thus, the only tip I have to impart from a dinner with a spiritual leader and smart friends is this: if you’re in the market for really expensive water, I highly recommend Harmless Harvest.
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let’s give paula deen a year, y’all
I’ve been fascinated by the reactions from friends, celebrities, and other coastal liberals to Paula Deen, ever since her announcement that she has Type 2 Diabetes and is endorsing a medication to treat it.
There seem to be two general responses to this:
1) That’s too bad—hope she uses her platform for good!
versus:
2) That fat fuck finally got what she deserved. How dare she make us sick and profit from it?
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the pantry of an ironman champion
One of the most inspirational people I know is a professional triathlete named Hillary Biscay. This could sound surprising because I don’t do triathlons. Pretty much the only cardio I get is when I wake up in the morning and leap to check Rich and Chelsea’s blogs. The reason I know and adore Hillary is that we grew up together, carpooling to swimming, and she’s been one of my best friends since we were eight.
Normally I am skeptical of athletes and don’t find them inspirational when they talk about how worked hard or didn’t make the Varsity team on the first try, or whatnot. It’s like when models tell you how awkward they were in high school—as if that’s what made them beautiful later—because usually the truth is just that they are genetic wonders, which is actually kind of depressing.
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fat, sick, and nearly dead
If you’d told me when I was a little kid that I’d grow up and be the kind of person who spends $6 on juice, I would’ve hated you. Of course, you would have been right. When you overthink juicing, which obviously I do, it can seem too precious and privileged. No food for me, thanks. I’m cleansing.
And I swear I was not looking for reasons to rationalize juicing when this weekend I watched Fat Sick, and Nearly Dead. It’s a documentary about two obese men who do a 60-day juice cleanse. They lose over 100 pounds and drastically reduce their cholesterol and blood pressure levels, as well as their dependency on prescription drugs (to treat an auto-immune disease).
GAWD I LOVE A GOOD TRANSFORMATION STORY!
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The day I’m tired of food puns is the day I’m tired of life.
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On a scale of to 1 to 5, aren’t these cookie-cutters-in-the-shape-of-yoga-poses a 10? If you really want to chuckle, check out Warrior 1, the green cookie in the bottom right-hand corner. It’s so earnestly reaching up to the sun!
They’re from a company called The Kitchen Yogi, and I just bought them for my sister Coco and my cousin Caroline. It could seem weird to post about their Christmas presents here, since they sometimes read this. However, I know that my sister, like me, believes that happiness is anticipation. (I’m not sure Caroline’s position on this, but I’m hoping it’s in her DNA, too.)
I also think these would be lovely for the tumblr known as marscapone.
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This is what my 26 hours in London looked like—mostly I saw food markets in Brixton and Greenwich. I love how there’s no country more obviously similar to the US than the UK, and yet, a quick walk after a relatively short flight still reveals tiny icebergs of cultural differences. Like the Pound and mulled wine and a giant pig head for sale. (Really, this entire post is an excuse to do something with that pig-head picture.)
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what comes after wtf?
Protein ketchup, from Sky Mall. “With 15 grams of protein, zero fat, and two servings of tomatoes in every “dipper-style” one-ounce cup, Protein Ketchup delivers the taste and mouthfeel you expect, with the nutrition you want.”
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You hope and you wait and you pray that one day you can have good conversations with yogurt.
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i know diwali’s not a competition …
But if it were, I think I could win with this beauty from Cakes n’ Shapes.
I’m so excited to bring it to a Diwali party.
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foodie insanity (aka: wait a second, frank bruni)
I’m desperate to discuss Frank Bruni’s column in the NYT this week, Dinner and Derangement!!! I have some issues with it and want to bounce them off you. (Apparently, I’m the only American who feels this way, judging by the 158 loving comments and the glowing write-ups on other blogs I adore.)
Basically Frank Bruni went to a pretentious new restaurant called Romera, where he was given flavored waters and instructed to smell them and “make a memory.” The place charges $245 per person, and that’s before tax, tip, or drinks.
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i finally went to smorgasburg
Chances are you already know about Smorgasburg, the ”food flea market” in Brooklyn, if you read one article from the NYT this summer. Every donut/popsicle/soda the paper recommended was from there. And for good reason! Everything’s a delicious bargain! As one of my friends put it, “they really handcraft the crap” out of everything.
I went there on Saturday with Aarthi, Suds and Heather. Here I am, wearing terrible CVS sunglasses, eating an ice cream sandwich.
(“You look like Bono,” Eric said, when I got home and he saw the shades.)
