Fudge Babies: Bad Reaction :(

Last night I caved and made Chocolate-Covered Katie's Fudge Babies. We had to make an emergency run to the grocery store for soy milk, and I picked up some dates and walnuts while we were there. After my nighttime Green Monster I was still a little peckish, so I popped half a cup each of those plus some vanilla and two tablespoons of cocoa powder into my Vitamix. Gathered into balls, rolled in coconut, et voila.


They were really yummy! Very fudgy and sweet. I had difficulty just eating one and putting the rest in the fridge (despite what Katie says, these are very calorie dense and must be approached with caution. Treat it like peanut butter: good for you, but only a bit at a time!)

Then, this morning, tragedy struck. I woke up feeling very sick to my stomach, and had absolutely no appetite for breakfast. The thought of oatmeal, cereal, even pancakes was unappealing. But I knew I had to eat something, because the sickness probably came from a bizarre drop in blood sugar. I opened the fridge and saw my sandwich baggie of fudge babies, and was hit by a huge wave of nausea. No other food induced as strong a reaction; it appears my body has rejected the fudge babies! Now I'm not sure what to do with the rest. Keep them and see if I have the same reaction tomorrow?

I sipped some strong black tea to calm my digestive system, then nibbled at the safest dish I could think of:


Scrambled eggs and a crossless hot cross bun. No vegetables, no cheese, no fancy seasonings--just two eggs, a little water for fluff, in the pan for two minutes. Sometimes you need simplicity.

I wasn't in any condition to exercise, so I spent the morning depleting my bank account. Sweetie needed new pants; Luna C. tore one of his last remaining pairs and he was forced to wear jeans today. He hates jeans. Almost as much as he hates long-sleeved shirts or anything with logos. So off I went to Kohls to pick up two pairs of khakis. By the way, either Kohls isn't doing too well right now or the fashion industry totally rips women off. Seriously. The men's dress pants were on sale for about $35, and Sweetie's khakis were $20 each. I fall to my knees in rapture if I found a shoddy pair of capris at Target for $25. I cry foul.

Anyway, afterwards I had about twenty minutes before I needed to head across town to work, so I went to the Shoe Carnival to see if they had any good walking shoes to wear on our trip in May. I plan to wear breezy skirts and dresses, but all the sandals I have are vastly inadequate for running around all day. I don't want our vacation photos to feature me in flouncy shifts + clunky running shoes, so I was hoping to find something both comfortable and mildly stylish. Enter the Grasshopper Bayside Sandal:

I am not one to be blown away by shoes. I prowl the aisles cautiously, looking for signs that advertise prices under $20, loitering particularly close to the clearance section. But when I slipped these on out of curiosity, it took me all of 30 seconds to put them back in the box, rush to the counter, and willingly forfeit my $37 including tax, because I knew instantly that I will be wearing these a lot. I used ten of those thirty seconds to do a little jog through the store, and know I can run to catch a bus or train if I have to.

I have never, ever worn shoes this comfortable before; even my running shoes have a chafing stiffness to them until I break them in. I imagine this is the feeling people are talking about when they rave over Crocs and Uggs--but these aren't horrendous! The color even matches the jacket I said I would't buy the other day but actually did later because Chadwicks had a new 30% off promotion that equalled the savings of the free shipping offer (sorry Mom).

I dropped the purchases off at the apartment on my way to work, where I partook of another simple meal to pacify my still not-quite-happy stomach.


Canned split pea, a gala, and another hot cross bun. Yes. I had a bread product for two meals in a row. This is very strange for me. There was a time in my life that I would be perfectly happy eating toast for breakfast, a sandwich for lunch, and a pizza bagel for dinner. Now it just seems wrong. It's like singing Christmas carols in February, or waking up to an alarm clock on a Saturday. That's just not how the world is supposed to work. Plus, now I'm out of rolls.

Calculating

As I was snacking on one of my cranberry almond energy bars today, I wondered how it compared to "official" energy bars. Michael Pollan would cringe, but I have a keen sense of competition when it comes to food reductionism. I couldn't resist punching my ingredients into this Sparkpeople Recipe Calculator. I could have done it by hand, but I was too lazy to keep track of all those numbers on Excel. Here's what the program spat out:


Not bad, I say! 205 calories is the perfect number for my snacks (and actually, that's no accident; I did a rough estimate in my head before I decided how many servings would come from the batch of bars). I'm trying to rely less on calorie counting, and if I know all of my snacks are about the same size I'm less inclined to stress over it. Admittedly, that total fat is a little on the high end at 13% DV based on a 2,000 calorie diet, but almost all of it is the good kind. Only 0.05% DV for saturated fat, which is a heck of a lot better than you'll find on some other commercial bars (Balance Bars have 3.5g, as does the PowerBar Protein Plus). The calculator also gave me some vitamin/mineral estimates:


Eh--I wouldn't count on it to replenish a missed serving of veggies, but it does have some impressive Vitamin E, manganese, magnesium and thiamin counts, thanks to the almonds and flax seed.

I hunted down some comparisons from companies that use the same basic process for bar-making (i.e. no crazy polydextrose and corn syrup ickiness; mostly nuts and fruit):

Clif Bar (Cranberry Orange Nut Bread)

Larabar (Cherry Pie)


Odwalla Bar (Berries GoMega)

I beat all of them in fiber and sugar content, except for the Odwalla! What what. I'm low on protein in comparison to the Clif Bar, because they use a lot of soy ingredients. And of course I'm lower on calcium, because I couldn't add the powdered milk in Ellie's original recipe (and I don't have the luxury of adding calcium carbonate like the Odwalla folks do).

Overall, I think I did well. But I didn't need the calculator to tell me that; one of my central health tenants is that you just know when something is good for you. Numbers just give me bragging rights.

Blueberries and Homemade Energy Bars

Well. It turns out that the whole question of whether or not to buy the Chadwicks clothes was moot, because when I went back on to buy them today, I found that the free shipping offer had expired. Instead, they had a "$25 off your $75 order" offer. Naturally, that $75 does not include the exorbitant shipping charges, so it's really $25 off a $90 total if you hit the $75 mark precisely. Since I don't want to play that game, nor shell out $55 for a single dress and jacket, I'll be roaming Target and Goodwill for the time being (I can hear my mother's sigh of relief 2,000 miles to the west).

Back to planet Earth, and the rightful realm of this blog. Today we address blueberries and energy bars, two great loves of the foodie blogosphere. The blueberry bandwagon is filled past capacity, prompted, I assume, by the sudden bursts of sunshine that are playing hard to get around here (Tuesday: "Hi, I'm Spring! Let's get to know each other." Wednesday: "I do like you, but I'm a busy girl." Friday: "Y'know what? We're going to have to take a rain check on that weekend date. Call me. We'll set something up for May.")

Since I'm a lemming when it comes to produce trends, I bought a bag of the berries epigynous fruits yesterday. I used a few on that fruit salad, but now I'm not sure what to do with the rest. It seems like a waste to relegate them to smoothie land, and I don't want to do the tired pancake/muffin routine like last time. I did try them in oatmeal this morning:


I made my usual bowl of 1/2 cup each oats, soy milk and water, and folded in a handful of frozen blueberries after I took them off the stove. I didn't want to cook them with the oatmeal, because that would give me one big, blue, mushy mess. I liked the result: very fruity and light-tasting, unlike my usual raisin or banana varieties.

Does anyone have any ideas for what to do with the rest? I've looked at recipe collections, but not even Eating Well pulled through. They only offered sauces and dessert bars. Lame.

Speaking of bars, the other half of the title references energy bars, which to most bloggers I read is the packaged snack of choice. Lara, Clif, Kind and other protein-fortified goodies make daily appearances as pre-workout or mid-afternoon noshes. Of course, not on The Amateur Nutritionist, because The Amateur Nutritionist is extremely tight-fisted (see first paragraph). In fact, I think I've made snarky comments before to the effect of "I'd rather stick some walnuts together with pureed dates myself." Well. This morning Kat, and Ellie Krieger by proxy, inspired me to do just that.

The link on Ellie's name goes to a recipe which, of course, I didn't follow. I didn't have all of the ingredients, and frankly don't like some of them (dates are too sweet, unsalted sunflower seeds are blah, and I can't eat powdered milk) but I took the base idea and made my own flavor-packed batch:

Cranberry Almond Bars
-1 cup old fashioned oats
-1/2 cup milled flax seed
-1/4 cup whole wheat flour
-1/2 cup raw almonds
-1 cup original Craisins
-cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger
-1/3 cup honey
-1 egg
-apple juice

I loaded all of the ingredients except the last three into the "Dry Container" of my Vitamix.


Pulsed for a minute or two...


...and completely obliterated the mix. Oops. The Vitamix might be a bit overpowered for this...next time I'll leave out half of the oats, nuts and dried fruit and mix them in by hand for texture.

I poured the powder into a mixing bowl and added the egg and honey. Note: spraying the measuring cup with Pam before pouring out the honey was genius on my part.


Since I omitted the dates and cut down to one egg, the mixture wasn't quite sticky enough. I added apple juice by the tablespoon until it clumped together. I used the spatula to press it into a 9x9 inch pan, because that's the only square kind I have, and baked the lot for 20 minutes at 350°. While they were still warm, I cut the mass into 9 bars.


By some miracle, I resisted tasting one until they had properly cooled.


Well, it wasn't much of a miracle. I wanted to run, and I didn't want to have a nutty fruity lump sitting in my stomach while I did. I set them in the fridge and sampled one after dinner with a cup of peppermint tea. Holy cow. The reviewers of Ellie's recipe had complained about blandness, but this was anything but. I think I can attribute that to the substitutions of cranberries and honey for the other fruits and maple syrup. It was very dense and slightly crunchy (I think I could have taken them out of the oven after 15 minutes, and might next time). I anticipate greatly reduced hunger between the hours of 3 and 5pm for the next week--they should do a much better job of holding me over than those measly Wheat Thins or the muffins/cookies I've brought in the past.

And when I tire of cranberries, there are many flavoring possibilities. I could use walnuts and dates with a little cocoa powder for a bar-form of Fudge Babies. Dried peaches and pecans would give them a summery Southern flair. For the plane ride to Tokyo, I could make a batch with dried mango, papaya and pineapple with flaked coconut folded in. It won't exactly be cheap, but it's probably a better deal than $1.49 for 1.6 ounces of the pedestaled Larabar.

Fruit Salad and The Dress

Well, the "something snazzy for dinner" didn't quite work out. After all of my errands, I had pizza with Sweetie at two o'clock, then clung onto consciousness for another hour before conking out on his lap while he explored the green fields and slaughtered the towering beasts of Pulse in Final Fantasy XIII. When I woke up at 6, I putted around for a bit before realizing that I was starving. And that I didn't feel like coming up with something new or interesting. Out came the bag of Ling Ling potstickers.


As they were cooking, I thought I should at least put some effort into making this a meal instead of a smattering of appetizers. So I sliced up half a banana, half a gala apple, and a handful of strawberries, doused everything in lemon juice and threw a few frozen blueberries on top.


Yes, frozen blueberries. I was too lazy to even thaw them first. Fortunately, they soften very quickly on their own, so by the time I was finished with my potstickers they were practically squishy.

Enough jabber. Let's get on to what really matters in life: fashion. While I was picking up the new sheet set, I poked around the mall for the blazer I mentioned this morning. The only sort-of-kind-of option I found was a jacket from the Sears clearance rack, but it had a bizarrely enormous collar and the arms hung past my fingertips. There are many times I appreciate being petite, but shopping for jackets is not one of them. So I picked up the sheet from Target and was about to head out to the check-out line when a rack of dresses caught my eye. I checked the price tag--an acceptable $25. Into the dressing room I went.

And then I had it: the legendary Dress Moment. That fairy-tale thing in wedding shows and makeover shows when the woman looks in the mirror and gasps, "I'm beautiful!" I literally had to swallow giggles of glee as I twirled around and checked every angle. There was nary an unflattering bump or immodest gap. My mood may also have been improved by the knowledge that the tag had the letter "S" on it. Vanity sizing really does stroke your vanity :D After dinner Sweetie conducted a photo shoot.




Notes for future impromptu photo shoots: (1) Put on makeup. (2) Brush hair. (3) Take off socks >.>

Now. The question remains: now that I've bought one spring dress, should I buy the Chadwicks selection anyway? Here's what I had in mind:


$20, knit polyester/spandex, machine washable. Along with this jacket:


$25, cotton, also machine washable. I don't mind the price because with the two together, I get free shipping, and I need a nice jacket anyway. But I have been spending a lot on "wants" lately. The new shirts, the popcorn machine (which hasn't arrived yet)...and even if I hadn't, the "needs" are ever-present. We were able to negotiate down a $20/month rent increase to only $10/month, but the total still takes up half our income. And then there's the matter of finding employment after April, and I haven't received any word on financial aid for tuition. Sweetie says to go for it, since after this I wouldn't buy much of anything else until next winter. At the very least, I should sleep on it until April, when my Discover card 5% Cash Back Bonus for "Home and Fashion" purchases kicks in.

Busy Busy Day Ahead

On my To Do list:

-Pharmacy. This morning I just realized that the reason I've been paying double for my meds is not because my insurance won't cover it--though that's part of it--but the dang RN prescribed the private label instead of the generic version like I asked! There are only two months left anyway, but next time, I read the piece of paper before I leave that office.

-Recycling center. I have to stomp down all those soda bottles to fit into bags first...ugh.

-Pet store. Why does she eat so much? She's an indoor cat!

-Grocery store (perishables and non-food items only; I'm still working on those cupboards)

-Mall 1: Bedsheets. At least I understand why she tears around so much and rips holes in everything. She is not meant to be an indoor cat. "Yuna," the cat we presumably adopted from the shelter, was. But the cat that came with the papers was not Yuna, as we perplexedly discovered when we took "her" to the vet, who poked around and discovered something that shouldn't be there! "Yuna" turned out to be "Arrow," who was not the "calm indoor cat who loves to be held" we signed up for, but a rambunctious stray. She/he is cute as a button, so we kept her/him, but gosh I hope the next set of sheets lasts longer than this did.

-Mall 2: Clothes! I need a new lightweight jacket. I only have three options for outerwear: a fluffy white wintery thing, an enormous purple overcoat, and a windbreaker three sizes too large. Well, I also have some beautiful silk numbers from Singapore, courtesy of my mother, but they're reserved for special occasions. I've been pining for a proper librarian-like blazer and/or cardigan for some time now, and while I do have some options selected from Chadwicks I should check out the local clearance racks and thrift stores before hitting "Checkout."

-Finish my Bucket List. Which is just another really, really long To Do list.

Well. It seems that my oatmeal has finally settled in my stomach, so it's time to tackle those bottles. I'll try to come up with something snazzy for dinner and put up a food-related post later today.

Hot Cross Buns (minus the cross)

When other people think of Easter, they probably think of cream-filled chocolate eggs, food-coloring-and-sugar-coated marshmallows in the shape of Peeps, jelly beans, and hollow milk-chocolate bunnies. I think of hot cross buns. This is particularly odd, because I never ate hot cross buns growing up. I ate all the other stuff. I'm pretty sure my mother came home with a carton of hot cross buns from the grocery store one year and told me it was an Easter specialty; I took one bite of the candied citrus and spit it out.

And yet, when I think of Easter, I imagine spiced, raisin-studded sweet rolls. Maybe I saw a picture of them in a cookbook during my impressionable years. Maybe that first band song we played when I picked up flute in the fifth grade is irrevocably stuck in my unconscious. Or all this time baking and blogging has warped my thought process. Who knows. The point is, I've been wanting Hot Cross Buns ever since I saw the display of unnaturally colored stuffed rabbits at Kroger.

On Wednesday, I looked up some recipes, but they all required work. Instead, I decided to just use my own instincts for sweet breads and adjust along the way. I also decided to make my buns cross-less, for two reasons. Firstly, I'm not Christian. Even if I was, don't you feel strange eating something meant to symbolize an ancient method of torture and execution? Secondly, icing doesn't freeze well. So unless I was going to devour an entire batch of bread in one night, they'd have to go "dry."

Tamara's Hot Cross Buns
-1 cup light soy milk, warmed
-1 medium egg, lightly beaten
-1 tablespoon butter (or I Can't Believe It's Not Butter Light, if you have a death wish like me)
-2 cups white whole wheat flour
-1 cup bread flour
-1 teaspoon salt
-1/4 cup sugar
-1 tablespoon yeast
-cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger to taste (to me this means, "dump in the whole dang bottle," but others might have nicer spices that cost more than $1 per container)

I added all of the ingredients to the bread machine in that order, then let it go through one kneeding cycle. Before it started the second, I added a half cup of raisins and made sure they were incorporated through before the dough finished rising. When the machine beeped, I separated the dough into 8 balls and used scissors to cut a "cross" into the top of each, in case I wanted grooves to ice later if I changed my mind about the agonizing death thing.

They went into a 350° oven for 15 minutes, and survived about 2 before one was ripped in half for a bedtime snack.




They're lovely lunch accompaniments and might even make a good base for some simple sandwiches. Of course, you could also slather them in sugar and eat them for brunch, as they were originally intended. Just make sure you get some of those dyed hard-boiled eggs in your stomach as well, or with all those Cadbury's and sparkly baby chickens you will be looking at one miserable 2 o'clock pm.

Cupboard Cleaning: Chicken Orzo and Hot Fudge Sundaes

It has been one busy, busy day at work. After two hours of goinggoinggoing, I finally have a moment to scrabble together a post for today!

I mentioned yesterday that I was on a cupboard-cleaning mission. The incentive comes from two sources:

(1) The powerful drive to spring clean. Growing up in California, I didn't understand why people would clean in spring more than they did any other season, but after a very long snowed-in winter letting Goodwill bags and recyclables pile up, I know first-hand why people in less-than-perfect climes wouldn't bother getting the vacuum out of the closet until March.

(2) The Japan trip. It's coming up in about one month, and I don't want to come back to spoiled vegetables in the fridge or a swarm of ants in my snack shelves!

Yesterday was the first major endeavor to use ingredients I usually ignore. I started by putting a random mix in the crock pot before work:

-9 frozen chicken tenderloins (about 13oz.)
-1 large carrot, diced
-1 can butter beans, drained
-2/3 cup orzo
-a box of chicken broth

At work I made my afternoon snack the one last packet of instant peach oatmeal leftover from my microwavable breakfast college days (I graduated last May...it's a good thing there's enough preservatives in those to survive Armageddon). I came home to this:


We stirred in chili powder and black pepper for kick, plus garlic powder into Sweetie's because it's the one spice he can detect >.>


It was supposed to be a stew, but it came out like a savory porridge. Putting the pasta in at the beginning was probably stupid, but I didn't want to have to come home, add it, and wait another half hour before dinner was ready. So instead of "fluke" I prefer to think of it as "hearty" :D

For dessert, I polished off the final square of a bar of Ghiradelli Twilight Delight that has been open for some time, along with the last of a tub of fat-free whipped topping, for a genius hot fudge sundae. I microwaved the chocolate for 45 seconds until it melted, then stirred in the topping...


Dolloped over ice cream...


...and dug in! Bitter, sweet, creamy and sticky. A few bits of the bar remained un-melted for a little crunch at the end. After dessert I prepared a week's worth of Hot Cross Buns Minus the Cross to use up some raisins (and because I've eaten all the baked goods in the house). I'll post the recipe tomorrow.

This morning I kept up the theme by emptying my box of bran flakes and starting on another of Shredded Wheat that technically expired in 2009. I won't say which month. But those things are durable, and with a topping of strawberries tasted fresh as a newly opened bag. (work with me here).


For lunch I barrelled through leftovers.


The chicken orzo was actually much better the second day, though I don't see any reason why it should be. I didn't eat that apple because the "soup" and bun filled me up, but I'll probably have it with my Wheat Thins 'n Hummus later this afternoon.

I think I'm doing pretty well so far. Now, if I can incorporate potatoes into meals a couple times a week for the next month, use those frozen bags of peas and tilapia, and find a use for that can of pumpkin (oh so difficult, I know), I'll be golden.

Kitchen Gadgets

Last night, I really wanted popcorn. But I couldn't have popcorn, because Sweetie wouldn't let me. "It would make you sick," he said, and I hmphed and pouted but couldn't deny that. Those lovely Orville Redenbacher butter-flavored single serving bags used to be my afternoon delight of choice, but I can't tolerate them anymore because they're covered in milk solids. Damn lactose. So sad, because sometimes the only crunch I crave is that of a warm corny puff doused in sodium.

Then I had a moment of brilliance: if I had an air popper, this wouldn't be a problem! Well, duh. Sweetie called his mother to ask if we could have the one he used as a kid, but she doesn't know where it's been for the last ten years. I'm not sure I'd want to use an air popper that was stuffed in the shed for a decade without being cleaned. Therefore, I see a visit to Kmart.com in the near future. I have this one in mind:


Simple, compact, and comparatively affordable.

There's a little problem with this plan, though: where will we put it? The cupboard under my sink is already stuffed with appliances, to the point that I have to keep my blender base on the kitchen table and my bread machine on the floor. The downside of making 95% of my food at home is the abundance of gadgets I rely on to make preparation possible.

I've seen a few posts by other boggers about "Appliances They Can't Live Without" or "The Dieter's Kitchen Saviors" etc. It's interesting to see how other people function each day, with coffee makers and immersion blenders and juicers. Here are the ones I use on a regular basis (no "real" photos, because they aren't exactly pretty):

(1) Vitamix: My mother bought one from Costco when I was in high school, and I used it every day for soups, smoothies, and "ice cream." Because I used it most often, my father helped me high-jack it when I flew to Indiana for college. It still serves me well; especially since I tend to have Green Monsters for dessert these days.

(2) Rice Cooker: Another appliance stolen from my mother, this time with her permission. Unlike more creative individuals out there, I just use this for, well, rice. But we eat rice a lot. I've mastered the knack of juggling between "cook" and "warm" settings to minimize sticking to the pot ^-^

(3) Bread Maker: This little life saver gets tapped an average of two times a week. Once for pizza dough, once for my sandwich loaves/rolls. Sometimes it is recruited for bagels or other treats too. I've only baked bread in it once, and wasn't too happy with the results, but it does a marvelous job of kneading and rising the dough. That saves me a ton of labor and enabled me to swear off store-bought loaves for the past year (ka-ching!)

(4) Crockpot: I don't often use the crockpot, because I have an old model from Goodwill with no removable bowl--just one giant porcelain container that is impossible to clean. But I did use it today! I'm on a mission to clean the cupboards of foods I've neglected before buying more. What better way to do so than to throw a bunch of canned vegetables and boxed pastas in with some meat and broth and come home to a fuss-free dinner?

I also have a lengthy Appliance Wish List going. Electric mixer (standing or hand-held...I'm easy), ice cream maker, deep fryer (Who gave us one, but it's crusted beyond repair. Ugh). A new toaster would be nice, too, because our hand-me-down version is 100% metal so I have to wait half an hour before it's cool enough to put back on its shelf.

There's only one simple way to obtain all of these: Sweetie and I have to get married.

Birthday Eats

I'm a bad girlfriend. I didn't make a fuss about Sweetie's birthday (though I did some plain old fussing of my own), but my weekend has been one big Tamara's-Turning-22 Celebration.

It started on Saturday, of course, with the outing with AMIL, where I stuffed myself with red meat. Then on Sunday, I continued the trend with a sorry-we-couldn't-go-to-Outback-like-I-promised supper:



I tried to fry a homemade Bloomin' Onion to go with these pan-fried 6oz steaks, but...ugh. Just...ugh. You don't want to see the aftermath of that particular disaster. So Sweetie got an impromptu batch of garlic toast and I had a tiny microwaved potato (and an unpictured piece of the soda bread from the Irish Lion).

And yesterday was one long chain of celebratory eats. I started with this beauty:


A Hodgeson Mill multigrain flax & soy pancake made with light soy milk, topped with creamy peanut butter and vegetables...I mean strawberries.

At lunch I campaigned for the return of the World's Best Sandwich:


Turkey, swiss, roasted red pepper hummus and sprouts on a homemade wheat & flax roll. All you salad, wrap, veggie dippers and yogurt people, I commend ye for your dedication, but I need my bread-stuffs after that strenuous 2.5 mile walk in the morning >.>

Finally, the grande repas du jour (I've never taken a course of French in my life, and just stuck together words from an online dictionary, so I'm sure that phrase is all kinds of twisted). Sweetie said, since it was "my day," that I could make anything I wanted. Anything. And he would be forced to eat it. Of course I had to take advantage of the situation. Teeheehee.


Yet more red meat! I normally subsist on tofu and eggs, but one long weekend of carcinogens shouldn't do too much damage, right? I've been craving nikujaga since the first time I made it, but Sweetie nixed it from "The List." He hated the potatoes, he said. It was too mushy, he said. So this time I did make some modifications: I used a half pound of ground beef instead of strip steak, because, well, steak two days in a row would be pushing it; I simmered it for only 25 minutes instead of 40; I only used one potato instead of two (but still an entire carrot); and I left plenty of liquid for a soup to bathe the underlying udon. I heard nary a complaint (not that he would after promising stoicism), but I witnessed him dutifully eat all the carrots and potatos in his bowl! Not that there were many--I naturally took most of the goodies.

You would think all that protein would keep my stomach full for the night, but of course a few hours later there was room for the last lonely slice of birthday cake. I finished the day sipping peppermint tea and watching the latest implausible episode of Jiu Xiang Lai Zhe Ni. Ah, chocolate, Twinings, and Taiwanese singers wrapped in convoluted misunderstandings...what more could a 22-year-old want?

"Before" and "After"

I'm officially 22 years of age today! "22 on the 22nd," emailed my mother in lieu of a tree-killing money-wasting card. According to her, it is a very lucky day, and I was a very lucky baby. Firstly, I'm a dragon in the Chinese zodiac, which brings power and luck. Secondly, I have one sturdy set of matching double digits. I was born in '88, which Wikipedia says is considered lucky because:

The word for "eight" (八 Pinyin: bā) sounds similar to the word which means "prosper" or "wealth" (发 - short for "发财", Pinyin: fā)...There is also a visual resemblance between two digits, "88", and 囍, the "shuāng xĭ" ('double joy'), a popular decorative design composed of two stylized characters 喜 ("xĭ" meaning 'joy' or 'happiness').

So what better time than today to ruminate on joy, prosperity, and my life so far? Since this is The Amateur Nutritionist, I'll focus on the bizarre relationship of these to a universal topic: body weight.

On Saturday, Kristie of Lighter Portions posted about how she had never posted "before" or "after" photos of her weight loss, as is popular with healthy-type bloggers. "Why?" she explained, "I guess mainly out of fear and discomfort...it was a period of my life when I was pretty uncomfortable and unhappy with myself...I guess I just haven't felt confident enough yet to face that image."

So it got me thinking: I've never posted "before" or "after" photos either. Should I? Would I feel embarrassed or ashamed if I put up pictures of myself at 160lb? Would 'revealing it' or 'letting it go' change anything?

Answers: doesn't matter, no, and no. My reasons for forgoing that particular ritual are very different from Kristie's: it never crossed my mind. What was the point? Quite frankly, the ubiquity of "motivating" before and after photos in magazines and ads has a sinister side: it reinforces the idea that body mass is evil and that losing it is the key to eternal bliss. These poor unfortunate souls were miserable when they were large, but now as "thin people" everything is puppies and roses. They were sluggish and too embarrassed to attend parties when they ate cheeseburgers everyday, but now with turkey on whole wheat they lead vibrant, fun-filled lives. It creates a halo around thinness. It encourages men and women to think, "I'd be happy if I could just lose the weight. I can finally do all the things I want to when I'm a size six."

Just to prove I'm not blowing hot air because I'm actually afraid of laying it all out there, I have amassed a couple of "before" and "after" photos here. Summer 2006, age 18, on a final mother-daughter vacation before leaving for college:


Spring Break 2008, age 19 (one week before 20), after walking around campus and cooking my own food for two years:


About two weeks ago, age 21, shopping at Old Navy (from The Single Life post, because I don't have any other full-body shots lying around):


Now, let's think about this. In the first photo, I'm on a gorgeous mountain range around Crater Lake in Oregon, on one of the best hikes of my life. In the second, I'm on a beach on California, building sand castles with my sweetie and looking forward to Disneyland the next day. And in the third, I'm in the artificial lighting of a commercial establishment, agonizing over the purchase of a $5 shirt. You tell me: did my weight loss "journey" (gag) make me happy?

Oh, I'm certainly not unhappy now (well, for the most part, ahem). But the fact that I look pretty in photos is not my greatest source of joy and pride. My life circumstances, my activities, and my goals fuel my happiness. Sure, I like seeing my svelte reflection in the mirror; I like being assured that, barring tragedy, I'll live a long life; I like knowing that when we get off the plane in Tokyo I'll be able to run around the country and absorb every bit without being limited by my "carrots" (it's a Zelda thing). But when we take self-portraits in front of magnificent temples, I'd better be looking at the landmark and not at my figure on the screen of my camera.

So there you have it, some Before and After photos with a little lecture on why they're not "before" or "after" anything significant. I've always been lucky and prosperous regardless :D

The Irish Lion

Last night, Sweetie and I planned to eat at Outback Steakhouse, our favorite restaurant for special occasions. I had picked out a dish from the online menu (6oz. steak, sweet potato, fresh veggies) and he was looking forward to the one time of year I let him dig into a Blooming Onion.

When AMIL (acting-mother-in-law; Sweetie's mom) picked us up and drove us to the restaurant, we found two dozen or so people hanging out on the deck outside. When we went in, a teenager with his shirt half tucked-in imparted the wisdom that we should always call first, because there was a 45 minute wait. Now, we've been to this restaurant on weekend nights before, and they are never that busy. However, this weekend the parents were driving their precious ones back from spring break and had decided to stay in town for dinner. Why, if they were surrounded by local Bloomington restaurants, they would choose to drive across the highway for a franchise, I'm not entirely sure.

Sweetie wanted to stay, and I would have borne it with him, but we were with AMIL and she had a really long, hard day of manual labor. So she drove us downtown and chose the Irish Lion, a pub which, before Monday when Sweetie turned 21, we couldn't have entered.

Immediately after sitting down, AMIL ordered "Blarney Puffballs."


I couldn't eat them, because they were fried and stuffed with cheese, but she and Sweetie seemed to really enjoy them. I had a tiny taste and found that the insides were very, very creamy. They must pulverize the heck out of the potato filling (or the factory does...ahem).

While they ate, I took some shots of the decor:




We were on the balcony of the establishment, which was built 100+ years ago to serve as your friendly neighborhood brothel. Eh, would be shocking, except half the town's restaurants served as "pleasure houses" at one time or another. College-age males have been flocking to Bloomington since 1820, after all.

Neither Sweetie nor I had time to properly select our entrees, since (a) AMIL had been there many times before and knew within seconds what she would order, and (b) the waiter kept coming back after 2-minute intervals to ask if we were ready yet. Both of us selected something quickly under pressure. I said, "Celtic Stew" because it looked safe (from their official menu: "a traditional recipe using lamb, carrots and potatoes"), and he chose the Chicken Kiev at random.

His and AMIL's dinners came with cream of mushroom soup (not photographed) and soda bread:


This "real" soda bread was much different from the stuff I made for myself. Discounting the obvious absence of dried fruits, the bread itself had a lot more added sugar and was very dense. I assume they only used soda, instead of the American cheater's baking powder version.

When Sweetie's plate came, I almost had a heart attack in his place.


And when mine came, I had to ask the waiter to check that there was no cream in my stew, because it was abnormally thick.


I have seen stew. I have made stew multiple times. And while this stew had a wonderful rich flavor and beautiful chunks of vegetables and lamb...that is not what stew looks like. The waiter said, "They must have put in a lot of flour." Yeah. I was eating roux straight-up.

Oh, it tasted great. Phenomenal, actually. I could only eat a few bites before my tongue revolted, though. There were purportedly two cups in there, but my take-out container had about 3/4 cup, and that should have been the bigger half. Still, I wouldn't be surprised if the 3/4 cup I ate had some 600 calories in it. Fortunately, I had skipped my afternoon snack. I just took a look at the refrigerated leftovers, and since it's pretty much a solid mass, I don't think it will become today's lunch as originally intended.

As for Sweetie: like most young men, he has a stomach of steel. However, that stomach has been fed exclusively by me for the past few years, punctuated only by one or two annual outings. So while downing fried cheese balls, then a cup of cream with mushrooms floating in it, followed by a pound of chicken wrapped around a stick of butter and doused in another cup of cream may have been perfectly doable in his teenage years, last night it had some repercussions. He ate every last bite with two big glasses of full-sugar Coke, even though he didn't want to, because "it would be a waste to leave it." At least this way, the food will be converted to fat and muscle in his body instead of compost in the landfill, he reasons. I would rather he forgo the stomachache. His meal was free anyway, since I had brought a discount card AMIL gave to us with a 2-for-1 entree option from the Irish Lion. But the guilt of an uncleaned plate is deeply ingrained within him.

On the plus side, during dinner AMIL slipped Sweetie an envelope with a little surprise: $500! We were expecting $20, $50 at the most. The money is purportedly for our Japan trip, but you can betcha I have more practical uses in mind.

Overall: the Irish Lion was a nice place to visit. Once. On someone else's dime. But unless we ever feel like getting fluthered, I don't think we'll be going back again.

Soda Bread French Toast

What could be better than a crumbly piece of Irish soda bread on a Saturday morning? A piece of Irish soda bread french toast, of course.

It didn't occur to me that I could make french toast with baked goods other than yeast breads, but Mama Pea planted the idea in my head. This morning I gave it a shot.

I had made a second loaf of Irish soda bread since blogging about it last week, because it was all gone by St. Patrick's Day. From this I cut a thick slice, which I soaked in a mixture of one egg and a dab of soy milk.


The egg took longer to seep in than usual. The oil in my pan was burning by the time I was ready for cooking.


My spread: Twining's English Breakfast tea and chemical-happy pseudo-syrup! We all have our little vices.




Numnumnum. The scone-like flavor of the bread was perfectly intact, but the eggs made it moist and substantial. The syrup competed with the raisins somewhat, but that doesn't deduct from the overall marks.

Well. After that decadent breakfast, I don't feel like going out for errands this morning :o I think I'll just enjoy my newly spring-cleaned apartment and work on my "project" (it's a secret project, but you can read about its secret-ness on my librarian blog). When Sweetie catches up on a week's worth of lost sleep (he's been getting 5-6 hours a night because he insisted on waking up at 6am to earn that television...crazy man) I might get off my patooti to deposit and recycle and grocery shop. We might be going out for a big birthday bash tonight, if he wakes up in time to invite his mother and step-father before they make plans!