Hard and Fast

Today I woke up, drank some coffee and - before I could talk myself out of it - I went to my bedroom to unpack. I got through 6 boxes, marginal by anyone's standards, but my room is 6 boxes less crowded and (OMG) I found my bra stash.

I wish I hadn't gone out and bought 2 new bra sets, which almost 3 weeks later have yet to arrive from UK, because if there's any human who never needs to purchase another piece of lingerie, I am she.

For starters, by shopping my closet boxes, I now own 10 "new" sets, most of which are fucking GORGEOUS Empreinte styles. Note: I can only fit into 1 size of Empreinte bra (because they don't sister size and the difference between cup and band sizes is so bespoke that it fits or it doesn't). My Empreinte moment, which lasted near a decade, came to an end a few years ago when my body shape changed. Due to a reversal of shape change - I mean, I do not have the shape I did at 35 but I prob have the same general volume - I've got me some fine new bras!

Y'all know I'm more of a minimalist than average (if not at all a true minimalist), but I am SO not down with Marie Kondo. I did not read the book (who needs to, every article on the planet has precis-ed it into oblivion) because I do not like being told what to do. Do I need some lady who's likely half my age to tell me that if something doesn't bring me joy I should chuck it immediately??

Today I put practically all of my clothing at the back edge of the closet because none of it fits. I have suits I spent a thousand bucks on gathering dust because they're a couple of sizes too big at this point. There is no fucking universe in which I'm going to ditch that clothing because I may need it again someday and it's a) very well made and b) stuff I'd prefer not to replace on the basis of potential short-sightedness.

Be mindful of your wardrobe because you are an evolving being and it's every bit as much fun to find new things in your closet as it is to go out and buy or make them. In fact, in some ways it's more fun cuz it's free.

After this energetic spurt, I went to do some yoga (man, that room is a beautiful studio), hand-washed a bunch of things (how I missed my 2nd floor, flat railing that doubles as a clothing rack) and put together my week of supplements (albeit a truncated version of the old regime).

When I went to the rental, I opted not to do any of the regular self-care things I had done prior to the move, which was counter-productive in many ways but, hey, I was struggling. Of course, to counter-balance this, my diet changed radically (which no doubt, has helped my inflammation in the ways that all of the sacrificed elements of the regime do too), but I must be vigilant to side-step pain, and that, my friends, I most certainly have not been.

Since returning to my real house (construction zone though it is), I am back to body scrubbing, supplements, yoga and making my own potions. I did cook in the rental house - and I had a lot of fun re-engaging with that skill. But, not-fun fact, the cabinets in my new kitchen are my greatest reno disappointment - though I'm confident it will be set right, one way or another - because, while the kitchen's super well-designed (by me, I might add) and gorgeous to look at (superficially), the finishing is shit. It's awesome till you try to open the cabinets and drawers and then the flaws become entirely evident. I'm not going to dwell on this because dwelling is my kryptonite, but cooking has been challenging because it means I have to, well, open all the cupboards.

To switch gears, a few posts ago, Barb told me about a new book she read that changed her way of eating. The marketing-forward title didn't grab me - it's called The Obesity Code and it's by a Toronto diabetes specialist named Jason Fung - but I listen to my blog friends so I went out and bought it. People - you have to get this book. If you are the skinniest mini in the land, you still need to read it cuz it's not about obesity. It's about blood sugar stabilization and hyperinsulinemia. Obesity is only one of the many fun symptoms of blood-sugar disease - and all of these symptoms are manageable by getting rid of the highs and lows of blood sugar spikes (caused predominantly by eating fiber-free carbs, straight-sugar and processed foods).

Look, I know, this is an impossible sell. You need to do this when and if a) you perceive you need to do this and b) you are ready, potentially, for one of the worst interim periods you can imagine.

But here's the thing. What I got from this book wasn't all the good intel about hyperinsulinemia. I knew that already. What changed my relationship to food, on reading this book, is that I am no longer afraid of forgoing it. Fasting - a concept you know I loath - has become my friend. I'm now able to understand why I've always hated breakfast, large volumes of food, why I've always felt controlled by eating. The less you eat - and the more those meals are stabilizing by being high in fat and protein - the less frequently your blood sugar rises. Sure, we all need food but we need a fraction of what we generally eat, and 99 per cent of us do better eating that food in specific batches i.e. no grazing, within specified windows of time. Once you get rid of the delicious, delicious, druggy-delicious carbs, you don't feel compelled to eat. And you don't need to eat that much to live very happily, without shaking or feeling sick or hungry.

Never say never cuz I've introduced intermittent fasting into my life - corroborating the way I used to want to eat (cuz food made me feel sick, but I didn't understand that the carbs were fucking up my instinct by fucking with my blood sugar), but never managed to achieve.

And it's so not hard. Really. (Well, it's so not hard cuz I've already done the incredibly hard part.)

I eat between noon and 8pm. I generally eat 2 meals. I do not snack. Snacking just raises blood sugar and makes me feel bad. I don't stress about it when this plan doesn't work out but it usually works out. One of the meals may be a large salad with protein and fat. The other is often straight protein with a side of fat. I drink as much booze as I want (wine, natch) and I don't really want that much lately. Coffee and wine are fine, in moderation, cuz they don't spike insulin. It's easy to cook for this diet. There are many gorgeous meals to be had. It is not in any way restrictive. I mean, I eat a zillion calories of fat per day and it all tastes great.

But again, this nutritional overhaul has happened in phases for me. It's had to cuz I'm so freaked out by change. I do not recommend intermittent fasting (of the many different varieties which the book explores) until and unless you ditch the carbs. With carbs, it's impossible.

I love not having to think about food the way I used to. I love not being compelled by my appetite. I love not having to spend as much time or money or energy eating (I know that sounds weird. I wouldn't have expected this from me.)

I have no idea for how long I'll do this. I'm a human being and my life will no doubt introduce things that may require me to manage my diet differently. I may ditch this altogether and "relapse". Addiction is addiction and, while it's hard to come by fentanyl (for example), we all have to eat and everyone's doing it, out in the open, constantly. My relationship to food is profound, non-negotiable, sometimes joyous and other times horrible. It's an expression of who I am, of where I'm at, of what matters to me at any given life-stage.

That's all I got today.

Intuitive

There are different kinds of healthful eaters and I fall into a category that doesn't eat kale. That's actually not true. I eat kale whenever it suits me, which just happens to be rarely. I had a really bad experience with it once so I'm gun shy. What can I say? I'm not a tree-eater. Anything that reminds me of grass or trees isn't going to get my love, unless it's contained holistically in some dish that I enjoy.

I do like quite a few vegetables and vary them in my diet but, honestly, if you ask me about my food impetus, they don't rate. They're a pleasant accompaniment, a reprieve from the substantial.

Moreover, while I believe in eating vegetables for health (though I'm only motivated by desire), and while I know we need to treat this world better and consume less meat, I eat it or fish/seafood pretty much daily, in small amounts.

I'm effectively a person who doesn't eat sugar, processed food, beans (though I flirt with these because I like them) and grains of any description. My wine consumption is regulated, but I've hit a sweet spot.  Oh, and it happens that I'm not super into vegetables.

These factors can coexist and I am, nonetheless, a healthful eater- though some of you may be wondering wtf I actually do eat (read on). But, here's the thing, I've spent a shit ton of time over the past 6 months considering what food resonates. What food gets me off? Because, remember, when I started this thing I was beyond satisfaction.  I inhabited emptiness, or it did me, and everything was cavernously bland.

I'd been such a mess of sugar addiction that it affected my sense of taste. Sure, I'm a food discerner from way back, but there was always a fundamental disconnect between my appetite, my hunger - and the needs of my autonomic body. I was driven by an irrational, semi-regular compulsion to eat sugar in whatever form was easiest.

It sounds really bad when I put it that way...

So I made a decision. In my new landscape, I would only eat food that I want. If the thrill was elusive, my job was to find it. I've undertaken this with sincerity :-)

Foods I love to eat and so I eat them pretty well as much as I want, as often as I want (and I'm not known for my moderation):

• Full fat dairy, theoretically, in unrestricted amounts (but I must remain mindful, in the scheme of things, to ingest this food group in balance with the others - because I could eat only dairy for the rest of my life and, let's face it, that wouldn't really be smart): butter, cream, yogurt, cheese, milk... Cream is my perfect dairy. Sometimes I drink 4 oz of heavy cream at a go, in one form or another. Dairy has a notable effect on my mood, it calms me the fuck down and it makes me happy. I just have to perfect my creme patissiere without grain sugar or flour (but 1 tsp maple syrup) so I can eat it for dinner when the mood strikes - and use it in dessert, natch. With berries. It's high in good mood chemicals, protein and fat. What's not to love??

• Other oils - cuz if I'm going to eat vegetables (and I do appreciate them for their many gifts), they need to be oily. Also, oil is good on or in everything.

• The coconut in all it's forms, but particularly the cream and oil (notice a trend?).

• Meats that are on the more raw vs more cooked side. Preferably salty and saucy.

• Potatoes - but not in large quantities and generally smothered in some sort of fat (or rich sauce). I particularly love roasted and mashed.

• Cacao/Cocoa/Chocolate - Also ridiculous mood enhancer. It tastes like earth and when you mix it with fat, it's soporific. But without sugar, this is a totally different food than any choc bar (even the 80%).

• Pistachio nuts (and I eat other nuts but these are my faves). Really salty or spicy ones.

• Eggs for their spectacular versatility. They give richness to everything.

• Bacon. Look, let's just give this one its own line item and move on.

• Berries, pears, apples, stone fruits - the things that make the best crumbles

• Coffee and wine - in moderation, but only because if I have more than 3 shots of coffee in a day, I start to shake (sad) and when I drink booze as I used to, it makes me feel sick. Note: It would appear, though I didn't realize it at the time, that I used to drink wine as a blood sugar stabilization mechanism. Now that I don't eat sugar, I don't find wine anywhere near as biologically compelling (though it is a beautiful accompaniment to meals).

With few exceptions, I eat for texture first. That's what makes or breaks food for me and rich textures are endlessly pleasurable. Next I taste for umami. Then sweet. With sugar, I want only a tease. I love the dense, fatty, saucy things (in proper proportions). I do live in a cold climate, after all.

Also, I don't love chewing unless I'm in the mood (which is strangely infrequently in the scheme of things). What do all of my faves (soups and sauces and mashed potatoes and mince and scrambled eggs and drinking chocolate and soft cheese and vegetables sauteed in sauce) have in common? You don't have to feel like chewing in order to enjoy them. Note: This isn't about my TMJD for the most part. It's about an undercurrent of physical revulsion at the thought of eating something that must be chewed/absorbed. Yeah, I agree, it's fucking weird. I used to mask my aversion with a constant infusion of sugar and simple carbs.

I've decided not to worry about any of this. This is how I'm eating right now. It suits more of me than it doesn't suit (which is more than I can say for my former eating styles). I only eat what I want. If I desire sweet things before savoury, I eat them. If I want a quarter stick of butter in my scoop-sized mashed potatoes, I eat it.  If I want veggies braised in bacon fat, I eat them. I do not restrict salt or spices or fat or protein. I also welcome fruit and sweet-aligned foods (cocoa, wine, coffee). I pair them with the most stupidly fatty and moldy cheese I can find.

Is this low carb or ketogenic or primal, I have no fucking idea. It seems that most of my calories come from fat but nuts, fruit, veg and dairy have carbs and I eat them daily, sometimes in substantive quantities. I drink wine sometimes. I make dessert many nights of the week. I just cut the sugar almost entirely, eliminate the grain and use beautiful dairy, fruits, eggs and spices. You'd be amazed by how dessert can serve as an decadent main when you do this well. I don't know if this is healthy on paper. I know it's healthy for me.

Is it immoderate? Well, maybe, if you don't like the idea of mainlining fat, but does that matter if the end result is feeling and looking better? One could say I am exceedingly moderate about the sugar and grains. I sense I'm a vegan's nightmare.

Is this a good idea for others? Who can say? It can't hurt to try if you have mood or memory issues, an arrythmia, chronic pain or an illness caused by systemic inflammation or degeneration. Bio-available fat stabilizes the nervous system. But who can say what impacts come to those with high lipids or fat-sensitive systems? We are not all the same. We shouldn't all do the same thing.

So, today's question: What kind of eater are you? Emotional, Whole 30, health nut, gluttonous, austere - define yourself in the moment :-) and let's talk!

When Feeling Bad Is Good

So, I tried another experiment. I'd love to tell you it was calculated but, in truth, I saw macaroni and cheese and chocolate stout cake on a menu and I decided, fuck it. I was gonna eat all the sugar and processed grains and no one could stop me. When Scott tried to take a bite of the cake, I went after him with my fork (in case you're in any doubt of the addictive nature of these foods). I added insult to injury with a glass of wine. Oh, and I started the day with half an english muffin (something I've done only 3 times since January). Hmmm...

Oh Lord, people. I was so sick, so fast. And, almost 24 hours later, I'm still feeling mighty bad.

So, what happened?

Well, the first 30 minutes were a blur of utter bliss. Oh, I was high and so freakin' happy. I cannot explain how awesome I felt.

The next 30 minutes were a sad, sugar come-down. I started to feel a bit shaky. Given what I now know about blood sugar, I sense I went into a rebound low. I walked for about 30 minutes. By the time I got home I felt nausea - not surprising since I'd just eaten @ 1000 calories of sugar which I didn't bother to stabilize with anything like fiber or healthy fat or protein.

Then I got super miserable. I thought I might have to end it all as a result of the weather. Truly, I feel this way even with stable blood sugar, these days. It's been raining for weeks. A good day means it only rains half the time and it gets up to 15C. Even the people who don't mind rain are losing it. Those like me are in a perma-melancholic state. But it was particularly pronounced, this misery.

An hour later, I had to take a nap. I had a terrible headache. When I woke, I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. I didn't want to move but I knew I had to. When I stood up, I was dizzy and my bones/joints hurt terribly. In case I've been wondering whether my new lifestyle/diet has helped my pain, well, I've got my answer. The arthritis, as they call it, kicked in big time.*

Never mind specific symptoms - on a meta level, was so out of sorts, I didn't know what to do with myself. To calm myself, I picked up my needles. When I tried to knit, I noticed that my fingers were super-clumsy. I couldn't gain a rhythm. My body stiffened.

At that point, I ate just about the only thing that didn't make me want to throw up - a handmade coconut oil, cacao, almond butter cup (low in sugar, high in fat and protein) and I drank about 20 glasses of water. Later, I ate a salad for dinner and some pistachios. It took forever for the night to go by but eventually it was a reasonable time to go to sleep. When I woke this morning, my fingers were SO swollen it was crazy. Like old times. My stomach is still a mess.

Wow. I have gone off-road on a few occasions, of course. Usually that means an extra glass of wine or an extra tsp of maple syrup in my drinking chocolate. But I've really avoided the wheat flour to date - partly because there's nothing good about it - unless it's non-processed or from Italy -  and I don't actually miss it (not like I miss rice, for example - and even that I can avoid without difficulty). All that comes of eating it is having eaten it and likely wanting more (as it's in all the yummy things).

Will I do this again? Um, yeah. I'm pretty sure I'll forget how bad I'm currently feeling and the lure of cake will once again set in. But it's not going to happen soon, that's for sure. Also, next time I do it, I'm making the fucking cake cuz my baking is incomparable.

Till then, yours in austerity, K

*We can call it whatever but I'm pretty sure it's sugar and grain induced autoimmune response (aka systemic inflammation). Feel free to disagree, as no test can substantiate this. I'm telling you, I lived the result and I'm sure that's what it is.

A Little Bit of Knowledge is a Dangerous Thing

A couple of Sundays ago, I undertook an unassuming biochem experiment on myself, to see what would happen, if anything, to my blood sugar level if I drank alcohol without eating at the same time. Apparently, in some people, drinking alcohol in the absence of food lowers blood sugar. And yes, to address the elephant in the room, I have gone through a zillion little needles because, seriously, I'm not moderate but I am curious. (BTW, while the process isn't painful, it is irritating. One gets little bruises on the fingers pretty quickly. I feel for my diabetic friends who have no reprieve.)

So here's something that's leaving the repertoire stat, whether it's warranted or no: drinking any amount of booze on an "empty stomach". BTW, when I speak of drinking, I'm not talking about hard liquor or umbrella cocktails laden with sugar. On the distant heels of a robust breakfast* (admittedly more than an hour earlier), 4 oz of red wine lowered my blood sugar to the low end of normal** and might or might not have led to a really shitty, possible low blood sugar experience later in the aft. 

To clarify - I ate again an hour after drinking the wine (a few pieces of salami), thought I was sated, and then 30 minutes after that I felt legit hungry, so I ate more salami and some pistachios. My point is, I didn't just drink a glass of wine after more or less fasting for 16 hours. I ate protein and fat at breakfast and then again for a snack. But, while I was pleasantly sitting in a chair eating that lunch, I started to feel the feeling.

As for the feeling - here's how it goes when it's bad (note: I paid as much attention as I could to observe the fast cascade of symptoms, which usually just feels like an onslaught). First up I felt icy-strange, vaguely depersonalized. Then I got hot and cold at the same time and neither temperature would take hold. Effectively I felt feverish on the outside and freezing on the inside but that doesn't really describe it. There was a tinny sensation - like there was metal around me and I could taste or smell it. I became confused - even as I'd been concentrating on something, with no issue, moments earlier. The thing about confusion is that you know something's not right but you can't figure out what the fuck is going on. My arrhythmia kicked into gear. I was lightheaded. I could feel my body searching for some normalcy - a steady heart, the groundedness of my corporeal self. I mean, just the nausea almost had me on the ground.

I did stand, prob not wisely, because I was desperately looking for an escape. On some level, I knew I had to get some food though I couldn't figure out what. (In retrospect, it couldn't have hurt to take a swig of maple syrup, but I wasn't thinking clearly.) As I walked the few feet from the chair to the counter, I also knew I had to get down on the ground because everything was swirly. Note: That's when I got it that things were really not going well. My descent was more by collapse than intent but I was able to make it lighter than it would have been otherwise.

Scott was on the third floor of this fucking rental mansion we live in currently and he couldn't hear me calling, not to mention that I wasn't yelling very loudly. After some period of time that was probably a minute but felt like an eternity, I dragged myself to my phone and called him. No answer. I pressed the button again. He was asleep and his phone was in the other room. Finally I texted: I need help. Somehow he woke up, thought he'd heard me calling him (I wasn't at that point) and came downstairs.

Long story short, he brought me a shawl and pillow (I was on that floor for a while), some water and quickly toasted me an English muffin with a ton of butter - why did neither of us think of maple syrup or a freakin' cookie for the quick fix?? After about 10 minutes of sitting on the floor, becoming gradually less wrecked, I moved to the couch where I fell asleep for about half an hour. BTW, I knew, even as I lay there feeling crappy, that this would be a perfect time to test my blood sugar, dammit, but I could not move to get to the gizmo (or work the gizmo, who am I kidding?). I was pretty cold after all of this. Eventually I moved myself to my duvet-covered bed where I sort of slept for 2 hours. When I got up, Scott brought me some blackberries and a piece of gouda, and some more water. I was fine after that.

I'm sure you'll agree that this is not the kind of thing one wants to experience on repeat. The only thing I did differently on this day, vs other days, was to drink a glass of red wine on a relatively empty stomach. Not that it's the first time I've ever done that (and I don't usually end up on the floor under that circumstance). Were the low normal reading after the wine and the subsequent horrid experience independent of one another? I hope not. I'd like to think I've identified a problem and a solution at the same time! :-) In truth, this isn't the first time I've experienced this fugue and it's been happening since long before I knew about blood sugar, not that it's a regular occurrence. Not having been able to distinguish one biochemical response from the other, I've previously assumed it was an anxiety response. It would be bizarre to determine that this kind of horridness is fueled by low blood sugar fueled by wine on an empty stomach - because that's stupidly avoidable. What the fuck else lowers blood sugar, cuz I need to know! Bring on that lancer, baby. 

What I'll also say is that I will not experiment on myself again without some sugar nearby - not that I have any proof that this was a hypoglycemic incident. In the event that I brought this on myself, I'm a total idiot. My motto: Experimenters, be prepared.

So, today's questions (for the blood sugar savvy): Does this sound like a non-diabetic hypoglycemic episode? Could a small amount of alcohol, taken in the absence of food, lead to this sort of outcome (given food timing). Have you ever experienced anything like this and, if yes, what steps have you taken to avoid recurrence? Let's talk!

PS: It has occurred to me that what allowed this to happen is more systemic than I've assumed. I've been eating no grains or beans and not so many carbs for a few months now. My blood sugar may be generally lower as a result. Furthermore, I drink about 25% of what I used to. I can't imagine this, but maybe my tolerance is lower. Plus, I weigh somewhat less. So the response I had, if blood sugar related, may have been influenced by these factors.


* Look, I don't like eating breakfast - robust was a wet cappuccino with collagen peptides (8g protein), an egg and then, an hour later, my hot chocolate (utterly equipped with fat and calories). Secretly, when I make this drink I usually replace the water with heavy cream on top of the unsweetened coconut cream... And I do eat vegetables, just not in this post.

** For reference, my fasting level was 5.2 mmol/L, after breakfast it was 6.1, after the food-free wine experience it was 4.3. Next time I could test was 30 min after dinner and it was 5.4. How I wish I'd had the wherewithal to test during the "episode".

Say Goodbye and Hello

The best way to bid farewell is with an afternoon of cooking, no doubt culminating in 20 minutes of gluttonous eating. Trust me. And the best way to cook is with copious amounts of fat, preferably butter. Ask any chef and they'll tell you. If they don't, they're flat out lying.

Tonight's menu is a family fave: quiche Lorraine (Julia's recipe - though I make the crust recipe from The Joy of Cooking), asparagus with wild mushroom and brie sauce and, for dessert, apple pear crumble (with pistachios and almonds). I can't be sure there won't be cream on top of the crumble.

And for some food porn:

Prebaked Crust - Recipe in The Joy of Cooking. You've got to blind bake it before adding the quiche custard...

Seriously, is there anything better than bacon? Except lardons??

You line the blind-baked crust with lardons, just before adding the custard mixture (see photo below)...

This custard is a simple mixture of eggs, cream, salt and pepper. Takes 3 minutes to make.

And here's what it comes to, in the end:

We like a lot of space between the top of the deep-dish pan and the custard. Makes for more crunchy crust!

Seriously, people, if you are afraid for your arteries, do not make this meal. I have actually modified the menu items to remove some of the fat. For example, I cannot conscion adding 2 tbsp butter to the top of a quiche, the ingredients of which are these: lard, flour, butter (in the crust), lardons, 1 cup of heavy cream, eggs, salt and pepper. A girl needs to draw the line somewhere. I use whole milk, not cream, when making my mushroom cheese sauce.

But I do NOT skimp on the butter in the crumble:

See those little dots of apple/pear coloured something? Yeah, that's butter. And, btw, that's the secret to your perfect crumble. When it mixes with the collapsed fruit, vanilla extract, pinch of sugar, lemon and corn starch, it creates a perfect confit.

Add some hand-crushed pistachios, almonds, more butter, flour and sugar, and you've got yourself an awesome, crunchy topping:

Natch, this is pre-baking

And this just came out of the oven (which is why I've updated the post):

You'll have to trust me when I tell you that this is much browner than the pre-baked version and bubbling nicely.

You can see why we need to add some asparagus to the mix.

(I cannot be sure that there won't be a good bottle of wine for pairing.)

Bye-bye 2015. You've been all kinds of things. But I'll put my money on the future.

Place You Should Go To

One of my fave restaurants in Montreal is Le Quartier General. It has the added benefit of being about a two minute walk from where we stay on the Plateau, but I'd haul ass from any other part of the city to eat there.

The food is phenomenal. It's BYOB, no corking fee. The ambiance is lively, almost entirely French, often very loud - but in an amiable way. And it's so affordable, it's ridiculous.

Of course, getting a reservation (or a walk-in table) is somewhat tricky, so you have to think ahead unless you're in it for a late weekday lunch. Happily, on my last day in Montreal, after Scott, M and Nicole had headed back to TO (and I was waiting to catch that unforeseenly horrid flight to Philadelphia), I was able to avail myself of a truly fantastic meal:

That's chicken, cooked in the style of duck confit in an awesome reduction made with wild mushrooms. Even that cabbage in the foreground is absurdly delicious. And I loathe cabbage.

As you can see, I'm a fan of the puddings - sticky toffee everything for the win. This is pouding chomeur, the ironic ne plus ultra for the depression-era francophone on the dole.

I cannot begin to explain the perfect density of that white cake (cooked to order, so it was a bit of a wait, though so worth it). With this dessert, ice cream is a necessary complement a) because it's hotter than hell in Mtl in the summer (and many restos do not have AC) and b) that maple sauce is hella sweet! When ice cream levels the blood sugar, you know that's some good shit :-)

Yes I did bring my own demi of wine, but after this food and a bottle of sparkling water, the entire bill (including tax and a generous tip) came to - no freakin' joke - 35 bucks.

I caught the best of the day as I walked the 'hood (the weather did turn as I waited endlessly at Trudeau airport):

Nothing like a semi-eternal winter to bring out your garden A-game... And Laurier park is a beautiful, shaded hub:

I cannot recommend Montreal enough. It's affordable, the food is awesome, the vistas elegant, the culture lively, the language novel (at least for some). The architecture is great, the style even better and these people know how to have fun. As I've said, many times, Toronto is a meh place to vacation but an awesome place to live. Montreal, on the other hand, is where a happening traveler goes for a visit she's sure to enjoy. Don't know that I'd want to live there, but then - living where I do (a 4 hour train ride from city centre to city centre) - I get the best of both worlds.

So, have you been to Montreal? If yes - what's your fave area / place / thing to do? And if you've been - and you really don't like it - feel free to chime in. It's endlessly fascinating to me how one person resonates with a place while another simply does not.

A Very Good Meal

If you can believe it, and truly I cannot, Scott ordered the chicken...

The resto was very ambiant:

The view from my seat...

We ate everything on the freakin' menu, somehow, which wasn't difficult since it was a tapas joint. After dessert, they rewarded our efforts with some homemade Domincan rum infused with orange.

But, perhaps best of all, the walk home was spectacular:

Beachy reputation aside, this is a very poor part of France, with high unemployment, and one feels the disenfranchisement. Beautiful landmarks are frequently marred by garbage, graffiti or the decay of neglect. I'm not going to lie to you, this town isn't on my Best-Of list. Frankly, one can do better on a French vacation (Arles, for example). And I'm not just saying that because of the night from hell.

But, if you happen to be in the area, there's some good food and some even better people-watching. Tomorrow, on to Barcelona on the high-speed train!

Arles: A Round Up

Tomorrow we go from Arles to Montpellier, a bit south and somewhat west of where we are now. I am most definitely looking forward to the next part of the vacation (even as I continue to dwell on this one) but, as a writer in my heart, I cannot resist sharing early reflections on this delightful destination:

• I wanted a slow place, reminiscent (in terms of pace) of Quebec City. It is most definitely that. It is also surprisingly sexy - as long as you don't define sexy in terms of haute-luxury. It's very earthy.

• The atmosphere is languid and sultry. It feels like Spain in this part of the world. Of course, the French would have you know that Spain feels like France.

• The food is very good. I haven't hit the full-meal jackpot at a restaurant yet, but this dish was utterly fantastic: 

• There is lots of culture here, even though the town is on the small side. If you like museums, there are 3 of them (with worthwhile collections); if music or photography appeal, there are festivals for both in the summer. There's a Roman arena (the architectural claim to fame of Arles - only outdone by the Alyscamps, depending on whom you ask). There's Camarguaise bull-fighting at the arena - a totally bizarre spectacle. The fighting style in this region is non-violent (though mean, if you ask me).

Click on this photo to see the panoramic fabness in full size...

• It's gorgeously old here, in a vaguely creepy way. Streets meander into other streets. Detours return you to your starting point. People live here. They stay up all night - talking. It's noisy. It's messy. But it makes for atmospheric photos:

• Arles is all about its light. I can totally understand why everyone wants to decamp to Provence. The watery sunlight is spectacular, engaged in centuries of collaboration with the stones. It's is a player in this place, a guest at the table, an ancient friend. When the sun fades, the town loses a considerable portion of its luster (IMO). Happily, the sun seems to shine most of the time (and rain, while heavy, is not long-lasting).

• The temperature is fucking perfect - like 28C with no humidity. Honestly, I'm beginning to feel like I live in the shittiest part of the world for weather. It's always dull - or cold, or wet, or freezing, or like an oven or threatening to be one of those things. In my town, temperate weather is practically an unknown. It's is a trickster. Even in summer, it is unwise to leave the house without a sweater and an umbrella (and you're probably wearing pants). In Arles, you put on some shorts and a t shirt. You wear them out in the morning. The temperature is perfect. In the evening, you to wear the same shorts and top (or a little sundress, perhaps). The temperature continues to be perfect. It storms for an hour. While you watch the rain, you note that the temperature is perfect. Life, from this vantage point, is so tremendously easy. This experience has helped me to viscerally reaffirm my ever-deepening perspective that it's hard to live in a northern, interior city because every move you make takes foresight. I love not having to concern myself with the environment!

Lots of people suggested to me that there wouldn't be enough to do for 4 days in this one town but I am here to refute that. I was looking for a rest. An hour in the plaza with a glass of wine while people-watching. A day in the house napping and cooking and partying with my husband. A great meal at a tiny bistro. Walking through the streets and observing architectural gems. I'm not in this vacation for big box museums and attractions - and yet we've gone to museums and spectacles! So don't worry about not having adequate activity, unless you're looking to be in the fray.

And, if you want to know about a great venue, email me. This house is not perfect for everyone, but it might just be for you.

Ploughman's Lunch for Dinner in France

I wish everyone were eating this right now...

We went to the Wednesday market - apparently the small version of the one on Saturday. I cannot imagine the scale of Saturday's, given that we found everything - including wine - without a moment of hesitation. Mind you, I don't understand all the peeps who suggest that you buy dinner at the market to be frugal on hols. This spread cost more than 100 bucks - not that I begrudge it - though there is enough food for at least two meals.

The menu:

Wine: Chateauneuf-du-Pape - L'angelus (Scott says it's "sort of angry". I don't agree... Mind you, he's drinking it.)
Cured Pork: Caillasse de Savoie Fumee. No refrigeration. Mind you, it's half gone.
Tomato (insanely awesome varietal)
Sundried tomato tapanade (Lord...)
Baguette / Olive Oil
Locally cured olives, brined with citrus, hot peppers, sweet peppers and spice
Selection of Local Cheeses - can't remember name of either but do not put them in the fridge!
Cherries - delicious and I don't like cherries
Grapes
Peach
Artisanal Nougat (Caramel and pecan)
Chocolate (Suite 88 from Montreal) - fleur de sel, sucre d'erable

Now, if only this ancient townhouse had a dishwasher...

Feast or Famine

Wanna place bets on how long it's going to take me to get it? The path of this illness is not linear. Why I should think I'd be back to normal after 3 months, when it takes many others 6 months, is beyond me. I mean, optimistic.

Last week I was feeling pretty good, in the scheme of things. This week, not so much. I find it hard to believe that my relatively debaucherous last weekend, involving 4, 1.5 oz martinis over 3 days and a pint of ice cream (ok, and some cookies) could be the reason why my throat ulcers have returned, my energy is low, my cough is worse and my breathing/throat puffiness not optimal.

Allow me to clarify: I went to bed before 11 pm every night. I was home before 9. I did not go to a club. I drank lots of water and, otherwise, ate virtuously. The above binge is entirely in line with PMS, the darkest days of the year, going out for dinner and feeling (celebratorily) like a normal person (sort of) who hadn't freakin' eaten yummy food or drunk any meaningful amount in way too fucking long.

And it's not like I had a sip and then I couldn't breathe. Or eating that cookie threw me over the edge. In fact, I didn't start feeling bad until after the "binge" (and I use that term loosely). Which is why technically, I suppose, the return of crappy-feeling could be unrelated to the episode. 

Yeah, I know, unlikely. If having a pint of ice cream could have killed me a month ago, what the fuck was I doing eating it in bulk on Saturday night? I can't explain it. I felt ok; I indulged.

So now, whether the binge was the cause of my "relapse" (and I use this term loosely too) - which is preferable, I suppose, to just feeling terrible after having felt, briefly, better - or whether it is entirely unimplicated, I feel like an idiot and I kind of hate myself. Too bad I have no masochistic tendencies or the pain I'm feeling this week could act as a welcome source of punishment.

I suppose, right now I should just pretend I'm a movie star serious actor training for the role of a person who gets stuck in a cave without anything but berries to subsist on for 2 months before another serious actor (and a bunch of less serious actors playing the roles of uniformed paramedics) finds her, languishing, but somehow with rosy skin and good hair. In this movie, berries can grow in a cave.

Here's how I think I've got to play this, for the next 2 months (though I am pained to type it out) - not unlike how I played it for the first 2 months (though then I was too sick to notice):

• No wine.

• No alcohol of any type till I can't take it anymore (or I attend some function with crazy family members), then a small amount of booze without sugar, i.e. a martini. But only one and only very occasionally.

• Only very small amounts of sugar, other than that which is to be found in frozen wild blueberries. And as infrequently as I can manage it. (Please note, I am absolutely addicted to sugar and this is 8000 times worse, from where I'm sitting, than not drinking wine, which is already pretty bad.)

• On the plus side, coffee's all good. (Note: I start to shake if I drink more than 2 coffees a day, so I can't really use this to make up for all the other stuff that's gone.)

• I should say no dairy and no flour-based foods but fuck it. I'm not overdosing on these, however one needs an english muffin with butter after all the joy has been lacerated from her diet. Of course, as necessary, I'll modify this. And I am aiming to be moderate. 

• Fear not. I can eat all of the vegetables I can stomach! And meat, as long as it's not fatty.  And eggs and rice with soy sauce and soy-flavoured rice crackers from Koreatown (the portable version of rice with soy sauce).

• Nuts and seeds are a wildcard. I've eaten them when my throat hasn't been constricted, which is to say, I haven't eaten them at all this week. But they are a healthy, sugar-free and fat-rich type of food, so I hope to be back on this bandwagon soon.

You know you're firmly from the first-world if this diet looks bereft to you.

If any of you has a story about recovering from illness wherein temporary food intolerances were developed (especially those causing or exacerbating throat-puffiness), I'd love to hear about it.

Or, simply feel free to berate me for my idiocy. I can take it.

How You Know You Live in a Big City

I had the most bizarre experience today.

I went out to get some yarn (not the bizarre part, more on that coming up shortly) and to go to Herbs and Nutrition. While at the health food store, I observed that I was very hungry, too hungry to wait for food, so I tried to find something ready-made and healthful. It was harder than I would have thought. After some dithering, I happened upon a flat of (very locally made) vegan sprout chocolate mousse. It's produced by some hippie commune, I suspect; it delivers daily. So, just as I leaned in to pick up a container, another woman did the exact same thing. We almost smacked each other in the head.

Now, I think it's off the chain that anyone at all wants vegan sprout mousse, much less 2 women at the exact same moment (from a flat that had but 2 containers remaining). It was one of those hilariously stereotypical urban moments that you see in stupid movies about young professionals in the city. No need to come to blows, thought I, for mousse sweetened with coconut sugar. We can each have our hit.

When I looked at the ingredients, I was horrified to find that this stuff was made with broccoli. And other vegetables?!?! Wow. My comrade-in-grabbing walked away. Apparently, there was no question of her purchasing the mousse. She knew that shit. I asked after her: Um, this stuff can't possibly taste like broccoli, right?

She responded: Oh, no! It's delicious. It's the best thing I've ever eaten. The cashews give it lots of protein. The chocolate is dark and rich. The sprouts on the top (yes, there was a salad on top of the mousse) are so crunchy and green. I feel totally full and energetic when I eat it.

Did I mention that a tiny cup costs 5 dollars.

I was sold. In truth, I was too hungry to care. And very curious. I paid for the mousse and downed it on the spot. It did not taste like broccoli, mercifully. It was a beautifully neutral food, if chalky. Crunch was balanced with smoothness. Dark flavours mixed with a sweet-ish high note. I would totally buy it again. I mean, its stupid urban-price alone would keep me coming back.

I'm a stereotypical that way.

OMG

The food here is awesome. I bought the most perfect coconut-dusted, Argentinian alfajores. And pumkin soup with crayfish. And Sicilian olives (the excellent light green kind) and ravioli with squid (which tasted like ham, for some bizarre reason, not that I'm complaining). Not to mention that there's really reasonably priced booze everywhere.

Every experience is amazing and it's all bracketed by yummies. Alors, my hedonism is in high-gear. How I wish I were a moderate person... In a moment of alteredness, I somehow ate a box of Dutch butter cookies. 900 calories later, I was devastated to find them all gone. As I write, I'm in my room drinking a Brunello. Makes that stuff I get at the LCBO seem like swill.

The weather was delicious today. I only had to supplement my summer outfit with a sweater and tights! :-) Seriously, it was totally sunny and 20 degrees. Fabulous weather for wandering. I actually packed the tights by accident. Hello? Who packs tights in August?? But how handy is that?

Here are a few photos (bad scene if you hate people who post their vacation pics):






PS: I'd really appreciate it if one of my more solvent readers could stay here and write about it. It was my goal to take the hit for us all, but the 500 euro a night charge surpassed my means.

The Way I See It

Remember that thing I said yesterday about looking leading to spending? Well how much more meta can you get than looking for glasses. I mean, Jesus, you can't even see what you're trying on!

But don't fear, it didn't stop me from finding my next pair:

You've got to appreciate glasses called Hellcat!

They're titanium and made in Japan but designed by a Danish company, Orgreen. The brand doesn't show a high-res photo on the website (from what I can tell). This pic isn't really the best...

How did it happen? Well, I took the day off and had lunch at food empire, Terroni. BTW, if you live in TO, the magazine they recently started publishing is irritatingly delicious and available to read online. Totally Queen Street. (Seriously, what self-respecting restaurant gets into publishing??)

At any rate, I've had the same glasses for 3 years and 2 months (I checked) and, though I've never loved a pair more - they're PINK people, I have to shake it up. I can't be that girl in pink glasses for the next 10 years.

Down the block from the restaurant is Spectacle, my go-to eyewear boutique. It is a delightful place with excellent client service, but man, that bill really hits you in the ass. Let's just say I probably shouldn't have spent quite so much money on lunch. (In full disclosure: My husband bought lunch.)

Totally off topic - my drink of the week is one the name of which I can't remember, sadly, but it's a composite of prosecco, gin and Campari (finished with a wedge of orange).

But how off topic is it, really? I mean the eyewear is orange, the drink is orange. Orange seems to be the name of the game today. You know I have no issues with the colour - see my handmade body of evidence. I wear orange tights, scarves. I even used to wear a bright orange plaid coat. (I loved that coat.) And, I'm kind of in a go loud or go home phase right now.

These look rather different than the current pair. They're not plastic. They're not pink. The shape is more rectangular than cat's eye (though not excessively so). They're vaguely more architectural (but not in that way one euphemistically refers to wacky, preciously-angular, embellished glasses). They're even a bit intellectual. Having said all this. I do not look like a librarian (sexy or otherwise). I polled everyone in the freakin' store to confirm this.

In the Name of Science

You may recall that I have embraced a (Gary Taubes-endorsed), low carbohydrate lifestyle - if only experimentally - so I thought I'd give you a bit of information about how I am acting as my own personal guinea pig...

It seems that the best way to determine whether (at least in the case of my own physiology) insulin imbalance is the cause of abdominal weight is to change up the composition of my diet - while (natch) preserving a key control.

You know how those scientists like to use control methodology. In this case, while considering the number of calories consumed is not an element of low-carbohydrate eating (remember, Mr. Taubes does not promote any particular diet, simply the science that underpins them), it's the only variable I have at my disposal.

(Sidebar: I've debated discussing my food diary in detail - the number of healthy, balanced calories I aim to eat daily - have aimed to eat daily for years. I'm loathe to dig into this, not because I'm coy, but because it's not the sort of information I'd like to see floating eternally upon the ethernet. Out of context, it might be used inappropriately. So let's leave it at, if you'd like to know specifics - because you are a woman working to develop your own conscious relationship to food - give me a shout. Otherwise, suffice it to say that I believe in vegetables and adequate (though not excessive) energy intake. My pictures confirm that I have no shortage of body fat...)

Now, according to the low-carb peeps, I'm misguided to be keeping a record of calories at all. Oh, carbs and protein and fat grams, I am welcome to chart all day, but calories - those are so 1989. Whatevs, I like lists and food diaries like calories, so there you go.

Fortuitously, though, if I want to see the impact of low carb eating on my own body, I can change the composition of those calories, while not exceeding the upper threshold, and see what occurs.

If you happen to be an actual scientist, reading this, and you disagree that my experimental method has any value - by all means, let me know. I mean, I was an English major.

Otherwise, we'll see how it goes as I aim to eat approximately 75 grams of carbohydrates a day (not even in the realm of Atkins' extremism), picking up the slack with 100-plus grams of protein and however much fat I come across. There are no refined foods on this eating plan. There is, however, red wine - because I don't choose to live without it. As a result, a good amount of my daily carbs are going towards my evening "chill out". (Note: Depending on what you read, red wine has 5 grams of carbs per 5 ounces, or 20 grams of carbs - if you include the alcohol. Different people metabolize alcohol with different efficiency. I'm assuming, conservatively, that I fall into the "not so efficient metabolizer" category, at least for now...)

If any of you have tried this experiment on yourselves - or would like to debate the merits of high protein, high fat (non-refined) diets, comment away!

I'm going to do this for 2 months - or till I determine that it might not be optimal for my body, should the evidence arise - and see what happens. If I become more lean in my midsection over that time, I will gradually return the carbs to my diet, till I determine a tipping point. After all, I'm not eschewing rice and cookies for no good reason!

So far, it's been interesting, if a bit drab. There's nothing I want so much as that which I've decided to forgo... I don't even like bread, and now I look at it with intrigue. Ah, that's deprivation mentality for you.

Feast or Famine

I'm writing this on my new MacBook Air, which is everything they say it is, and cute. If I were a computer, I'd want to be this one. My husband has really pulled it back from the edge after leaving me for dead (metaphorically) when I first sustained the foot injury. While he may not have taken it seriously at first, he's bucked up by massaging my ankle and leg, physiotherapy-style, for hours each evening, taking care of all the mobile-elements of family life (i.e., shuttling the kid) and gifting me with top of the line technology.

I think it's safe to say I'm going to postpone the divorce.

In the true spirit of Xmas, however, this post is not about the loot but about the food. For the last two days I have eaten a shocking variety of things that can only be deemed artery-blockers.

I'm not one of those people who frowns on gluttony. No ma'am. Give me your fried, crispy masses. Pastry that gleams with butter. My heart flutters at a perfect cake crumb. I can eat a round of brie.

Seriously. On Xmas eve, we had wild mushroom brie fondue that takes a pound of rinded cheese. Generally it serves 4 till they're stuffed beyond compare. M was sick, so she wasn't eating. Scott just humoured me by eating it. There was but a small amount left yesterday for me to pair with crackers while I drank a bottle of Vouvray (this is hard to find at a decent price and it's so clear and ringy, though far sweeter than the wine I generally choose). I drank it over 8 hours, fyi. This is to say nothing of the struesel cake I ate for breakfast yesterday morning. (Is anything better for breakfast than homemade coffee cake??).

The thing is that Scott's Xmas capon takes a zillion hours to cook. We were three, but he bought a 10 pound bird. Don't ask. In fact, we tried - on a whim, yesterday morning - to invite 8 people over to share it with us. Alas, they had already started to cook their own Xmas dinner at 10 am. Anyway, by 4 p.m. I was really hungry and I had to eat some ridiculous quantity of prosciutto.

By 7 p.m. the capon was juicy, delicious ready with roasted veggies. They managed to be soft on the inside and crunchy, oily on the outside. My fave combo. I won't lie - I ate an ounce of capon and half a pan of veggies - if you can call onions, carrots and potatoes soaked in grease "veggies".

The pan generally serves 6-8.

Scott and his friend of 35 years have a term to describe extreme, painful, disgusting first-world fullness. It's called "klunk" and you can use it as a verb or a noun or an adjective, your choice. To say I was klunk at this moment does not begin to express how I felt. I really thought I might throw up (which is a horrifying thing in my book). Scott felt my stomach and seemed alarmed by its distension.

At which point I decided I would never eat again.

I sense I'm about to break the fast (it has been 12 hours), but I'm going to do it with a hard boiled egg and a slice of cheddar. Though that cake continues to call. (Don't worry - I'm over it. I still feel vaguely nauseated, thankfully.)

Why am I telling you this? Why am I admitting to this horrendous level of gluttony? I'd like to say something like it's to make you feel better about your own holiday ingestion indiscretions, but who are we kidding?? I think it unlikely that any of you have crossed the line as I have. Maybe I'm looking for that one crazy reader who can match me in the stupid eating department? Maybe I am seeking absolution? Who can say.

So here's to hot water with lemon, green salad and chicken soup. Which reminds me, I have to transform those leftovers into a stew fit for a queen. Have I mentioned that my chicken soup is legendary?

Modular Cooking

Photo: Whorange

Just check out this post, OK? I can't even tell you what it's about because I'm fixated on the images.

Never mind food porn, this is food erotica!

PS: Big thanks to Sal, who told me about this tremendously stylish site. She really does recommend the best blogs.

In Praise of Freedom (and Food)

Sally is always right on the mark when it comes to the blogs. This week she turned me on to The Fat Nutritionist, who decries fun-food haters and speaks persuasively in favour of eating what you want. As much as you want.

Do yourself a favour and read this post. It's brilliant.

The Valentine's Version

To say I could care less about Valentine's Day is the understatement of the century. I actually think it's a mean holiday. Those who have sweeties can celebrate their love any old time. Those who don't are discriminated against. But let's face it, the perceived isolation of the average non-partnered (from hearts and roses, sexy lingerie and passion) is entirely fabricated - as is the greeting card occasion. Note: Jewels are exempt from my contempt. :-)

May I recommend that you never dine out on VDay? The food is invariably crappy and the service rushed.

Wow, I'm just a wealth of romance in this post.

But moving on, when you have a young'un, Valentine's is important. You gotta get the cards (one for every kid in the class). You gotta come up with something pink and sweet.

Behold:



These are the yellow cupcakes with buttercream(cheese) icing, made one week after the "naked" batch. In pink!

By the time you read this, I will have served them at my latest dinner party.

Scalloped

Why do they call these scalloped potatoes au gratin? Cheese doesn't factor in at all. But, happily, there is lots of butter and heavy cream.

Just so we're clear: I don't understand potatoes unless they're coated in fat.

Sunday Lunch

While I'm still feeling meh (I think I may have some kind of sinus thing - and I've never had a sinus thing before), I am trying to eat well (as opposed to everything in sight).

Have a look at this modified Real Simple recipe I made. The recipe is in the current issue...

Poached eggs with sauteed tomatoes and wild mushrooms, served on top of multigrain bread, toasted - I like my toast rather dark!