26. Treat meat as a flavoring or special occasion food
27. "Eating what stands on one leg [mushrooms and plant foods] is better than eating what stands on two legs [fowl], which is better than eating what stands on four legs [cows, pigs and other mammals]."
These two rules essentially address the same concept: the less meat in one's diet the better.
I'm conflicted on this concept. On one hand, I get the idea that, as Americans, we tend to believe that a meal = one big honking piece of meat and some other stuff, which is not only misguided, but actually completely backwards. Human beings aren't meant to eat so much meat, and until the combination of rising affluence of the United States and completely whacked-out federal subsidization of the meat industry, we didn't. It was too cost-prohibitive.
(Side note regarding that chart: Michelle Obama's crusade for healthier childrens' diets completely baffles me. What is the point of her campaign when at the very same time US government tacitly supports this massively unhealthy way of thinking and eating through its subsidies?)
And according to this totally bad-ass article from the New York Times that EVERYBODY should go read RIGHT NOW because it explains exactly what is so toxic about the overly meat-dependent diet, Americans eat twice the daily recommended intake of protein, and almost all of it from animal protein. World meat consumption has also doubled since 1961.
So I'm also all for reversing that way of thinking. I mentioned earlier that I try to make a habit of asking myself if there is just one vegetable I can add to every meal. By the same token, before preparing each meal, I ask myself if there is any way I can make it without meat. I also strive for and tally my "vegetarian days," days where (duh) I eat no meat whatsoever. Actually, today looks like it's shaping up to be a vegetarian day. An apple, homemade granola and yogurt for breakfast, salad and homemade pasta for lunch, and leftover huevos rancheros for dinner. Go me!
So, I totally, totally get that that's important. But, on the other hand, there comes a point in observing this rule that I can no longer see eye to eye with Pollan.
Pollan claims that vegetarians, as a rule, are "generally healthier," than meat-eaters, and I'm sure this is true. I'm sure there's a study out there somewhere, that proves it. Here's what I know: I was a rubbish vegetarian. I ate too much bread and cheese, too little protein. I also was (and am, if I'm going to be completely honest) not nearly creative enough or generous enough with my use of fruits and vegetables. In the words of my co-worker, who could not have said it better than me: "I was a vegetarian for a while - I got so fat and so tired."
So Pollan specifically advocates only eating meat in about two meals per week, leaving a whopping 19 vegetarian meals to figure out every week.
Now, for me, reduction in my consumption of meat came naturally for me, especially in the beginning, before I had had a chance to stock up on meat from local, non-industrial sources, because of the observation of Rule 30 (Eat animals who have themselves eaten well.) I thought maybe, as a more mature and thoughtful eater, that I would be better at being a vegetarian than I was as a teenager. That might be true up to a point, but I could also see a dozen bad vegetarian habits that I was falling right back into.
So, now that I've been to the co-op and the fancy local deli and I have an ample source of acceptable meat, I've slackened the reigns considerably. My personal goal is to have at least two vegetarian days per week, and eat meat with only one meal the rest of the time. I don't always succeed, and when I don't I'm not too hard on myself, but I think it's safe to say that this is the goal; this is what I find reasonable.
I had to be so lax about The Rules, especially in the middle of a project dedictated to observing them as strictly as possible, but I really think I'm in the right here. When I began eating meat again at age 20, I felt the effects immediately. I was less tired, more focused, had more energy. I didn't feel weighed down all the time.
I'm not one of those people who are all, "your body will always tell you what to do." In fact, I have not observed that to be the case at all. My body doesn't speak very clearly most of the time. So when it DOES, I feel obligated to listen.
After all, Pollan himself says in his introduction that food science is still relatively new. "Nobody knows what's going on deep in the soul of a carrot to make it so good for you," and, by that same token, nobody must know exactly what is going on deep within my body that makes meat so important to my health. But I know it's true. So on this rule, MP, you and I are just going to have to part ways.
Showing posts with label compromise. Show all posts
Showing posts with label compromise. Show all posts
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Day 29
24. When you eat real food, you don't need rules.
I mentioned this rule briefly yesterday, but I actually have a lot of thoughts on this particular rule.
A consummate dieter since my body-loathing pre-adolescence, I'm sort of mesmerized with the idea of a rules-free existence. As early as thirteen years old, I can remember cruising the mall, watching my friends buy junk food in the food court thinking pathetically, "Nooooo!!! I'm not supposed to be eating that!"
Oh, if only I had known then that that would be the framework for the entire rest of my life. From there, I proceeded down the dark and complicated maze that is endlessly retaining and catologuing nutritional do's and don't's: your body processes refined carbs like a spoonful of sugar. Three ounces of cheese has how many calories? Easy on the sugar, easy on the fat. Unless it's healthy fat, like olive oil and avocados? No, wait, easy on those too - they may make your heart healthy, but they still make your hips wide.
I don't mean to say I was ever a crazy, crash-dieter. I pretty much stayed away from the fads or anything sounding to weird or radical. I wasn't ever looking for a quick fix, but at the same time, I didn't look the way I wanted to look and I knew I had to make a real, serious effort for that to ever change.
So, for over a decade, I'd try out new and unpleasant restrictions - this time counting calories, this time cutting back on carbs - only to get frustrated and give up. Or I'd lose a few pounds and plateau, and then get frustrated and give up. Eventually, I lost a LOT of weight, and then got frustrated and gave up. And then gained a little of it back, and got scared, and came to accept that the constant monitoring and math, the calorie-counting and the polite, "no thank you's," would simply always be a way of life for me.
But I don't like it. It makes me truly sad to think of all the times I've demurely sipped on soda water and lemon at the bar whilst the crowd around me ordered tequila shots and cheese-fries. So as much as anything else, this project is an experiment for me. Is it possible to live a life free of incessant rules about food? Ironically, despite the fact that the project is about FOOD RULES, I've been enjoying an exhilerating amount of freedom. No constant questions about every little thing I put in my mouth: Is this too many calories? Is this a good ratio of protein to carbs? How much cheese have I eaten today? None of that.
If this works - if this is a way to escape that cycle of constant counting and second-guessing that I've known since before I was a teenager - then these rules are worth it just for that.
The question, then, is how is it working? Well, it depends on how you measure it. I feel pretty good - alert, aware, and, given the fact that I'm working roughly 50 hours a week (and that's just what I'm paid for), not too tired.
On the other hand, I'm pretty sure I've gained weight. Which, in all honestly, is probably a sign that I'm "cheating," somehow. After reading this book cover to cover, I believe that if you do it right, there's no way you could gain weight, as the bulk of your diet should be nothing but fruits, vegetables, and whole grains.
I suspect that relying too heavily on Rule 24, my favorite rule, at the expense of less fun rules like 54 (Eat less) and 43 (Avoid sugary and starchy food if you're concerned about your weight). Those two have already been major parts of my endless battle with rules, and, in the spirit of Rule 24, I'd like to stop thinking about them constantly.
But at the same time, I know that in certain ways my diet has changed possibly for the worse; in the absence of meat, for example, in the majority of my meals, I've been beefing up (no pun intended) on my cheese intake. I did this a lot when I was a vegetarian and fat. It makes sense to me - cheese replaces much of the protein and the flavor that's gone when meat vacates the plate. But it also adds a lot of fat, and is probably not in the spirit of Pollan's rules. Also probably not in the spirit of the rules? Eating nothing but a salad and a big potato for lunch multiple days a week because you can't find anything else in your fridge that you can eat.
This was my lunch earlier this week. No joke.
What I'm trying to say here is, I'm torn. On one hand, I want to live in the spirit of the idea that if you think about what you eat and eat well then all that calorie-counting, carb-counting, fat-counting crap is not necessary. On the other, when I can feel myself gaining weight, it triggers a reflexive response to ammend the way I'm eating, and I'm honestly not sure if that's an appropriate response or not.
It's also worth noting that I might feel like I've gained weight because I'm eating all kindsa things I'm usually not "allowed." Or, I may have gained weight because I've been so busy with this project, I've hardly had a chance to work out in three weeks. I am, however, NOT stepping on a scale until the project is over, because if I confirm that I've gained weight, I won't be able to stop myself from changing my diet, and as worried as I am about the weight issue, that's not what this project is about, and I don't want it to take focus from what I'm really trying to do.
So until then, all I can do is continue to try and live the rules as honestly as possible, and hope I've done my best to uphold the spirit of all of them, even if some of them seem, at this point at least, to be quite contradictory.
I mentioned this rule briefly yesterday, but I actually have a lot of thoughts on this particular rule.
A consummate dieter since my body-loathing pre-adolescence, I'm sort of mesmerized with the idea of a rules-free existence. As early as thirteen years old, I can remember cruising the mall, watching my friends buy junk food in the food court thinking pathetically, "Nooooo!!! I'm not supposed to be eating that!"
Oh, if only I had known then that that would be the framework for the entire rest of my life. From there, I proceeded down the dark and complicated maze that is endlessly retaining and catologuing nutritional do's and don't's: your body processes refined carbs like a spoonful of sugar. Three ounces of cheese has how many calories? Easy on the sugar, easy on the fat. Unless it's healthy fat, like olive oil and avocados? No, wait, easy on those too - they may make your heart healthy, but they still make your hips wide.
I don't mean to say I was ever a crazy, crash-dieter. I pretty much stayed away from the fads or anything sounding to weird or radical. I wasn't ever looking for a quick fix, but at the same time, I didn't look the way I wanted to look and I knew I had to make a real, serious effort for that to ever change.
So, for over a decade, I'd try out new and unpleasant restrictions - this time counting calories, this time cutting back on carbs - only to get frustrated and give up. Or I'd lose a few pounds and plateau, and then get frustrated and give up. Eventually, I lost a LOT of weight, and then got frustrated and gave up. And then gained a little of it back, and got scared, and came to accept that the constant monitoring and math, the calorie-counting and the polite, "no thank you's," would simply always be a way of life for me.
But I don't like it. It makes me truly sad to think of all the times I've demurely sipped on soda water and lemon at the bar whilst the crowd around me ordered tequila shots and cheese-fries. So as much as anything else, this project is an experiment for me. Is it possible to live a life free of incessant rules about food? Ironically, despite the fact that the project is about FOOD RULES, I've been enjoying an exhilerating amount of freedom. No constant questions about every little thing I put in my mouth: Is this too many calories? Is this a good ratio of protein to carbs? How much cheese have I eaten today? None of that.
If this works - if this is a way to escape that cycle of constant counting and second-guessing that I've known since before I was a teenager - then these rules are worth it just for that.
The question, then, is how is it working? Well, it depends on how you measure it. I feel pretty good - alert, aware, and, given the fact that I'm working roughly 50 hours a week (and that's just what I'm paid for), not too tired.
On the other hand, I'm pretty sure I've gained weight. Which, in all honestly, is probably a sign that I'm "cheating," somehow. After reading this book cover to cover, I believe that if you do it right, there's no way you could gain weight, as the bulk of your diet should be nothing but fruits, vegetables, and whole grains.
I suspect that relying too heavily on Rule 24, my favorite rule, at the expense of less fun rules like 54 (Eat less) and 43 (Avoid sugary and starchy food if you're concerned about your weight). Those two have already been major parts of my endless battle with rules, and, in the spirit of Rule 24, I'd like to stop thinking about them constantly.
But at the same time, I know that in certain ways my diet has changed possibly for the worse; in the absence of meat, for example, in the majority of my meals, I've been beefing up (no pun intended) on my cheese intake. I did this a lot when I was a vegetarian and fat. It makes sense to me - cheese replaces much of the protein and the flavor that's gone when meat vacates the plate. But it also adds a lot of fat, and is probably not in the spirit of Pollan's rules. Also probably not in the spirit of the rules? Eating nothing but a salad and a big potato for lunch multiple days a week because you can't find anything else in your fridge that you can eat.
What I'm trying to say here is, I'm torn. On one hand, I want to live in the spirit of the idea that if you think about what you eat and eat well then all that calorie-counting, carb-counting, fat-counting crap is not necessary. On the other, when I can feel myself gaining weight, it triggers a reflexive response to ammend the way I'm eating, and I'm honestly not sure if that's an appropriate response or not.
It's also worth noting that I might feel like I've gained weight because I'm eating all kindsa things I'm usually not "allowed." Or, I may have gained weight because I've been so busy with this project, I've hardly had a chance to work out in three weeks. I am, however, NOT stepping on a scale until the project is over, because if I confirm that I've gained weight, I won't be able to stop myself from changing my diet, and as worried as I am about the weight issue, that's not what this project is about, and I don't want it to take focus from what I'm really trying to do.
So until then, all I can do is continue to try and live the rules as honestly as possible, and hope I've done my best to uphold the spirit of all of them, even if some of them seem, at this point at least, to be quite contradictory.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Day 26
19. Eat only foods that have been cooked by humans.
20. Don’t ingest foods made in places where everyone is required to wear a surgical cap.
21. If it came from a plant, eat it; if it was made in a plant, don’t.
These three tricksy rules, particularly number 21, have been the bane of my existence since this project began.
When you think about it, what isn't made in a plant? Other than your most basic produce, pretty much everything can fall under some definition of having been made in a plant. Let's just start with breakfast: the coffee I drink every morning is roasted in a plant; the bread I eat it with - even if I bake in with my very own hands, the flour was probably milled in a plant (and they probably wore surgical caps too). Breakfast cereal is automatically out (which would answer my previous question), but what if I made my own granola? Well, would I put oats in my granola? Where were they rolled? (Answer: probably a plant.)
And, I suppose, this is sort of Pollan's point. Fresh produce, whole grains. That's it. That's about all that doesn't come from a plant, and at the core of the matter, that is all we need to be eating. And if it's so difficult to strip the rest of it away, well, that's what these rules are for - to make us aware of what we eat versus what we really need.
Which is all well and good on a philosophical level, but I don't knw about you, but I need a little more than that to get along, even for six weeks. A little milkfat. A little animal protien. A little sugar. And it's worth noting that nowhere in this book does Pollan explicitly advocate vegan/macrobiotic diet - which is what an all-whole grain and produce diet would resemble - although he sure seems to suggest it implicitly in this and other rules.
The fact is, if you take this rule at its strictest word, you don't even need the other 82 rules, because you're already going to be churning your own butter, Amish-style.
Okay, so obviously, we need to loosen our interpretation of "made in a plant," to some degree.
My first impulse was to say, okay, if it's packaged in a plant, but is more or less the same thing it was when it went in, that's okay. Allowable under this rule would be things like rice and certain brands of canned beans.
But that still leaves out a lot of very necessary items - most notably flour. Because how am I supposed have bread if I can't buy it in the grocery store and can't use flour to make my own? I sure wasn't going to grind my own flour and, while I see the benefits of reducing one's intake of processed grains, I think giving up bread completely is - like veganism - extreme to the point that it loses sight of the purpose of Pollan's book. Which is simple. And not extreme. Eat food. Eat real food.
Yeah... I'm not doing that. (Image from bcliving)
Okay, so how about: foods that are basically one thing, and that one thing leaves the plant in a different form, but is still essentially just that one thing are also okay. Flour goes on this list, obviously. So does peanut butter, as long as it's just ground peanuts and maybe salt.
These were the rules that I had set and was prepared to follow until that fateful day that I opened up the refrigerator and realized I couldn't eat anything whatsoever. I'm not sure where things like cheese and yogurt fell on this spectrum, but to be safe, I had decided that I would either make them myself or buy them at the Farmer's Market.
Reminder: I have not yet made it to the Farmer's Market. So that should tell you a little of how well that idea went.
Honestly, I think I would have had to tinker with my interpretation of the rules anyway, because as they stood, they barred the consumption of soy sauce, a product Pollan specifically instructs me to eat (Rule 36) So... that can't be right.
Anyway, long story short, the rule that I eventually fell upon is sort of a bunch of the rules smooshed together and modified. If it follows ALL of the other rules, and it especially has less than 5 ingredients, and I can at least imagine a human being making it, then okay. Okay fine. It counts.
Oh, additionally, if it's reasonably possible it myself rather than buying it, then it's off the nice list and on to the naughty list. Unfortunately, "reasonably possible" is a subjective term which has frequently resulted in me thinking, I am running out the door and I NEED BREAKFAST. It is not reasonably possible for me to make yogurt! Yogurt from Trader Joe's is my breakfast! and then thinking later, making yogurt isn't THAT hard. I shouldn't have done that. And then subsequently becoming filled with feelings of guilt and failure.
Anyway, now that I see it written down, I can't really explain my math for why the sum of all these rules equals "not made in a plant," but... it still sort of makes sense on an intuitive level. I suppose I can allow myself to believe that while, say, Cinnamon Toast Crunch definitely made in a plant, things like yogurt or cheese or my corn tortillas that contain corn, lime juice and salt might be made in a facility equipped for mass-production (ie, a plant) but they're essentially being made the way human beings have made them for years and years, just on a much larger scale.
Yep. That's how I'm playing this. I don't feel good about it. Just, shhhh. Just go with it.
20. Don’t ingest foods made in places where everyone is required to wear a surgical cap.
21. If it came from a plant, eat it; if it was made in a plant, don’t.
These three tricksy rules, particularly number 21, have been the bane of my existence since this project began.
When you think about it, what isn't made in a plant? Other than your most basic produce, pretty much everything can fall under some definition of having been made in a plant. Let's just start with breakfast: the coffee I drink every morning is roasted in a plant; the bread I eat it with - even if I bake in with my very own hands, the flour was probably milled in a plant (and they probably wore surgical caps too). Breakfast cereal is automatically out (which would answer my previous question), but what if I made my own granola? Well, would I put oats in my granola? Where were they rolled? (Answer: probably a plant.)
And, I suppose, this is sort of Pollan's point. Fresh produce, whole grains. That's it. That's about all that doesn't come from a plant, and at the core of the matter, that is all we need to be eating. And if it's so difficult to strip the rest of it away, well, that's what these rules are for - to make us aware of what we eat versus what we really need.
Which is all well and good on a philosophical level, but I don't knw about you, but I need a little more than that to get along, even for six weeks. A little milkfat. A little animal protien. A little sugar. And it's worth noting that nowhere in this book does Pollan explicitly advocate vegan/macrobiotic diet - which is what an all-whole grain and produce diet would resemble - although he sure seems to suggest it implicitly in this and other rules.
The fact is, if you take this rule at its strictest word, you don't even need the other 82 rules, because you're already going to be churning your own butter, Amish-style.
Okay, so obviously, we need to loosen our interpretation of "made in a plant," to some degree.
My first impulse was to say, okay, if it's packaged in a plant, but is more or less the same thing it was when it went in, that's okay. Allowable under this rule would be things like rice and certain brands of canned beans.
But that still leaves out a lot of very necessary items - most notably flour. Because how am I supposed have bread if I can't buy it in the grocery store and can't use flour to make my own? I sure wasn't going to grind my own flour and, while I see the benefits of reducing one's intake of processed grains, I think giving up bread completely is - like veganism - extreme to the point that it loses sight of the purpose of Pollan's book. Which is simple. And not extreme. Eat food. Eat real food.
Okay, so how about: foods that are basically one thing, and that one thing leaves the plant in a different form, but is still essentially just that one thing are also okay. Flour goes on this list, obviously. So does peanut butter, as long as it's just ground peanuts and maybe salt.
These were the rules that I had set and was prepared to follow until that fateful day that I opened up the refrigerator and realized I couldn't eat anything whatsoever. I'm not sure where things like cheese and yogurt fell on this spectrum, but to be safe, I had decided that I would either make them myself or buy them at the Farmer's Market.
Reminder: I have not yet made it to the Farmer's Market. So that should tell you a little of how well that idea went.
Honestly, I think I would have had to tinker with my interpretation of the rules anyway, because as they stood, they barred the consumption of soy sauce, a product Pollan specifically instructs me to eat (Rule 36) So... that can't be right.
Anyway, long story short, the rule that I eventually fell upon is sort of a bunch of the rules smooshed together and modified. If it follows ALL of the other rules, and it especially has less than 5 ingredients, and I can at least imagine a human being making it, then okay. Okay fine. It counts.
Oh, additionally, if it's reasonably possible it myself rather than buying it, then it's off the nice list and on to the naughty list. Unfortunately, "reasonably possible" is a subjective term which has frequently resulted in me thinking, I am running out the door and I NEED BREAKFAST. It is not reasonably possible for me to make yogurt! Yogurt from Trader Joe's is my breakfast! and then thinking later, making yogurt isn't THAT hard. I shouldn't have done that. And then subsequently becoming filled with feelings of guilt and failure.
Anyway, now that I see it written down, I can't really explain my math for why the sum of all these rules equals "not made in a plant," but... it still sort of makes sense on an intuitive level. I suppose I can allow myself to believe that while, say, Cinnamon Toast Crunch definitely made in a plant, things like yogurt or cheese or my corn tortillas that contain corn, lime juice and salt might be made in a facility equipped for mass-production (ie, a plant) but they're essentially being made the way human beings have made them for years and years, just on a much larger scale.
Yep. That's how I'm playing this. I don't feel good about it. Just, shhhh. Just go with it.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Day 15
12. Get out of the supermarket whenever you can.
13. Shop the peripheries of the supermarket and stay out of the middle.
First, let me say that I was shocked - shocked to discover how accurate Pollan's advice to stay out of the middle of supermarkets is. I figured this would be more of a guideline: generally won't find anything in the middle of the supermarket you're going to want to eat, but, you know, there's some stuff.
Nope, there's really not. On my first trip to the grocery store after beginning this project, I was amazed to find myself flying through the middle aisles - nope, nothing I can eat on this aisle; nothing I can't eat on this one either... moving on... It turned out that the only places I lingered at all were at the produce, meat and dairy sections, and, at the local co-op, the section of fruit, nuts and grains sold in bulk - all of which were on the peripheries.
Amazing.
And yes, that means that I've been to the supermarket. Way more than I've been to any farmers' markets, I'm ashamed to say.
Getting out of the supermarket has proven surprisingly difficult, although in hindsight it probably shouldn't have, given how much trouble I tend to have getting into the supermarket in the first place.
In New York, I used to do my grocery shopping at midnight. Really. There was a 24-hour grocery store across the street from the restaurant where I got off work I'd stop in for milk or coffee for the next morning, and anything else I happened to be running low on. This system does not work here in New Mexico, not the least of reasons being grocery stores in the normal world are apparently not open at midnight.
I haven't really gotten a new system down, so I've become one of those people who peer into the fridge and think, Let's see, I've got an old tortilla and a half an onion... can I make a meal out of this?
Mmm, fresh local chiles. Why can't I get to this? So close, yet so far away...
Compounding the matter is the fact that the Albuquerque Growers' Market does not occur during the winter months. I've found a few farmers' market alternatives, none which are particularly convenient. There are a few Albuquerque area winter markets:
The Los Ranchos Market:
City Hall, 6718 Rio Grande Blvd. NW
10-12 on the second Saturday of every month
The Corrales Growers' Market:
500 Jones Rd. & Corrales Rd.
11-1 on the first Sunday of every month
But because of the hours and location, the most convenient winter farmers' market is Santa Fe Farmers' Market which happens every single Saturday and Sunday and appears to have a pretty wide selection including - OMG OMG - locally farmed chicken which I have thus far been able to find nowhere in Albuquerque (thought I still have a few more places to try).
What's more, market is at the Santa Fe Railyards, literally right off the train from Albuquerque.
Still, life takes over, weekends - which are meant to be kept free exactly for things like this - inevitably fill up, and here I am, over two weeks into the project and have not yet made it up to Santa Fe for the market. Nor will I next weekend, either.
Here is a win, though: I've signed up for Skarsgard Farms' CSA. I've been visiting their website like a deranged stalker since moving to Albuquerque, debating whether or not to sign up; whether the produce will be too much for me to eat on my own.
But you know what? FORGET IT. It's local(ish), it's organic, and it's delivered to my door. If a few apples end up rotting, so be it.
(And speaking of CSAs, my favorite little restaurant, Farm & Table, will be starting their own CSA from their farm come next growing season. One of the many reasons I love working there.)
I have to admit, it saddens me a little that the only New Mexico farm that is part of the Skarsgard Farms CSA is Skarsgard Farms itself. The other participants are from California, Colarado, and even a farm in Mexico. I mean, it's still good: they're all small, organic farms and collectives and, really, they're not that far away, but still. They're not New Mexico; they're pretty far away.
This is a moment where I have to step back and really take to heart that old adage: Don't let perfect be the enemy of the good. I do that a lot. I'm an all or nothing girl. I think "Aggh! This apple is from an organic farm in California! Why can't I get an apple grown any closer than that? Forget it, it's all a waste of time. I'll just buy my apples from wherever."
And that's not fair. An apple grown on an organic farm two states away is better than one pumped full of pesticides and flown in all the way from South America.
It's baby steps.
13. Shop the peripheries of the supermarket and stay out of the middle.
First, let me say that I was shocked - shocked to discover how accurate Pollan's advice to stay out of the middle of supermarkets is. I figured this would be more of a guideline: generally won't find anything in the middle of the supermarket you're going to want to eat, but, you know, there's some stuff.
Nope, there's really not. On my first trip to the grocery store after beginning this project, I was amazed to find myself flying through the middle aisles - nope, nothing I can eat on this aisle; nothing I can't eat on this one either... moving on... It turned out that the only places I lingered at all were at the produce, meat and dairy sections, and, at the local co-op, the section of fruit, nuts and grains sold in bulk - all of which were on the peripheries.
Amazing.
And yes, that means that I've been to the supermarket. Way more than I've been to any farmers' markets, I'm ashamed to say.
Getting out of the supermarket has proven surprisingly difficult, although in hindsight it probably shouldn't have, given how much trouble I tend to have getting into the supermarket in the first place.
In New York, I used to do my grocery shopping at midnight. Really. There was a 24-hour grocery store across the street from the restaurant where I got off work I'd stop in for milk or coffee for the next morning, and anything else I happened to be running low on. This system does not work here in New Mexico, not the least of reasons being grocery stores in the normal world are apparently not open at midnight.
I haven't really gotten a new system down, so I've become one of those people who peer into the fridge and think, Let's see, I've got an old tortilla and a half an onion... can I make a meal out of this?
Compounding the matter is the fact that the Albuquerque Growers' Market does not occur during the winter months. I've found a few farmers' market alternatives, none which are particularly convenient. There are a few Albuquerque area winter markets:
The Los Ranchos Market:
City Hall, 6718 Rio Grande Blvd. NW
10-12 on the second Saturday of every month
The Corrales Growers' Market:
500 Jones Rd. & Corrales Rd.
11-1 on the first Sunday of every month
But because of the hours and location, the most convenient winter farmers' market is Santa Fe Farmers' Market which happens every single Saturday and Sunday and appears to have a pretty wide selection including - OMG OMG - locally farmed chicken which I have thus far been able to find nowhere in Albuquerque (thought I still have a few more places to try).
What's more, market is at the Santa Fe Railyards, literally right off the train from Albuquerque.
Still, life takes over, weekends - which are meant to be kept free exactly for things like this - inevitably fill up, and here I am, over two weeks into the project and have not yet made it up to Santa Fe for the market. Nor will I next weekend, either.
Here is a win, though: I've signed up for Skarsgard Farms' CSA. I've been visiting their website like a deranged stalker since moving to Albuquerque, debating whether or not to sign up; whether the produce will be too much for me to eat on my own.
But you know what? FORGET IT. It's local(ish), it's organic, and it's delivered to my door. If a few apples end up rotting, so be it.
(And speaking of CSAs, my favorite little restaurant, Farm & Table, will be starting their own CSA from their farm come next growing season. One of the many reasons I love working there.)
I have to admit, it saddens me a little that the only New Mexico farm that is part of the Skarsgard Farms CSA is Skarsgard Farms itself. The other participants are from California, Colarado, and even a farm in Mexico. I mean, it's still good: they're all small, organic farms and collectives and, really, they're not that far away, but still. They're not New Mexico; they're pretty far away.
This is a moment where I have to step back and really take to heart that old adage: Don't let perfect be the enemy of the good. I do that a lot. I'm an all or nothing girl. I think "Aggh! This apple is from an organic farm in California! Why can't I get an apple grown any closer than that? Forget it, it's all a waste of time. I'll just buy my apples from wherever."
And that's not fair. An apple grown on an organic farm two states away is better than one pumped full of pesticides and flown in all the way from South America.
It's baby steps.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Day 8
4. Avoid food products that contain high-fructose corn syrup.
5. Avoid food products that have some form of sugar (or sweetener listed among) the top three ingredients.
For my ninth birthday party, I had begged my parents for Crystal Pepsi. Remember Crystal Pepsi? I was obsessed with it. It tasted like Pepsi! But it was totally clear! Amazing! I was dying to try it, but my parents, health nuts even in the 80's before it became du jour, forbade it. They made an exception for my special day, though, and I could not wait. The first thing I did when my first guest, a sweet mousy girl named Shannon, arrived was foist a tall glass of Crystal Pepsi upon her.
"Does this have sugar in it?" she asked. "My mom says I'm not allowed to have sugar. It makes me too hyper."
"I don't know," I said. "Let's check." We read the ingredients together; I didn't understand a full two-thirds of them, but none of them were sugar. "Good to go," I said, and handed her her glass.
Needless to say, she went bananas.
That was the moment when I learned that lots of labels say "high fructose corn syrup" when they mean to say "sugar." It eventually became filed under the list of the villianous, unpronouncable ingredients, like potassium sulfate and sodium bicarbonate, that my mom constantly denounced but that still popped up in most everything, so I came to understand as unavoidable evils, like cancer, or homework.
It wasn't until I read the Omnivore's Dilemma in college that I got an idea of just how disruptive the ubiquitousness of high fructose corn syrup is both to the environment and to our health.
And, even my mom, the devoted health nut, had a whole slew of offenders lurking in her refrigerator.
Lots of these items, like the chocolate syrup and the Oreo-bits were bought for special occasions and then squirreled away for years, I'd be willing to guess, until I brought them to light for this photo.
Others, though, are everyday items, and it appears as though the worst offenders are the condiments. Ketchup, barbecue sauce, pickles, etc. I actually remember the day I bought those sweet pickles. I searched the entire store thrice over, and could not believe that I could not buy a single jar of pickles that didn't contain high fructose corn syrup.
How cruel, as condiments are just about the hardest to replace with homemade or at least person-made equivalents. In fact, that's probably exactly why condiments are the last bastion of high fructose corn syrup in our refrigerator. There's no simple alternative.
Case in point: I got super-excited to share a family recipe for homemade barbecue sauce that is utterly delicious, until I realized that the first ingredient is ketchup. Womp-womp.
This isn't necessarily a problem for this project - worst comes to worst, I can live without ketchup for six weeks. But what if I want to get away from the processed over-sweetened goop they sell in the supermarket post-Lent? Well, you can buy these newfangled "all natural" versions of ketchup they sell now, but they still break the other two of the three rules listed today, and about a million other rules as well. And you can certainly try your hand at homemade ketchup, but it only keeps for about a month, and I use ketchup maybe once every two months. Also, to be blunt, it looks like a real bitch to make.
What does one do here? I'm a big believer in voting with my money, and I'm a little irked that there's no way for me to cast my vote here, even if I wanted to. Part of me, the rational part of me, says, Ya know, you can't win them all. You don't even eat ketchup that much, so when you do, just buy the crap in the bottle.
But then the other part of me, the part that thought this project was a good idea in the first place, says, Don't let the man win!!!
What do you think? What would you do? Would you stick to your guns, no matter how it might affect your ketchup consumption? Or would you accept the fact that as long as the food industry exists as we know it, long lists of "edible foodlike substances" will eventually worm their way into our lives - an inevitable evil, like I once believed?
5. Avoid food products that have some form of sugar (or sweetener listed among) the top three ingredients.
For my ninth birthday party, I had begged my parents for Crystal Pepsi. Remember Crystal Pepsi? I was obsessed with it. It tasted like Pepsi! But it was totally clear! Amazing! I was dying to try it, but my parents, health nuts even in the 80's before it became du jour, forbade it. They made an exception for my special day, though, and I could not wait. The first thing I did when my first guest, a sweet mousy girl named Shannon, arrived was foist a tall glass of Crystal Pepsi upon her.
"Does this have sugar in it?" she asked. "My mom says I'm not allowed to have sugar. It makes me too hyper."
"I don't know," I said. "Let's check." We read the ingredients together; I didn't understand a full two-thirds of them, but none of them were sugar. "Good to go," I said, and handed her her glass.
Needless to say, she went bananas.
That was the moment when I learned that lots of labels say "high fructose corn syrup" when they mean to say "sugar." It eventually became filed under the list of the villianous, unpronouncable ingredients, like potassium sulfate and sodium bicarbonate, that my mom constantly denounced but that still popped up in most everything, so I came to understand as unavoidable evils, like cancer, or homework.
It wasn't until I read the Omnivore's Dilemma in college that I got an idea of just how disruptive the ubiquitousness of high fructose corn syrup is both to the environment and to our health.
And, even my mom, the devoted health nut, had a whole slew of offenders lurking in her refrigerator.
Lots of these items, like the chocolate syrup and the Oreo-bits were bought for special occasions and then squirreled away for years, I'd be willing to guess, until I brought them to light for this photo.
Others, though, are everyday items, and it appears as though the worst offenders are the condiments. Ketchup, barbecue sauce, pickles, etc. I actually remember the day I bought those sweet pickles. I searched the entire store thrice over, and could not believe that I could not buy a single jar of pickles that didn't contain high fructose corn syrup.
How cruel, as condiments are just about the hardest to replace with homemade or at least person-made equivalents. In fact, that's probably exactly why condiments are the last bastion of high fructose corn syrup in our refrigerator. There's no simple alternative.
Case in point: I got super-excited to share a family recipe for homemade barbecue sauce that is utterly delicious, until I realized that the first ingredient is ketchup. Womp-womp.
This isn't necessarily a problem for this project - worst comes to worst, I can live without ketchup for six weeks. But what if I want to get away from the processed over-sweetened goop they sell in the supermarket post-Lent? Well, you can buy these newfangled "all natural" versions of ketchup they sell now, but they still break the other two of the three rules listed today, and about a million other rules as well. And you can certainly try your hand at homemade ketchup, but it only keeps for about a month, and I use ketchup maybe once every two months. Also, to be blunt, it looks like a real bitch to make.
What does one do here? I'm a big believer in voting with my money, and I'm a little irked that there's no way for me to cast my vote here, even if I wanted to. Part of me, the rational part of me, says, Ya know, you can't win them all. You don't even eat ketchup that much, so when you do, just buy the crap in the bottle.
But then the other part of me, the part that thought this project was a good idea in the first place, says, Don't let the man win!!!
What do you think? What would you do? Would you stick to your guns, no matter how it might affect your ketchup consumption? Or would you accept the fact that as long as the food industry exists as we know it, long lists of "edible foodlike substances" will eventually worm their way into our lives - an inevitable evil, like I once believed?
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Days 1-7
1. Eat food.
2. Don't eat anything your great-grandmother wouldn't recognize as food.
3. Avoid food products containing ingredients that no ordinary human would keep in the pantry.
In a perfect world, I would have started writing on the day I actually started this whole food rules project, but life, as it tends to, got in the way. Today marks day 7 of the project, but we'll still begin at the very beginning and start at rule 1: Eat food.
It's pretty awesomely fitting that I should struggle with the very first rule on the very first day, although I think when Pollan said to eat food, he was talking about eating real food as opposed to what he calls, "edible foodlike substances." He wasn't actually instructing me to, you know, eat in general. That part should be fairly self-explanatory. And yet, that's exactly what happened.
This is what happened in my head last Wednesday when I started. I went up to the Santa Fe Farmer's Market the week before and stocked up on locally made bread, cheese, yogurt and meat. I signed up for the Skarsgard Farms CSA, ensuring myself a steady supply of locally grown, organic produce. And I took all of these delicious, fresh, local ingredients and turned them into smoothies, casseroles, stir-fry's and other pre-made, ready-to-grab breakfasts and lunches for the coming week.
Here's what actually happened: I woke up on Wednesday morning and thought, Oh shit, what am I going to eat?!?
I prowled around the kitchen in a sleepy stupor for about a half an hour and probably opened and closed the fridge in frustration before getting confused five minutes later and opening it again about a dozen times when I eventually realized with amazement there is absolutely nothing in this house I can eat.
Seriously, before that moment on Wednesday when I opened up the fridge for the last time in utter defeat, I was planning to, like, make my own yogurt. I was definitely going to stay away from boxed breakfast cereal. But here I was, on the very first day, settling on some weird, ultra-healthy sprouted grain cereal my mom likes to eat and sighing as I decided that yogurt not made by me, but at least containing nothing but milk and live active cultures was going to have to be good enough.
Wednesday was a bad day. All I could muster up for lunch was a salad and by dinner I was tired, hungry, and beaten down. It didn't help that I lost my driver's license on the bus - my New York driver's license. A little part of my old life that I could carry around; a reminder to myself and everyone else that I was there. I was a part of that world. But now I have to go down to the DMV and get a New Mexico license again, because I am not there anymore. That is not my world anymore.
I lay on the couch, grieving and listening to my tummy rumble so loud the neighbor's probably heard it and all I could think was, forget it. There was nothing for me to eat, and it just wasn't worth it to get up and try and figure it out. Now, I am not one of those skinny bitches who get to 5 o'clock in the afternoon and realize they haven't eaten anything all day. I love food. I always remember to eat. But that night, I just could not find it in me to eat dinner. Breakfast and lunch the next day were similarly light, and, again, by dinner, I was famished but finished.
On Day Three I bought found some local Yukon Gold potatoes, and that baked potato I had for lunch was the most satisfying the I've ever eaten. I don't usually eat potatoes; I've always been fairly strict about what Pollan lists as Rule 43, but I threw out that rule and my own personal one in order to eat the first real meal I had had in three days.
I have not been to the Farmer's Market, nor started ordering from Skarsgard, but I've at least been to La Montanita, the all-natural, crunchy-hippy local co-op in town, and it looks like I've got the concept of eating food under control. At least for the time being. Unfortunately, I've had to compromise a lot more than I'd hoped with the following 82 rules just to manage that very first one with some modicum of success.
2. Don't eat anything your great-grandmother wouldn't recognize as food.
3. Avoid food products containing ingredients that no ordinary human would keep in the pantry.
In a perfect world, I would have started writing on the day I actually started this whole food rules project, but life, as it tends to, got in the way. Today marks day 7 of the project, but we'll still begin at the very beginning and start at rule 1: Eat food.
It's pretty awesomely fitting that I should struggle with the very first rule on the very first day, although I think when Pollan said to eat food, he was talking about eating real food as opposed to what he calls, "edible foodlike substances." He wasn't actually instructing me to, you know, eat in general. That part should be fairly self-explanatory. And yet, that's exactly what happened.
This is what happened in my head last Wednesday when I started. I went up to the Santa Fe Farmer's Market the week before and stocked up on locally made bread, cheese, yogurt and meat. I signed up for the Skarsgard Farms CSA, ensuring myself a steady supply of locally grown, organic produce. And I took all of these delicious, fresh, local ingredients and turned them into smoothies, casseroles, stir-fry's and other pre-made, ready-to-grab breakfasts and lunches for the coming week.
Here's what actually happened: I woke up on Wednesday morning and thought, Oh shit, what am I going to eat?!?
I prowled around the kitchen in a sleepy stupor for about a half an hour and probably opened and closed the fridge in frustration before getting confused five minutes later and opening it again about a dozen times when I eventually realized with amazement there is absolutely nothing in this house I can eat.
Seriously, before that moment on Wednesday when I opened up the fridge for the last time in utter defeat, I was planning to, like, make my own yogurt. I was definitely going to stay away from boxed breakfast cereal. But here I was, on the very first day, settling on some weird, ultra-healthy sprouted grain cereal my mom likes to eat and sighing as I decided that yogurt not made by me, but at least containing nothing but milk and live active cultures was going to have to be good enough.
Wednesday was a bad day. All I could muster up for lunch was a salad and by dinner I was tired, hungry, and beaten down. It didn't help that I lost my driver's license on the bus - my New York driver's license. A little part of my old life that I could carry around; a reminder to myself and everyone else that I was there. I was a part of that world. But now I have to go down to the DMV and get a New Mexico license again, because I am not there anymore. That is not my world anymore.
I lay on the couch, grieving and listening to my tummy rumble so loud the neighbor's probably heard it and all I could think was, forget it. There was nothing for me to eat, and it just wasn't worth it to get up and try and figure it out. Now, I am not one of those skinny bitches who get to 5 o'clock in the afternoon and realize they haven't eaten anything all day. I love food. I always remember to eat. But that night, I just could not find it in me to eat dinner. Breakfast and lunch the next day were similarly light, and, again, by dinner, I was famished but finished.
On Day Three I bought found some local Yukon Gold potatoes, and that baked potato I had for lunch was the most satisfying the I've ever eaten. I don't usually eat potatoes; I've always been fairly strict about what Pollan lists as Rule 43, but I threw out that rule and my own personal one in order to eat the first real meal I had had in three days.
I have not been to the Farmer's Market, nor started ordering from Skarsgard, but I've at least been to La Montanita, the all-natural, crunchy-hippy local co-op in town, and it looks like I've got the concept of eating food under control. At least for the time being. Unfortunately, I've had to compromise a lot more than I'd hoped with the following 82 rules just to manage that very first one with some modicum of success.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)