Losing weight, finding me, healthy, easy recipes

Archive for April, 2012

Set points, sloppy joes and settling points

I think I’m happy to have found this article by Joseph Hooper in the March issue of Elle magazine. It explains why I went at weight work this morning with a bang that’s left me still breathing hard 20 minutes afterward.

There’s no reason for this piece to be titled “Sexy and I Know It,” unless that hed is for a monthly column because the piece itself is about keeping weight off after you lose it and how very, very tough that is (only 2 to 20 percent of losers manage). Mostly, because our bodies themselves are fighting our good intentions. (I nominate myself for a place in what he calls the “one-woman hunger museum.”)

Science is pretty clear by now that anyone losing more than 10 percent of her/his body weight “experience(s) a corresponding change in crucial appetite-regulating hormones.” In other damn words, lose weight and feel hungrier.

And while I’m losing weight, science also says my metabolism is slowing down. Curses! As if it weren’t already comatose. So I can only be successful by doing as the author’s wife — paying “undying attention to what she eats and how much she exercises.”

The silver lining in this big, purple cloud is “outfoxing our uncooperative physiolog(ies) with exercise. ” Weight training and sprint work seem to help, but “The most important priority is to get regular exercise and plenty of it,” as much as one hour daily.

This is a really well-written and researched piece (why I keep lifting quotations). Hooper cites Dr.George Blackburn as recommending that we lose no more than 10 percent of our weight, slowly, then simply maintain that loss for six months “to let your body metabolically recalibrate.” Jury’s still out on whether our bodies actually do that, but I like the idea of just staying for a bit at this weight of 198, which is probably what the authors call my set point. My settling point, which they also use, is probably more like it. Eventually, I’d like to not settle and continue on my way to 174.

In the meantime, I’ll eat a diet heavy in vegetables and fruit, curtail sugar (maybe even dairy and gluten when I can without being a diet diva), and exercise, exercise, exercise. Oh, and get plenty of sleep. Hoping someday to, paraphrasing Hooper, embrace healthier new habits as real pleasures.

I know you can use protein crumbles in your same old, same old sloppy joe recipe, but I’m not supposed to eat soy (too much estrogen) so I  really enjoyed this variation from the April issue of Parenting magazine. My best guess is about 400 calories per sandwich with an onion hamburger bun, 1 ounce of grated cheddar and 1/2 cup of the sloppy joe mixture.

Black bean and salsa sloppy joes

I used a corn and black bean salsa which ups the protein content ever so slightly.

2 teaspoons olive oil

3 minced garlic cloves

2-1/2 cups rinsed, drained canned black beans

1 15-ounce jar mild chunky salsa

1 tablespoon brown sugar

1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce

1 teaspoon Dijon-type mustard

1/2 teaspoon ground cumin

1/4 teaspoon salt

Cheddar cheese, shredded

In large skillet, heat oil and add garlic, sauteing until golden (don’t leave — it chars in the blink of an eye). Stir in beans, salsa, brown sugar, Worcestershire, mustard, cumin and salt. Bring to simmer and cook for 10 minutes. Spoon onto buns and top with cheese. Stuffs 4 sandwiches.

Five guys, anniversary and pickled eggs

I have a long-time friend who’s said since she met His Royal Plaidshirtness (HRP) that he’s one of only 5 good guys in the galaxy and that if I ever leave him, she will personally take me apart. I agree he’s one of the good guys, and I happily think back to 24 years ago at this moment  when oldest daughter Joanna and I were on our way to Divajade to get our hairs done for the 1 p.m. wedding whoopdedo up here in the pasture.

A good partnership at work: Lew, Dannye and their 3-year-old grandson, Townes. Baby eating Greek yogurt.

At the same time, or near’bouts, daughter Alexandra was headed for a shower in HRP’s grandparents’ pink shingled house where she spent the night and discovered just how many praying mantis nymphs hatch from one egg case (up to 400, evidently). 

I don’t agree with the 5 good guys part, though. Projecting myself back into yesterday’s choir loft I see many more than 5 men who are grownups, who are funny, sexy, committed to their relationships and hard at work at something, be it a job, a father-daughter dance, babysitting for grandchildren or cheering a daughter-in-law’s flute solo.

HRP is the right guy for me who will always (damn his eyes!) call me on my delusional thinking, but there are plenty of others “out there,” including the loving, longtime husband of my friend Dannye, who hosted a real ladies’ lunch for us old newsroom gals last week. I know for sure Lew made the good coffee, and I’m guessing he helped with a few other things as well. The house and yard and table were completely Southern Living-perfect, and Dannye taught us how to make good deviled eggs without mayonnaise (hummus, yellow French’s mustard and a few drops of Tabasco).

All of us ate the pickled beets, but I alone braved the pickled eggs. I’m a Pennsylvania Dutch girl, and pickled eggs are just a colorful part of that. I’ve eaten some from a sketchy-looking gallon jar on a bar, but mostly I’ve made my own by peeling hard-boiled eggs and letting them take it easy for a few days in a non-reactive container (glass or stainless steel) of pickling beets. 

I use the easy-breezy-lemon-squeezy pickled beets directions from the always reliable 1987 Fearrington House Cookbook: A Celebration of Food, Flowers and Herbs (Jenny Fitch, Ventana Press, Inc.). The older my taste buds become, the more I find I enjoy a small, piquant taste of pickle with many meals.

Pickled beets (and eggs)

A fuzzy picture of chicken salad, grape tomatoes, chips, a deviled egg, pickled beets and a very colorful pickled egg. You can see how the pickling liquid works through the white.

1-1/2 pounds fresh beets, cooked, trimmed, peeled and cut into wedges

1/2 cup water

1/2 cup cider vinegar

1/2 cup sugar

2 whole cloves

1/2 teaspoon pickling spices, tied with cook’s twine in cheesecloth

Combine water, vinegar, sugar and cloves and bring to boil. Add pickling spice packet and stir until sugar dissolves. Pour over beets. Add hard-boiled eggs for a little taste adventure and cover the container. Let sit, refrigerated for 2 or 3 days (stirring gently every now and then), but serve pickles at room temperature.

 

We are feminists (who like to eat and, sometimes, cook)

The tiresome women who insist that feminists oppose love and marriage make me tired. The young women who insist that they’re not feminists make me tired.

Miriam in her studio

In my mind — and it’s been this way since the scales fell from my consciousness in the mid-1970s — real feminists want women and men to have the widest possible range of choices. Children, no children, house-husband, house-wife — as far as I’m concerned all fit within the rubric of feminism (whatever that might be) as long as people engage productively in their world.

Some of the most interesting women I’ve known have been stay-at-home moms. Conversely, some of the most boring, self-involved people (male and female) I’ve met have supposedly great careers. And so it goes.

I don’t know Ann Romney, but I have a Mormon friend without pots of money who works hard every day at home to make her children good citizens of the world. She makes the best bread I’ve ever eaten, taught me to like kale (in a sausage chowder), met her husband when they were both in the Army and jumped out of a plane for the first time when she was pregnant with her oldest. Now that’s a woman, hear her roar!

Just before Easter three of my former newsroom buddies and I met for wine and laughter in Miriam’s painting studio (you can see some of her lovely work behind her or get a better look at Miriamdurkin.com).

Among the 4 of us we’ve had 7 marriages, 9 children and, so far, 9 grandchildren (Three of us had very young marriages in the beliefs that if we didn’t marry right then! we’d never have another chance and that an unmarried woman was a non-person.) We’ve written poetry, written about books, movies, pop music, dance; NASCAR; we’ve edited same. We’ve walked dogs, baked cookies (or not), diapered babies and traveled for fun and for work when those babies were sick (or not).

In 34 years we have never had nothing to discuss!

Then, of course, we went out for supper at The Pewter Rose, a favorite bistro now owned and run by the wife of one of our former newsroom photographers. And what does it tell you that we ALL ordered the same special — a whiskey- and honey-glazed salmon fillet over baby greens with lemon-basil vinaigrette,  goat cheese and candied walnuts ?

My somewhat warm and fuzzy point is, I think!, we need to drop the labels and do what it takes to wake up in the mornings drug-free and looking forward to the day, open to the unexpected and to change. And help others do the same. And strew this life path with good food that somebody has cooked. Like this 384-calorie per serving Cajun shrimp, spinach and grits from the May issue of Woman’s Day magazine.

Shrimp and grits has (have?) become a cliche on Southern menus, but this version is so colorful and healthy that it breathes new life into that fixture. And, p.s., my husband fixed the grits. Perfectly. For more nutritional pop serve with blood orange slices and broiled Roma tomato halves, topped with olive oil, salt, pepper, thyme and a wee bit of brown sugar.

Cajun shrimp, spinach and grits

1 cup quick-cooking grits

2 tablespoons olive oil

1-1/2 pounds large peeled and deveined shrimp

2 teaspoons Cajun or blackening seasoning (low- or no-salt)

1/2 teaspoon salt, divided, and pepper to taste

2 tablespoons fresh lime juice

2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced

1 cup frozen corn, thawed, or canned whole-kernel corn, rinsed and drained

1 bunch spinach, thick stems discarded

Cook grits according to package directions (thank you, el Patron, as his Salvadoran milkhands used to call him). Meanwhile, heat 1 tablespoon oil in large skillet over medium-high heat. Season shrimp with Cajun seasoning and 1/4 teaspoon salt and cook for 2 minutes. Turn and cook until pink opaque throughout, 1 to 2 minutes more. Remove skillet from heat, add lime juice and toss to coat. Transfer to plate and wipe out skillet with paper towel.

Heat remaining 1 tablespoon oil over medium heat. Add garlic and cook, stirring, until golden, 1 to 2 minutes. Add corn and heat through. Add spinach and 1/4 teaspoon each salt and pepper and cook, tossing, for 1 minute. Return shrimp to skillet and toss to combine. If spinach has not wilted, turn off heat and put lid on skillet until it does. Serve over grits, or gree-yuts as it’s pronounced in these parts.

I mistakenly (!) added 2 tablespoons of the Cajun seasoning, and it was not too much. Maybe my seasoning is old and faded, maybe it’s my tastebuds or maybe this dish just needs that “Bam!”

Granddaughter Ashley embodies the joy possible in any good -ism.

Neuroses, chocolate bunnies and tuna casserole

I will never be able to eat everything I want to eat. I will never be able to eat enough to make me “happy” (read: numb). I will never be able to eat enough to make me feel loved, appreciated, beautiful, fill in the blank (and this I mean literally — the hollow that is within me is like that of a chocolate bunny).

OK, having realized that, can I now move on with my life? Please? Millions of privileged, normal-weight people do that daily, hourly even. Look at a cupcake, the rest of the tortilla chips, whatever, and hear an internal voice that says, simply, “No, I can’t.” And that’s the end of it. There’s no tussle back and forth between the lean conscience and the chubby devils on the shoulders. Just: I can’t.

No problem for me with alcohol, drugs and cigarettes. Just the peanuts in the pantry, the ice cream in the freezer.

Years ago as a struggling single mother of two, I remember rushing home from work to a beer or two while I fixed supper. Then the moment that I realized how much I was looking forward to that beer or two and that I couldn’t drink alone and lonely. That was the end of it. Now, I’d like my Easter miracle, please, to be that this is my end of over-eating to make myself “feel better.” I do believe in fairies, I do, I do, or anything else that will help me take this huge step.

Except that nothing can help me. Only I can take it. Again and again. And again. The bunny never feels full, only complete or devoured. I’m aiming at my version of complete, which is the best I can be. Happy Palm Sunday.

And in a lurching segue (oxymoron alert!), this is the best tuna casserole I’ve ever tasted. The recipe says it makes 4 servings, but they are huge. Can easily be 6 or 8 with a huge serving of spring greens beside. And a blood orange is the perfect capper to make you forget you might “need” a cookie or two.  Use reduced-fat sour cream, mayonnaise and milk, and it still has a decadent mouth feel.

Tuna noodle supreme from Ellen Proctor of Great Barrington, MA, on allrecipes.com several years ago:

1-1/2 cups sour cream

1/2 cup mayonnaise

1/2 cup milk

1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese

1 teaspoon Dijon mustard

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon pepper

4 cups cooked small pasta shells (I hate it when a recipe doesn’t give you the amount of UN-cooked pasta — I used 3 cups uncooked, and it made a little more than 4 cups of cooked small shells.)

2 cups broccoli florets

1 12-ounce can tuna, drained and flaked

1/2 cup chopped sweet red pepper

1/2 cup sliced green onions

Heat oven to 350º. In large bowl, combine sour cream, mayonnaise, milk, cheese, mustard, salt and pepper. Stir in cooked pasta, broccoli, tuna, red pepper and onions. Transfer to oil-sprayed 2-quart baking dish. Cover and bake for 40 to 45 minutes until hot and bubbly. If you like a little crunch around the edges of your pasta, finish with 5 minutes of uncovered baking time. Note: For either fresh or frozen broccoli florets, throw into pasta cooking water for last minute or two of pasta cooking time. Drain pasta and broccoli together and continue with recipe.

 

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