Many years of constant travel for both business and pleasure and living fifteen years in one of the world's great food cities (New Orleans) have turned me into someone who can tell good cooking from bad, and I'm never shy about voicing my opinions when faced with mediocre food.
My abundant size is proof that I haven't skipped many meals over the years.
Some of the best meals of my life have been expensive and served in fancy restaurants or in exotic locales. A dinner in an ultra-chic restaurant in Paris last summer cost hundreds of dollars per person and the experience was worth every penny. A special Peking duck dinner in Beijing a few years back was the real deal and so delicious it rendered me stupid for a day or so.
I might be a food snob, but that doesn't mean food has to be expensive to be wonderful. Under the right circumstances a Big Mac and fries meets my criteria for gourmet cuisine. Street food in the Third World can put my American tummy out of commission for a couple of days, but for me the risk is usually worth it. I remember fish tacos in Mexico, a concoction called doubles in Trinidad, fried minnows in Finland and loads of other UFOs sold off of carts on the streets in almost any city I can think of. Almost all of them were yummy. You can eat very well for a buck or two almost anywhere in the world, if you follow the locals and you know where to look.
For me, the worst restaurants on the planet are the mid-priced chain joints here in the good ole USA. Olive Garden, Applebees, Outback, and their cousins are anti-cuisine. I find the food at these places to be bland, boring and way overpriced for what you get, even if the portions skew to the huge side. I'd much rather pay double or more for a few bites of really good food at a serious restaurant, spend about the same for a lovely meal at a family-run ethnic restaurant or just stay at home and cook for myself.
Good food is on my mind today for a couple of reasons, since I won't be getting any of it for the next little while.
One day last week I decided to go an entire day without eating. I did this out of curiosity and not for religious or health reasons. I made it about 36-hours with just water and other zero calorie beverages.
I've never fasted before. It wasn't a pleasant experience, but it wasn't the torture I expected, either. I was hungry the entire time, but after the first eight hours or so the hunger was manageable. I never felt weak and wasn't any grumpier than usual. At the end of 36 hours, I felt like I could continue the fast indefinitely, but decided not to without knowing more about what I was doing to myself.
The most surprising thing about the fast was that the bathroom scale told me I weighed two pounds more at the end of my 36-hour fast than when I began. That just ain't right people. What's up with that?
I've heard of people going on 40-day religious fasts where they only drank fruit juices and water, but I don't think I'm up for anything that drastic.
Teri and I chose today as the day to re-boot our diets and shed some of that poundage that attached itself to us over the winter. I'm a little less fat than I was at this point last year, but most people wouldn't be able to notice the difference.
This will be my thousandth diet, and I don't hold much hope for it working any better than the previous 999 over the long term.
Teri chose the method of kick starting our diets--it's one of those wacky regimens that involve the unfortunate word cleansing. It consists of eating organic brown rice and veggies. That's it. I'm going to play along with her, but I'll add a little fish to the mix too.
I'm also spending a lot of time on the treadmill these days. To tell you the truth, I don't think the exercise does much for me other than work up a serious appetite.
We'll see how this latest weight loss effort goes, but I doubt I can last long enough on brown rice to get get skinny from it. I'm sure I'll be bored with this wonder diet in no time and dive back to the ice cream and cookies.
That reminds me, our niece delivered our four boxes of Girl Scout cookies over the weekend. I begged Teri to take them to school today to give away to her always-hungry college students so they wouldn't tempt us. I wonder if she remembered to take the three boxes that are left after we went into our Samoa-eating frenzy on Saturday.
Excuse me while I check.
Nope, they're still out there, and they're calling my name right now. Thin mints and cold milk--ummmm, so goood.
Must resist. Must resist. Must resist.
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