What's the Scariest Thing About Halloween?

     Well, I'm very glad you asked, and I will tell you.  The scariest thing about Halloween is PUMPKIN SPICE PEEPS.  Dear God, is nothing sacred?  Those horrifying little creatures with the demonic eyes are now officially everywhere all the time.  No holiday is safe.  And if there doesn't happen to be a designated holiday on the calendar, the fine folks at Peeps HQ will force Jurassic Park Dinosaur Egg Peeps down our throats. I kid you not; I have seen them with my own two eyes, and trust me, they are not even remotely as scary as the original yellow-that-is-not-found-in-nature variety. What are we to do?  I for one am still strongly in favor of nuking to kingdom come each and every Peepie individual in the microwave, but frankly, I'd rather not deal with the messy consequences.  So for now, I simply walk down grocery store aisles trying to avoid beady eye contact with them.  I'm pretty sure if I look at one too long, I'll turn to stone.  Or marshmallow.  

Smaller Portions, Bigger World

     Here we are again, thigh-deep in a frenzy of pre-summer shaping up or trying desperately to maintain our new figures after finally losing those holiday hips.  Are you finding either one challenging?  If so, here's a little tip that may come in handy the next time you're dining out: NEVER EAT ANYTHING BIGGER THAN YOUR HEAD.  Honestly, what is up with portion sizes at restaurants these days?  Chances are, if you order from anything but the little tykes' menu, there will be placed before you enough food to keep you going for a week -- and going strongly.  Who thought this was a good idea?

     Here's a thought: Don't eat all of it.  But wouldn't that be wasteful?  Heavens, no; you'll actually be saving money because you can eat those leftovers for lunch or dinner the next day.  In fact, if you already know what to expect, ask your server to package up half your plate before it's brought to the table.  Then -- and here's the hard part -- stop eating when you feel full.  It's not easy, I know, especially if you're out with friends, chatting merrily away, and everyone else is ordering cheesecake.  Why, it can be downright painful to stop eating while others munch on.  But look at it this way: If you'll learn to pay attention to your body and recognize when you've had enough, you can eat pretty much anything you want.  Just eat less of it.  (Please note that individuals with cardiovascular disease or diabetes may need to be more stringent about their food choices.)

     I'm all about portion control because I am just dreadful at giving up entire food groups.  Do not tell me that I can't have that mound of mashed potatoes -- I may harm you.  But if I can have just a few bites of those mashed potatoes, I'll savor every morsel, we'll all get out of here safely, and I won't be seeing evidence of them around my middle by the time I get home.

     So if you're struggling with trying to control your intake of sugar or fats or carbohydrates, consider this approach.  Now ALL foods are available to you.  Enjoy a small portion or just a couple of bites of anything you wish, and the first few bites are always the best anyway, right?  And, oh yes, even if its just a salad fit for King Kong, NEVER EAT ANYTHING BIGGER THAN YOUR HEAD!

 

What Do I Do With All These Easter Eggs?!?

Why, you make egg salad, of course, but not just ANY egg salad.  Try this new twist.  Replace the hard-boiled yolks with chopped avocado for a reduction of fat and cholesterol.  Then don't forget to add lots of crunchy texture with celery, green onions, red or green bell peppers, olives, pickles, mushrooms, asparagus, green beans, or anything else you happen to have on hand.  Season with salt, white or black pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, curry powder, paprika (sweet or smoky), coriander, dill, or your personal favorites.  And if you're counting calories or carbs, enjoy that egg salad in a lettuce wrap with cucumber and tomato slices rather than between two pieces of bread.  There now -- don't you wish you'd dyed MORE EGGS? 

If you have other egg recipes, please share them in a comment!

My Least Favorite Thing on the Face of the Earth

      PEEPS.  There, I've said it.  I know it's unAmerican and a great big old Easter bah humbug, but honestly, I believe they are the most disturbing food ever invented.  Ewwww, ewwww, ickyewwww, patooey.  I'm told you can entertain large groups by blowing them up in the microwave, which sounds to me like the only possible use for them (except maybe for festive-colored spackling).  And good luck cleaning up THAT pastel tsunami.  Might as well just get a new microwave.

      A close friend of mine, who ADORED the darn things, used to say that they didn't really start getting good until you opened the package and let them sit around and get hard for a few days.  Dear God. 

      So there, I've confessed.  And I know I must be in the minority because you can't swing a cat at the grocery store this time of year without knocking over a dozen shelves worth of them, so SOMEBODY is eating them.  If you're a loyal Peep popper, try to convince me why I should reconsider.  Or why I shouldn't think that YOU HAVE NO TASTE AT ALL!!  I'm waiting.  

Calories: Count on 'em!

     I was browsing in the bakery section of the grocery store recently (oh, all right, I was ogling the key lime pies, but everyone in the world doesn't have to know it) when I overheard two women at the counter ask for low-carb bagels.  When the clerk informed them that the bagels were sold out, the women shrieked.  I'm not kidding you, they actually shrieked.  The poor clerk dashed into the back to search for more bagels, and thankfully, she was able to produce several packages.  The two shoppers breathed audible sighs of relief and headed off happily with their treasures.  Well, I couldn't help myself.  I sauntered over and picked up one of the remaining packages of coveted goodies and checked out the nutrition label.  Guess what?  Those bagels had more calories and fat than the full-carb (yet slightly smaller) bagels I usually eat. 

     Is there a lesson here?  You bet there is.  Let's take a quick trip back to the '80s.  Do you recall the first time you saw a fat-free Entenmann's Cherry Cheese-Filled Coffee Cake?  Don't try to tell me you didn't snatch that bad boy up and run home and eat the whole thing because that's exactly what I did.  In fact, I plowed through three of them the first week and gained ten pounds that year.  I said to everyone I knew, "If you don't eat fat, you won't be fat."  And I'm pretty sure I said it once WHILE I WAS SHOPPING FOR LARGER JEANS.  Now, I'm no scientist, but I'm pretty sure that if they take the fat out, they're going to replace it with something to add flavor, probably salt or sugar, and there will very likely be little or no reduction in the number of calories.

     I don't care what diet works for you or how many grams of this or points of that you're allowed to have, losing weight is still a matter of calories.  If you burn more calories than you eat, you'll lose weight.  If you eat more calories than you burn, you'll gain.  And it doesn't matter whether those extra calories come in the form of carbs, protein, or fat -- the excess will be stored in your body.  It's that simple.  We all have friends who have lost oodles of weight on the Atkins Diet or another similarly restrictive program, and those friends may have sworn that the weight just fell off of them and they never felt better -- and I'm sure it was all true -- but they were also simply taking in fewer calories.

     I remember those fat-free Entenmann's coffee cakes fondly, but I like to think we're all a little wiser now.  Read your labels and check your calorie counts.  Before you moan about not being able to lose those pesky pounds, determine what you're really putting in your mouth.  Write it down, in fact.  Get yourself a calorie counts book and a calculator and figure it out.  Chances are you're eating more than you think.  Give it some thought -- before you spread fat-free cream cheese on that second low-carb bagel!

How Big Is TOO BIG?

          Here we are again, thigh-deep in a frenzy of shaping up after the holidays.  Are you finding it challenging?  If so, here’s a simple little tip that may come in handy the next time you’re eating out: NEVER EAT ANYTHING BIGGER THAN YOUR HEAD.  Honestly, have you noticed the portion sizes at some of our local restaurants?  Chances are, if you ordered from anything but the kiddies’ menu, you will have placed before you enough to keep you going for a week -- and going strongly.  Whose idea was this?  What are we to do? 

     Here’s an idea: Don’t eat all of it.  But wouldn’t that be wasteful?  Heavens no; you’ll actually be saving money because you can eat those leftovers for several more meals.  In fact, if you already know what to expect at a certain restaurant, simply ask your server to package up half your plate before it’s brought to you. Then -- and here’s the hard part -- stop eating when you start to feel full.  It’s not easy, I know, especially if you’re out with friends, chatting merrily away, and everyone else is ordering cheesecake.  Why, it can be downright painful to stop eating when others continue munching on.  But look at it this way: If you’ll learn to pay attention to your body and recognize when you’ve had enough, you can eat pretty much anything you want.  Just eat less of it.  (Naturally, individuals with cardiovascular disease or diabetes may need to be more stringent.)

       I’m all about portion control these days because I am dreadful at giving up entire food groups.  Don’t tell me I can’t have that mountain of macaroni and cheese -- I may harm you.  But if I can have just a couple of bites of that macaroni and cheese, I’ll savor every morsel, we’ll all get out of here safely, and I, for one, won’t be seeing evidence of it around my middle by the time we I home.

      So if you’re struggling to control your intake of calories or fats or carbohydrates, consider this new approach.   Now ALL foods are available to you.  You may have a small portion or just a couple of bites of anything you wish, and the first few bites are the best anyway, right?  And, oh yes, even if it’s just a King Kong salad -- NEVER EAT ANYTHING BIGGER THAN YOUR HEAD!

A Year of Walking

          What’s the one exercise that your body was designed for, that you were doing naturally by the time you were a year old, and that you can do even in your sleep?  Walking!  It may just be life’s most perfect physical activity.  You can do it anywhere, it doesn’t require fancy equipment, and you’ll probably be able to do it for many years to come, not to mention the fact that it burns calories, helps lower cholesterol, strengthens your heart muscle, and protects your bones from osteoporosis.  So if you’ve always had a reason for not getting to the gym (“It’s too far away,” “It’s too expensive,” or “I’m too busy to exercise,”), you’ve just run out of excuses, my friend.  Hop into your sneakers, and let’s get going.

     If you’ve been fairly idle, you may not be able to walk very far at first.  Not to worry.  Every day, try to walk ten more steps or 30 more seconds or whatever you can manage and you’ll have a mile under your belt in no time.  Make it your business to walk six days a week.  One day off a week is reasonable, but beyond that, commit to making movement a part of your daily life.   

     Now let’s make things interesting, shall we?  Get yourself a little notebook so you can chart your daily progress, and keep track of how many miles you walk each week.  Think how far you will have walked by the end of the year.  In fact, why not get out your handy-dandy atlas right now and pick a place you’d like to visit next Christmas.  How many miles away is it?  Assuming it doesn't involve crossing large bodies of water, there’s your exercise goal for the year. 

    If you’re a social type, invite a neighbor or friend to join you each morning or evening.  You can visit while you’re burning extra calories.  Just be sure to keep up your enthusiastic pace -- no strolling!  So if you’re in good health and not currently suffering from any injuries, get out there and walk on!

My New Favorite Word Is SPATCHCOCK

   Spatchcock, spatchcock, spatchcock.  It's fun to say, though it doesn't roll easily off the tongue, and it might impress some folks if you're looking for opportunities to do that.  By the way, if you haven't encountered the word before and you're beginning to think I had a little too much eggnog over the holidays, I assure you that I am of reasonably sound mind and body.  Spatchcocking is the process of removing the backbone from a chicken.  So there.  And a spatchcocked chicken is the same as a butterflied chicken, but where's the fun in THAT?  Butterfly, butterfly, butterfly.  Nope, no thrills there.

   Even though I can confidently provide you with that information, I haven't yet drummed up the nerve to ask my friendly neighborhood butcher to perform the task for me.  We know one another by name, and I've asked him to do other meat-related tasks in the past, but I just can't seem to bring myself to make that particular request.  My butcher is a disarmingly attractive young fellow who always has a smile on his face, and he and I frequently chat if he has a minute to spare.  But I'm nearly certain that if I were to ask him for the spatchcock treatment, I would get tongue-tied and end up saying something that would force me to change grocery stores so I would never have to face him again. It's just not worth it.  

    The good news for today is that I don't have to ask my butcher to do it because I have spatchcocked my own chicken!  All by myself in the privacy of my own home!  And, even better, no sutures were required during the operation!  I must insert here that my knife skills -- and I use that term VERY loosely -- are really more like a series of defensive maneuvers.  If I can manage to dice an entire onion without drawing blood from myself or anyone else in the immediate vicinity, I consider that a stellar day in the kitchen.  My husband sharpens our knives regularly, but he does it with fear and trepidation in his heart because he knows we will all be in mortal danger until they've gotten just a little bit duller.  

     But back to spatchcocking!  Now, I could tell you that it's an easy-peasy process, accomplished in only a matter of minutes.  Or I could tell you the truth and admit that the first time, I performed the surgery with the chicken UPSIDE DOWN.  Yes, it's true.  You would think that removing the backbone from a chicken would be a clear indication that the bird should be lying on its  breasts with its back up in preparation for the task, but you would be wrong.  I assure you that it is just as simple to place the creature on its back and innocently and enthusiastically remove what I'm fairly certain is the sternum from between its breasts, which is precisely what I did.  I then flipped birdie over and, as instructed, smashed it down until it was nice and flat.  Done and done!  Except that now my flattened bird  was  prominently displaying its back, and its  breasts were flapping out to either side.  Not to worry!  It still roasted up like a chicken, tasted like a chicken, and made the house smell like chicken heaven.

     I should digress briefly to mention that my dear Dad attempted on several occasions to teach me how to roast a chicken when I was fifteen.  It went in one ear and out the other, and at an alarming rate of speed.  At that age, if it wasn't about cute boys or sports, I could not generate a single iota of interest.  So years later -- okay, 20 years later, shut up -- when I really WANTED to roast a chicken, I removed it from its plastic jacket, swooned when all those alarming innards came tumbling out  (EWWWWWW!), and then proceeded to place it in the roasting pan; however, I honestly did not know which side was supposed to face up.  I could spend the next ten minutes describing how I finally narrowed down the options, but suffice to say that it involved my lying on the floor with my breasts up to determine which direction my drumsticks and wings were facing.  Not my most shining hour.  

      But let's get back to spatchcocking!  The second time I attempted it, I succeeded brilliantly -- won't be making that mistake again, no sir -- and even treated myself to a victory lap around the kitchen to the ROCKY theme blaring in my head.  It's the little things, folks.  And though that bad boy didn't taste any better than the mis-spatchcocked one, it generated enough culinary pride in my bosom to last the rest of the week.  

     A quick note:  Removing the backbone and smashing the birdie down will reduce your roasting time, so don't make the second mistake I did and burn the poor thing beyond recognition,  That's right, I spatchcocked the wrong part and then burnt the whole shebang to a crisp.  Learn from my mistakes, people, and don't let this happen to you.  (Insert here a big hug around the neck to my husband, who not only ate Mistake #1 but insisted that I return to the scene of the tragedy and try, try again. I have neither the room here nor the time to recount all the culinary calamities he has witnessed. And eaten. And smiled, God bless his heart.)

    So if you're bored with all those post-holiday salads and fish fillets, take a walk on the wild and feathered side and try spatchcocking.  Or if you're feeling particularly brave, ask your butcher to do it.  Cluck cluck, and good luck!