Turkish delight

I was at two parties on Saturday at which food was on offer, but the two could not have been more different. The first was the birthday party of a colleague, and he and his friend had been cooking all day in preparation, making a selection of delicious North-African/middle-eastern dishes with unpronounceable names. There was an artichoke dip (loads of cream and garlic, and completely yummy), a lamb and almond stew and what looked a bit like falafel but were more like middle-eastern Scotch eggs, with beans and nuts on the outside and minced beef inside.

After I had gorged on those delicacies in a way that my conscience will only now permit me after several stiff G&Ts, two home-made cakes were produced, both of which required to be sampled: a chocolate and honey cake, decorated with hand-made marzipan bees; and a pineapple upside down cake, shaped like a pineapple and with fern fronds picked from the garden for leaves.

I reluctantly left the great food and company to head to the reception for the civil partnership ceremony of two friends. I was glad I had already eaten. A table in a rather fusty function room above a bar was laden with plates of curling sandwiches and almost flourescent chicken legs, most of which looked like they'd barely been touched. Apart from the newly-married couple, who were in demand from all their guests, the only person I knew was the Argentinian cousin of a friend, and I spent an hour or so talking to him until another friend picked me up in a taxi and I happily left the party and its horrid buffet.

Since Saturday, I've been good, despite that lapse threatening to topple all my good intentions. If someone has gone to a lot of trouble to cook delicious food, it is only polite to eat it, whereas Mr Tesco and Messrs Marks and Spencer could hardly care less.

Filo me up

On Sunday night I came face to face with the most devilishly irresistible dessert ever invented. I was at a drinks event in a bar called Cru where they served really tasty finger food like mini crispy duck pancakes and Thai spring rolls, and barbecued prawns with sweet chili sauce, and pocket sized samosas. All fine, and I was ready to eat only in moderation because I had a slice of peanut butter on toast before going out. But then they brought out two platters of the most unbelievable desserts which I would defy anyone, even the most stony-hearted of puritanical dieters, to resist:

1. Brownie fondue: warm chocolate brownies, surrounded by sliced strawberries and blueberries, with a bowl of whipped cream and a bowl of melted chocolate to dip into; and the piece de resistance,
2. Toblerone parcels: Pieces of toblerone wrapped in filo pastry and baked until the top of the parcel is just browned and the chocolate inside just melted, leaving little bits of nutty nougat at the bottom.

What fresh hell is this? I thought to myself as I was forced, compelled, ordered to eat at least four of them.

Cake That

If there were not already a million compelling reasons why exercise is good for you, here's another. When you exercise regularly, you start feeling more circumspect about what you put in your mouth. This works without even thinking about it: you feel better, and look better, and after all that effort, why would you want to spoil it by stuffing your face, thereby undoing all the good work? Plus exercise makes you feel good, and less inclined to slip into whatever self-pitying bad habits were making you eat badly in the first place.

This isn't a foolproof method, of course, but it certainly applies to me - and what's more it works the other way too. I've been travelling on business for the last four days and I am finding it hard to fit in the time to exercise. I'm up early and get back to the hotel too late, and too hungry because it's too late, to go to the gym. Accordingly, I haven't done any exercise all week. A time to rein back on the bad stuff, you'd have thought. But no! I have been more drawn to reckless eating than at any time over the last few months when I have been exercising almost every day.
Why, I've just eaten half a piece of apple cinnamon cheesecake for no better reason than because it was there. The phrase "what the hell?" should definitely be banned from my interior monologue at times when I am standing in the coffee shop about to order an innocent cup of tea.

Don't tell anyone...

...but I bought a diet book on Saturday! (If the amount of money I've spent on diet books reaches £10,000, will I win a prize?)

It looks eminently sensible. No food groups are cut out, the recipes are mouthwatering. And there's none of this "eat as much as you like" tripe. Portion control seems to be the new black in dieting.*

As I read it, I realised how I really knew all this stuff already. The balance of food throughout the day is pretty much what my Granny would have fed me. So I wonder, is this one part of what's gone wrong? Have we got so much choice now that we've forgotten what is good for us and, more importantly, how much of it to eat? For me, food is no longer fuel; it's what I treat myself to. My significant other doesn't understand that; I cannot offer to treat him by cooking him something and, guess what? He's built like a racing split-pin.

* An interesting thing happened today when I was describing the portion control thing to a friend. She said, "How is this news?" How to explain that the first time I read about it, I was almost shocked? But then, she's not spent the past 20 years devouring all the latest "eat all you like and lose all your weight in 30 seconds flat" books. And guess what?...

Chicken lickin'

Years ago, I had a long relationship with a guy whose parents live in the village I grew up in, and while I was at university we fell into a comfortable, predictable routine of going to his folks for dinner most Friday and Saturday nights. Although I didn't really think about it at the time, there was something homely about their house and about the lovely food we ate there that, as a student, made me feel part of a family again. After dinner, if F and I weren't going out, we would often lounge about watching TV and reading the paper, and F's mum would produce bags of sweets.

One memorable meal she used to cook was chicken, boiled potatoes and salad. To this day, that's one of my favourite meals. Not just any salad, mind. It has to combine lettuce or other green leaves, avocado, tomato, red pepper and red onion. There's something about the combination of hot chicken and potatoes and cold salad that is indescribably lovely. It helps if the potatoes are new, and you have some nice salad dressing.

Sadly, that relationship came to an end, but tonight, 10 years later, I cooked the same meal for my ex and my kids, and we polished off the lot. Now all I need to do is calculate the calories. Oh, how the mighty are fallen.

What a tart

I was just sitting innocently at my desk, on the phone to a client, when a member of my team crept into my office with a box of still-warm egg tarts and offered me one.

It's a classic dilemma, not unlike the office cake conundrum described below by Fatfighter2. I say dilemma, but in reality it took me a nano-second to decide to have one.

Egg tarts... mmm. Crispy, flaky, delicate pastry encasing a warm sweet egg custard. Even though these tarts were just from a local bakery and somewhat inferior to the original Portuguese version from which they are cribbed, they are still wonderful, especially at 5.30pm on a Friday.

I first had them at the Lisboa Patisserie in London, but the best I've ever tasted were from Lord Stow's Bakery in Coloane, Macau. It's an unassuming little shop off the village square with trays and trays of warm tarts. We bought six, planning to take some away, but they were so delicious we ate the lot, sitting on a bench in the afternoon heat right outside the bakery.

I guess I have to add egg tarts to my list of things I shouldn't be eating. Sigh. As Gwyneth Paltrow's mother apparently advised her when she asked how to lose weight: "Don't eat anything that tastes nice".

Mind over matter

Just read an interesting article on the BBC news website about a new study into how different individuals control their appetite - which mentions the drug addict parallel again.

Nuts in May

I've stocked up on a veritable feast (albeit a somewhat bleak one, on account of how healthy it all is), of items to snack on while I'm at my desk when hunger, AKA boredom, strikes. To wit:

• one packet Nairn's Oatcakes (rough), with the apostrophe in the right place for once
• one pack Seeberger "Luxury" Nut and Raisin Mix (of German, and hitherto unfamiliar, provenance, but nonetheless vastly overpriced in the supermarket nearest to work)
• one pack Eden's Hazelnuts (Large)
• one pack Eden's Pecan Nuts (Top Quality)

All set now, to eat all the bits I like the look of and leave the rest until I'm really desperate and the call of the scone is so strong I have to eat something.

In the meantime, I've been holding out against an industrial size bar of Dairy Milk someone has left on the counter at reception. It is one kilo in weight.

Shift and spin

I had a moment of despair earlier in the week. There is an event coming up that will involve food and drink nae doot. When I said I would rather not go and eat, it was put to me that I could go and not eat. How to express that it doesn't work that way? No one would say that to an alcoholic, would they?

After saying goodbye to my old friends, I have been behaving well. There were crisps today, but I've been smoothieing (blech) and oatcaking in the morning and souping and salading at lunch, with a quick circumnavigation of the building afterwards. Last week, my average was 9660 steps a day, give or take.

I gave up cigs, then started again (which will kill me first I wonder?)

Now all I have to do is cut out the mountain of basmati rice I seem to be eating every day...

I read something today that caused a slight shift in my perception of my weight problem and doing something about it.

I found Fat Man Walking. Mr Vaught has walked across America in an attempt to lose weight. He has lost 102lbs (coincidentally, about what I'd need to lose). On this page he says:

"I have an addiction and there needs to be dedication and sacrifice to cure addictions. If I had a drug or alcohol addiction I would go to rehab. Well, what I have in mind is rehab for the fat guy.

I am going to take six months out of my life and walk across the United States from San Diego to NYC." (my italics)

OK, it's extreme and I couldn't afford the time or the money. But it was what he said about rehab that smote me between the eyes! I've heard many times the words "complete change in lifestyle" but never quite so clearly. I shall have to think about this some more.

Superstition ain't the way

I've got this silly superstition that if a diet is going well, the moment I tell anyone about how well it's going it begins to go awry (Incidentally, did anyone else used to think that was pronounced "aw-ree"? Just me then). So, throwing caution to the wind, I'm here to tell you that this diet is going exceedingly well. Basically, I write down everything I eat and its calorie content in a book I carry everywhere with me. A typical day might look like this:

M&S lo-cal cereal w/skimmed milk and seeds 400
Banana, apple and orange 220
Scottish Slimmers lo-cal sandwich (cheese & onion) 295
Lo-cal crisps and lo-fat yogurt 210
M&S lo-cal meal and broccoli 390
Two M&S lo-fat chocolate mousses 160
Drinks of various descriptions max 200

Total 1875

Well below the 2000 calorie limit. M&S features strongly here...perhaps I should do a blog entry dedicated entirely to the joys of M&S. I haven't weighed myself since starting this diet on 1 May. That would be tempting providence.

Supersize me

For anyone who has trouble buying clothes because of their boob size, Bravissimo is a brilliant website. The sizes come in Curvy, Really Curvy and Super Curvy - wonderfully uplifting terminology (no pun intended). A girl I paddle with was wearing one of the strappy tops last night and she looked fantastic.

Calorie, ciznall on me

Fatfighter2's last post according to Gizoogle:

Tra la la. I detest that sizzong. So, Monday 1 May was tha day I gots bizzle on tha diet'n wagon if you gots a paper stack. My new strategy is ta have a limit of 2000 calories a day, W-H-to-tha-izzich is tha average recommended daily amount fo` bitchez. Tizzle sounds ratha generous, hatin' I'm supposed ta be los'n weight, not maintain'n it, but it's contingent on mah doing `bout an hour of exercise a day . Aint no killin' everybodys chillin'. So far so good upside yo head. A combinizzle of M&S lo-cal meals n forgo'n alcohol n yummy office treats has gots me through tha pizzle two days witout a hizzitch. Today, pusha it being a lovely day I went fo` tha takeout sandwich option , betta check yo self. Fiznirst fatal mistake: clockin' by tha Scottish Slimma cheese n onion sandwich wit its calorie content clearly printed on tha front in favour of a much more satisfy'n freshly-filled baguette. Second fatal mistake like this and like that and like this and uh: going fo` tha hizzigh thick chicken n coleslaw combo ratha tizzy tha chicken n salad one. Oh dear n shit. When I tried ta calculate tha calories playa using mah handy shawty book I jizzle `bout gizzy up n mizzy a - probably conservative - estimate of 800 calories. Almost half mah daily allowance blizzay in one go . I thought i told ya, nigga I'm a soldier. All coz I was afraid of S-T-to-tha-izzill perpetratin' hungry gangsta lunch. Time ta train me out of thiznat way of think'n.

Calorie, call on me

Tra la la. I detest that song.

So, Monday 1 May was the day I got back on the dieting wagon. My new strategy is to have a limit of 2000 calories a day, which is the average recommended daily amount for women. That sounds rather generous, considering I'm supposed to be losing weight, not maintaining it, but it's contingent on my doing about an hour of exercise a day. So far so good.

A combination of M&S lo-cal meals and forgoing alcohol and yummy office treats has got me through the past two days without a hitch. Today, however, it being a lovely day I went for the takeout sandwich option. First fatal mistake: passing by the Scottish Slimmers cheese and onion sandwich with its calorie content clearly printed on the front in favour of a much more satisfying freshly-filled baguette. Second fatal mistake: going for the high fat chicken n coleslaw combo rather than the chicken n salad one. Oh dear. When I tried to calculate the calories later using my handy little book I just about gave up and made a - probably conservative - estimate of 800 calories. Almost half my daily allowance blown in one go. All because I was afraid of still feeling hungry after lunch. Time to train myself out of that way of thinking.