Day 3: Braised Zucchini and Leeks

The summer of my senior year of college, I read Mireille Guiliano's French Women Don't Get Fat. I had just had to have my choir dress let out a little, and felt like emergency action was required.

What I remember from the book is the philosophy of thoughtfully eating what you like.  Guiliano doesn't frown on dessert, but she encourages eating one piece of quality bittersweet chocolate over eating a frosted Krispy Kreme doughnut or half a bag of M&Ms.  She writes about facing a craving for an apple pastry head on by eating slow roasted apples cooked in cabbage leaves.

(Who are we kidding?  Cabbage leaves instead of layer upon layer of crisp buttery pastry??  As I type this, I'm struck that she would likely support a cake that substitutes zucchini for Coca-Cola.)

But the concepts are good.  If you love the apple flavor, don't substitute a cheap, unsatisfying fiber bar - eat real apples.  Just limit yourself on the fats and sugars the majority of the time.

Guiliano also shares the diet plan that her family's doctor advised for her after she put on weight in the United States.  For the first 48 hours, she ate only what she deemed "Magical Leek Soup."  In glowing terms she describes how this was the catalyst of her life-long love for sweet, buttery leeks.  She drank the delicious and nourishing leek broth several times a day, and whenever she got hungry she would eat a boiled leek with a little olive oil and cracked pepper.  Not only were these leeks delectable, they filled her up; and she still lost some significant pounds (or kilos).

I was sold.

Christmas Ham for Every Occasion

Warning - this post does not contain a recipe.  If you legitimately want a Christmas ham recipe, I suggest you look elsewhere.  This is a about me, Christmas ham and a story that never gets old.

Two years ago, Matthew and I started contributing a ham to the extended-family dinner. Christmas is always extremely busy for Matthew and me between the increased work load at our respective jobs and travelling.  Buying a ham and delivering it to my mother-in-law is practical way for us to contribute to the family celebration.

Honey Baked Ham starts mailing out their coupons right after Halloween.  On glossy pages, impressive hams display ruffled spirals edged in a crystalized sugar glaze.  My mother-in-law gave me two coupons - one for $5 off and one for 10% off.  I took them both with me, just in case Honey Baked Ham would let me use them collectively. 

Now obviously, you can't just walk up to Honey Baked Ham the day before Christmas and walk out with a ham.  You have to call ahead and reserve your ham.  Then you have to go wait in line with twenty people in Christmas sweaters. 

Florida: A Tradition in Mayonnaise

It takes my breath away how a place almost 900 miles from where I grew up can hold such vivid, beautiful and heartbreaking memories.  Maybe it is the regularity of it.  As certainly as spring arrives, we make the trek to northern Florida.  Over sixteen years, our family has grown, we have spread out further and further across the country, and our schedules have diversified; but still, we meet at the Gulf with tenacity.

  

Years ago, I would spend the night before our trip making sandwiches.  The way I remember it is endless rows of rolls that needed to sawed in half, the crumbs going everywhere.  Armed with a large jar of Hellmans and a butter knife, I would slap mayonnaise on the top half of each roll.  Faced with such a mundane task, my imagination ran wild.  As I put mayonnaise on roll after roll after roll, I was struck that, "the mayonnaise quivered expectantly." 

So thrilled was I with this description of making sandwiches, that I put down my knife, ran to my room and wrote it down.  As though there was a chance someone might steal it.  I don't know what I thought the mayonnaise was expecting.  Perhaps the anticipation of sharing its existence with shaved turkey was almost more than it could take?

Leah's Coffee Confessions

My sisters, in addition to being beautiful, are the smartest and funniest women I know.  Lucky for me, they send me guest posts from time to time.  Here are some thoughts from Leah.  She is a junior speech pathology major at St. Mary's College. 

I thought I was the Queen of Starbucks.

In particular I thought I was the prime ruler of the one on 933. Everyone knows exactly what I want when I come in. They even know my caffeine cutoff time. I do not take money to Starbucks, I scan my cell phone. I have a phone app that tells me exactly where in the United States every single Starbucks is. As if I need an app, ha! My sixth sense, or Starbucks sense if you will, sends electrical impulses to every neuron in my body if I am within a 5 mile radius of Starbucks. I even know where the grocery store Starbucks’ are. I’ve been a gold member since 2009, when the rewards system began. I’ve cherished that very first reward card ever since I first purchased it. I could do a blind taste test and name each of the different roasts. I could smell the aroma of the roasts and declare which was which. For me it is not an obsession. It is a religion. None would disagree: If Starbucks were Egypt, I would be Cleopatra. If Starbucks were the Roman Empire, I would be Julius Caesar… I will boycott McDonalds, I will boycott Wal-mart, I will boycott Tyson, but Starbucks is my little corporate monster darling..