Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Conquering the Souffle: Part 1

After all, it's just a bunch of eggs--isn't it?
I have to admit, when anyone says the word "souffle" I quake a little bit inside. From what I've heard it can be a pretty tough nut to crack--the kind of food that likes to silently laugh at the cook as it refuses to rise.

I am proud to say that, though Audrey Hepburn's souffle did not rise in Sabrina, and many a cook has been brought to tears by sheer irritation, I am going to go for it. This weekend, I am going to tackle the puffy monster.

Let you know how it turns out.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

My Recent Love Affair

How three inches of carbs had me weak in the knees.
It stood looming before me--all I could think about in that moment. The fun voices around me lulled to a gentle Charlie Brown-mom sort of tone, and the fantasies of taking JUST one crisp bite dominated my thoughts. I was like Eve in the garden, lips poised to sink my teeth into the forbidden fruit.It couldn't hurt, I thought, who has to know?

I was obsessed with the bowl of tortilla chips sitting in front of me.

As my friends cheerfully dipped the crunchy lovelies into the red salsa, I felt like a woman scorned, the best friend instead of the leading lady. While I sipped water, ate cherries and pretended not to be affected, I was. Instead of acting out my fantasy and stuffing as many as I could in my mouth, I sat there brooding and left only to my sole desire: to eat a chip.

Back to my granola.

Girl On Grill

It's official: I have entered the male sanctum.
On Memorial Day, I entered a new frontier, A "Last Crusade," if you will--grilling. My whole life I saw men on the grill: my 6-foot-tall grandfather, turning ribs over graying charcoal, my father turning hot dogs and yelling at us for getting too close, and finally, my stepfather listening to his iPod, humming but probably saying to himself, "No women allowed." Well, this chic got sick of it.

I begged my stepfather to teach me how to grill. I had fantasies about turning the meat with my hair blowing in the wind and emerging with perfectly cooked chicken.

I was wrong. Not to be a traitor to my gender or anything, but the first thing I thought as I was scrubbing down a rack full of hardened drippings was, "No wonder women don't do this." I dropped a piece of asparagus down on the flames, and my hot links (which I don't eat) looked like they were going to explode--though people say they are supposed to look like that. I did end up with the perfectly grilled chicken and asparagus to die for, but it was anything but romantic. However, I think my stepdad did get a kick at watching a woman enter his domain.

While I felt the victory, I truly wanted a Cosmo.

Friday, May 23, 2008

The 21-day Vegan

Could you go vegan for 21 days?
No red meat--done. No pork--done. I like to consider myself a pretty hardcore person when it comes to my food choices, but vegan?! I once had chicken wasn't meat from a vegan restaurant. Needless to say, I never tried "meat" from that restaurant again.

Oprah, I salute your desire to live a cheeseless, meatless and eggless existence for 21 days. I have lived by your creed "live your best life" and read your magazine like a junkie for the last 10 years. Sad to say, this is one way I won't be following in your footsteps.

I Am A Plus Size

I am saying goodbye to my fantasies of eating fries, bread and simple carbohydrates.
Okay, let's face it: I have a butt. When I eat bread it goes up, when I work out it goes down and it's even broken a fax machine once. I am curvy size 6 and proud to be so. So I found it interesting that the world rejoiced that a "plus-sized" er "full-figured" gal won America's Next Top Model, because no news outlet has said that she is above a 10. Some have even said she is a six. It is obvious that these nice words for fat have received some downsizing.

It's true that JLo and Beyonce have brought booty into the limelight (and Marilyn and Lucy made curvy hot) but there is not enough celebration of real body types in the limelight for our girls. If a twig with breasts is the standard for beauty, then our girls will never learn to appreciate their bodies, curves and all. As Stanley Tucci said in "The Devil Wears Prada," "Six is the new 14." My love-hate relationship with bread has officially turned deadly.

Ah, well. I guess this size 6 will be joining Weight Watchers. Or designing a t-shirt that says, "I Am Plus Size" just for kicks.