And I Would Walk 500 Miles...

...or at least, you know, jog for about three.

It was The Big Day.  As Pittsburgh welcomed the huge, slightly ridiculous but really adorable floating Rubber Duckie during its Festival of Firsts, people like me - first-time runners - were wondering what this 5K thing was all about...and, maybe, if it was worth it.

Oh, it was.

When I had signed up for the race several months ago, I didn't really know if I could do it.  Like many people (artsy ones in particular), I really struggle finishing projects that I start.  and this was a really big project for me.  I've mentioned in the past that I was diagnosed with asthma when I was a child and dealt with a myriad of respiratory problems during my youth.  Although I haven't had many issues as of late, I didn't know what starting a real exercise program would do to me.  

Turns out, it's actually been great for me.  Since I had started out very gradually, strolling for a half-hour on my lunch break, then slowly increasing it to a 50-minute power walk, I've built up my endurance.  I still need my albuterol sometimes, mostly during seasonal changes or extreme weather (ultra-high humidity and really brisk mornings are hard - and this past week has been particularly difficult), but most days I'm fine without it.  My bigger concern was that I had gotten drastically off-track regarding my Couch to 5K program.  That, coupled with an upper respiratory infection that had been clinging for the pat week, led me to the decision that I would complete the race, but as a walker, not a runner.  And I was okay with that.

Then something crazy and wonderful and magical happened.  As I was in Oakland, in my beloved city on an absolutely picture-perfect day, surrounded by a sea of people in brightly-colored Nikes and battered track pants, I realized that I had no reason to be nervous.  I guess I'd imagined that all 15,500 runners and walkers would be sleek and trim, with calves to kill for and perfectly toned arms.  I thought there was such thing as a "runner's body", but guess what?  There isn't! 

There were heavy-set women in their thirties; skinny, bearded old men who wobbled a bit as they ran; tall, athletic college students who hardly seemed to sweat; scrawny pre-teen girls; lithe, flexible twenty-somethings whose running shorts were a little too short; and young mommies and daddies jogging alongside their children.  And they were all there for one reason: to finish the race.

My former roomie Megan sent me a message encouraging me to do my best, whether it was by walking or running, but, she said, there is something very special about being in a crowd like that - you never know what you are capable of.

She was right.

I started the race with my husband at my side and we were walking briskly.  Almost immediately, I slid into an easy gait and the first mile was down - no sweat. I couldn't believe it.  I hadn't gone for a jog in probably almost three weeks, but there I had it.  Mile one in about fifteen minutes.  And I felt great!

Mile two started with a bit of a hill, and many of the runners and walkers around me slowed a bit.  I did the same, as did Ross, and I lost sight of him.  As I began to struggle a bit for breath, for the first time, I focused on the sounds around me.  The constant slapping of shoes against pavement.  The ragged breathing of the beefy guy behind me.  The nearby "good job, keep going" of the volunteers offering water just up ahead.  The members of Duquesne University's marching band rocking "Eye of the Tiger" to my right.  (No joke - you ever hear that played on a tuba?  So much awesome.)  The day was gorgeous and it was a strange experience to be running the path I had driven so many times when I worked at the Starbucks in Oakland.  I wanted to just gaze up at the bright blue sky, enjoy the crisp air and the sunshine, but I forged ahead.

Mile three, I swear, was going to be the death of me.  The fact that I had not stuck with the Highmark program was now painfully clear as I tried to measure my breathing, ignore the slight cramping in my side, and the sweat that was cascading down my neck and back.  On the sidewalk, here and there, were officials, family members, and volunteers.  I saw two older women who didn't appear to be there to support anyone in particular, so they were cheering for every single person who jogged by.  I thought that was great!  I played songs in my head to keep my feet moving.  I finally settled on "Overcomer", a recent Christian hit that has encouraged me in plenty of ways.  And my feet kept going.  My arms kept pumping.  My breath kept coming.  My heart kept beating.

As I rounded the corner, hitting the three mile-marker and seeing the finish line on my left, I felt tears well up in my eyes.  I had little breath to spare, but I said, out loud, "Mom, I'm doing it!  Mom!  I did it!" and felt that I had defeated my own fears.  I know she would have told me I was crazy (maybe I am).  And asked if I'd taken my inhaler (I did).  Then offered to make my favorite dinner as a victory meal (her oven-breaded chicken, wilted spinach salad [with bacon!], and great big gobs of gooey mac and cheese [with bacon!]).

As soon as I crossed the finish line, raising one weak arm in the air, I felt a wave of nausea overwhelm me and thought, "I am going to vomit here in the park.  With thousands of people watching me.  Oh, my God, I am about to be THAT person."  Thankfully, though, the feeling passed almost immediately and I began to search through the throng of exhausted runners for my husband.  He finally found me, and I noticed that he was holding a banana and an Eat 'n' Park Smiley cookie - and neither one was for me!

"Priorities," he said with a grin.

As our bodies recovered from the happy torture we had just endured, we made our way down to see that yellow duck in the river.  Was it art?  Well...no, probably not.  But man, it was cute.  And it seemed to make the real ducks jealous.  The mallards floating by must have wondered why they, residents of the city rivers for years, had never been given any type of party at all.  We took some cute selfies and wondered how many peoples' pictures we ended up in.  Then we headed to the new coffee shop in Carnegie to celebrate our victory (i.e., survival).

Ultimately, I learned that I completed the race in 39:22, giving me about a twelve and a half minute mile.  I was fairly impressed with myself and thought - how much better could that number have been had I stuck with the program?!  Still - pretty great for an overweight asthmatic!

I haven't run since the Great Race.  Sadly, I pulled my hamstring and it is taking some time to heal.  Not to mention, the recent change in weather has been hard on my asthma and I've been having flare-ups recently.  Still, I'm bundling up at work and walking on my lunch break.  I've maintained my weight.  My PCP was proud of me at my recent wellness check when she learned of my weight loss and regular exercise schedule.  I'm planning on running the Race for the Cure in May to honor several friends, so I'd better get cracking, here.  Soon!

Thank you to all of you who cheered me on  - whether you really thought it could do it or not!  If you want to read my story from start to finish, you can click here, here and here.  I had the honor of sharing my journey via my employer's blog, too - I hope that it was a message of encouragement to everyone who got to read it!

(Currently, the internet isn't letting me post pictures on this blog so you can click on the links above if you want to see some.  I'll update as soon as I can figure out the issue!  -RG 11:00 AM 10/26/13)

Fighting Fire with Fire. Kind Of.

No, this isn't a deep, spiritual post.  It's not about the fires of Hell or Holy Spirit fire.

It's actually about oily skin and how I happened upon a freakish but wholly natural solution.

Yup. 

Image courtesy of healthbeautyspot.com

Now, I am NOT a crunchy lady.  If you don't know what the vaguely derisive term "crunchy" means, well...basically, it means that you're deeply into organic, holistic, and otherwise "clean" living.  For me, the word conjures up images of young mothers with unwashed hair and babies strapped to their organic cotton maxi-dress-clad bodies, while they guzzle sour-sweet kombucha tea and contemplate the evils of canned chef Boy-Ar-Dee with their other crunchy friends.

Granted, this is a pretty narrow-minded view, and I'm aware of that (I'm sure that similarly narrow-minded images appear in others' minds when I say "I am a Christian").  I have friends who are "crunchy" and "semi-crunchy", and I actually have a blog in the works about what I am learning from certain aspects of "going green", but that's for another time.  This blog is about how my complexion has literally been transformed by an organic "recipe", and how I am deeply grateful for it.  

I came across the blog of self-styled "Crunchy Betty" when my husband and I were looking for a solution to our clogged drain.  We found one (baking soda and white vinegar), but instead of closing the browser window, I started to poke around a little more.  Betty had lots of interesting views about organic living, some clever recipes for making your own earth-friendly cosmetics, that sort of thing.  She also suggested using homemade kitty litter, but I think I'll leave that to her.  Say it with me: "Ain't nobody got time fo' dat."

What really intrigued me was the segment on the site about the oil-cleansing method.  At first, I assumed it was some sort of insane fad diet that involved consuming pure, organic, coconut oil with every meal in order to blow any toxins out of your body, but it turns out, it's actually a skincare method. 

And it works.  Oh, boy, does it work.

You can click on the above link and read the details yourself, but I'll offer my shocked and awed testimony here.  Having had acne since I was, oh, about eleven, I've tried almost everything you can think of to clear up my skin.  Big-name commercial products, store brands, exclusive mail-order brands and yes, prescription medication from a dermatologist.  Nothing really worked.  I mean, not on a grand scale.  Everything worked for a little while, maybe clearing up a few individual blemishes, but nothing kept my skin clear - especially when my hormones raged during my cycle changes and my skin broke out with a vengeance.  Plus, the prescription medication was dangerous for pregnant women, and, to my knowledge, using it before I knew I was expecting may have even contributed to my first miscarriage.  I will never know, but you can bet I will never use it again.

31 and still dotting Clearasil in my pimples, I figured that trying this new method couldn't really make things worse.  The science behind using oil to clean your face is similar to the idea of "like driving out like" or "fighting fire with fire".  I don't really understand how it works, but it's opening the door for me to be at least a little more open to the idea of "naturally" curing some of the ills we humans face daily.  I'm not throwing my ibuprofen out the door, but I'm definitely interested in reading more about how hibiscus tea might help my high blood pressure, or how dark chocolate is full of wrinkle-fighting antioxidants (yes, please - more articles like that).

Apparently, different types of oil should be used, depending on the type of skin you have.  As a person with oily/acne-prone skin, it's suggested that I use a combination of a carrier oil (castor oil) and jojoba and grapeseed oils.  Organic, of course, and a little expensive (actually, the castor oil I used was NOT organic and I still enjoy great results).  I also use the suggested astringent of witch hazel mixed with dried thyme.  I initially balked at both the idea of cleaning my oily skin with oil, and also paying $7 or more for a small bottle of oil.  

Image courtesy of
healthdesigns.com

Once I got started though, I realized that it was worthwhile for two reasons.  First, it worked.  I've been washing my face this way since about mid-February and, other than the few times when I returned to using a commercial cleanser (out of laziness), I have discovered that my skin is smoother and I have very few new blemishes - one or two a month, I'd say, maximum.  Plus, they never get as big or painful as they did before, and they disappear much faster.  Second, the oil and witch hazel bottles have lasted me until now.  The initial investment seemed steep - about $25 for all the oils, and maybe $9 for the thyme and witch hazel.  But they've lasted 6 months now, and the astringent still has at least 2 more months remaining.  That actually averages out to considerably less than I was previously paying to try one or two new products every month.

So - I save money and I have clearer, happier skin.  The extra bonus - which, for others, might be the primary reason for this technique - is that it's earth-friendly.  I admit, it's kind of nice to know that the stuff that it helping me regain confidence and healthy skin is not full of chemicals and fake fragrances and stuff.  That's pretty cool.

Anyway, no - I'm not turning "crunchy".  Not really.  But I didn't think it fair to keep this to myself because it's been so successful.  I should also note that I am receiving absolutely no endorsement of any kind for this blog.  I'm not into that stuff.  I promote what I believe in, whether it's my faith or the talents of my friends, or a recipe, website, or idea I admire.  Rest assured that my posts always come from my own experience and I am not into being paid for promoting someone else's agenda.  Maybe this is why I'm not a professional writer yet?  That's a post for later, too.  At any rate, if you've been struggling with troubled skin, it's something to consider.  Cool thing is, it's not a "girly" product in a neon pink tube or anything like that, and I would guess it would work equally well for men.  

Plus, the grapeseed oil smells like nature at its warm, toasty, nutty manliest.   Ooh.

A Pound of Flesh...or Ten

There is a thin line between respectfully discussing spiritual things for the edification of others...and looking like a self-absorbed, self-righteous Bible-thumping idiot.  So I will tread carefully here.

Recently, my church, like thousands of others across the nation, engaged in a 21-day fast.  The purpose behind the fast is not to lose weight or cause ourselves to suffer in any way, but to draw closer to the Lord by focusing more on the spirit than on the flesh.  Some people felt called to go on a "Daniel fast", which generally allows fruits, vegetables, water, and limited carbohydrates.  Some people felt that they were to give up one or two things - some vices, maybe, like sweets or snack foods. Last year, I gave up cheese and, whining, I limped my way through three horrible, miserable, Swiss-less weeks.

Okay, so it wasn't quite that bad.  But I had really missed the point of the fast, which was to put my body's desires on hold while I pressed in and worked on my spirit's needs.  This year, I was still more lacking in the spiritual arena than I would have liked, yet I know God was with me.  I gave up dairy products, red meat and pork, sweets, pop, and coffee.  There were a few brief times when I felt I could "pause" the fast, but God gave me the strength to say "no" to my body.  I was less consistent when it came to my 21-day Bible plan.  Still, through this experience, I have developed a much healthier relationship with food.  I truly believe that is the biggest take-away that I got from these 21 days. 

Is that not spiritual enough for you?

Well, for someone who didn't even realize that, all her life, food has been a kind of idol, it's pretty spiritual.  I can trace my weight problems back to when I was about eight years old and on steroids for my asthma.  They caused dramatically increased appetite...I'm talking two Big Macs a large Coke and fries.  For a second-grader.  I porked out pretty badly, and although a little of that was redistributed when I entered puberty, I could never be accused of being "the skinny one".

Not surprisingly, I reached my peak weight in college.  Withough getting too detailed (after all, I do have a modicum of modesty to maintain), I was, according to the doctor's BMI chart, almost 80 pounds overweight.  Granted, that BMI chart doesn't take into consideration one's genetic code.  My Slovak heritage would never allow for anything less than sturdy shoulders, a full bosom and meaty thighs, no matter what any diagram says.  Still...

I didn't have a double chin.

I had three chins.

Things were bad.

Although I never came up with any particular routine after college, the combination of my two jobs - working at Starbucks and Curves - allowed me to lose a total of 25 pounds.  I looked good, and I felt good.

Then I got married.  And then I got pregnant.  At the time of my miscarriage last year, I was nearly back at that dreaded "college weight".  And I was scared.  I felt ugly.  I felt worthless.  And I absolutely hated that those feelings were coming from how I viewed my body.  What made me angry was that I had converted my husband from a pizza-a-day junkie to a salad-appreciating, fish-eating, whole-wheat loving coupon-clipper...and I had steadily gotten heavier.

I also hated the fact that I was in a position, in church and at work, to encourage young women to appreciate their bodies and consider them precious to God...but I kept speaking out in anger against my own.

During the fast, I came to the realization that I had never actually said "no" to food.  It was not quite an addiction, per se, but it was always there when I was bored, or sad, or angry, or - sometimes - actually hungry.  Although I had become a good cook and I chose healthy ingredients, I was eating out of boredom, not delight.  I was eating because it was comfortable.

(Which is also why I dated the wrong guys.  I didn't want to do without, so I overdid it.  But those guys were like soggy, over-priced ball game French fries smothered in artificial, neon orange cheese-flavored sauce and MSG-loaded chili.  Ross is like a oven-roasted baked potato with a sprinkle of sea salt, a dollop of nonfat Greek yogurt, freshly chopped chives and just a touch of sharp, natural cheddar cheese.) 

I don't know why I just got into that, but it made sense for a second there, before my analogy clobbered me over the head and took over.  Let's try again.  What I'm saying is that food had become my friend.  I was replacing healthy relationships in my life with Lunchables.  Instead of meeting a gal-pal for coffee, I would sulk at home and eat. 

In the past three weeks, there were times when I whined, or times when I came very close to throwing in the towel altogether (poor Ross; he watched me stare mournfully at the fridge morning after morning, desperately craving milk for my cereal).  But dropping five pounds and watching my blood pressure decrease slightly has given me encouragement.  Although I am adding meat, dairy and other treats back into my diet, I am being very cautious.  I'm far more aware of serving sizes, and how just a little of something often satisties more than great big gobs of it.  I'm still choosing fish and poultry over beef and pork.  I'm stopping when I am almost full - that has been a huge win for me.  I'm snacking less.  I'm making sure I have fruit every day at lunch.  I'm eating more vegetarian meals.  I'm eating purposefully.  I can feel less guilt when I indulge in a big ole burger or a pile of fries, because I know that 80% of the time, I'm making wise, careful choices when I eat.  That has made all the difference.

I feel like God answered my unspoken prayers during this fast.  When I was young, I used to pray that somehow, he would magically make me thin.  I believe he did better than that - he is making me a great cook who loves food enough to respect it, and who is no longer ruled by it.  I still have a good deal of weight to lose for me to feel truly healthy.  But yesterday, I was able to slip on a pair of jeans I haven't worn since before I was married.

That's a good sign.

Five Underrated: Foods

I will start the series with something dear to my heart: food!  I taught myself how to cook when I was in college, and I basically made the standards: chicken, burgers, pasta and cupcakes (for breakfast?  Don’t judge!)!  After I graduated, working on Oakland near ethnic restaurants and shops encouraged in me a sense of adventure.  As I was living on my own and buying all my own groceries, I was more willing to expand my tastes.  Slowly, I evolved from a pizza-snacking, fry-popping twenty-something to a bean-sprout tasting, homemade dip-making, avocado-nibbling experimentalist.  The list that follows includes some of the most underappreciated foods I have encountered in the past five years…and how I have come to respect them!

1. Plain, Nonfat Yogurt

Having begun to watch both my salt and fat intake lately (and, to his dismay, my husband’s as well), I was blown away by how much of the “bad stuff” is in even reduced-fat and light products, like ranch dressing, cheese, and flavored yogurt cups.  Fortunately, plain, nonfat yogurts is an incredibly healthy ingredient – and it’s also a master of disguise!  I use it as a base for homemade dressing.  Portion out about a half-cup of yogurt, add a sprinkle of garlic powder, onion powder, parsley, dill and a splash of skim milk.  Stir well, and you have a tasty, light alternative to ranch dip!  Add hot sauce, chili powder and red pepper flakes for a sauce to drizzle over burritos or tacos.  For breakfast, I combine 2/3 of a cup of yogurt with a sprinkle of sweetener and either 1/4 cup of raisins or cranberries or 1/2 cup of chopped pineapple.  Plenty of protein, some fiber, calcium…a good way to start the day!

2. Tofu

Yup.  For real.  The facts are plain; tofu, made from soybean curd, is one of the leanest, cheapest forms of protein you can buy, and unlike nuts, meat and eggs, tofu is cholesterol and saturated fat-free.  Just make sure you’re purchasing the correct consistency for what you plan to do with it.  Firmer tofu is great for grilling and sautéing, while softer tofu works great when blended in desserts.  Soft tofu also works well when blended with ground beef or turkey in meatloaf, burgers, and lasagna.  Tofu does pick up the flavors of whatever it’s cooked with, so it’s virtually indistinguishable in dishes with meat.  I think the texture tends to turn people off as well, so if you can get away from imaging tofu as a slimy white brick and start imagining it as a great addition to a meatball sub, you’ll be well on your way to appreciating soybeans a little more.

3. Mushrooms

I despised mushrooms when I was a child.  I went so far as to pick tiny cubes of them out of any dish my mother made with cream of mushroom soup.  I’d devour the chicken or rice, but on my plate would remain a small pile of gray blocks that eventually ended up on the dog’s bowl.  For whatever reason, my opinion has changed as I have matured.  Now, I love sautéing them in a bit of olive oil and eating them as a dish on their own.  I also love threading them on skewers, brushing them with oil and sea salt, and throwing them on the grill.  I recently tried them in an omelet with mozzarella cheese and was pleasantly surprised that a meatless meal could be so tasty.  Like tofu, they function as a great filler in recipes requiring meat, but I rarely replace meat entirely.  After all, you can’t get the iron and vitamins you need from mushrooms and tofu alone!  The next big challenge is getting my husband to appreciate them as well! 

4. Spices

Being conscious of my sodium intake has actually encouraged me to be more creative and daring with spices.  Recent studies have shown some spices, like oregano, and cinnamon, to provide genuine, heart-healthy benefits like reducing cholesterol.  Ross loves Mexican food, so I find myself loading our meals with flavors like lime, cilantro, and cumin.  There’s so much intensity to these spices that we rarely need to add salt.  Italian meals benefit hugely from plenty of oregano, basil and garlic, of course, and my chili always contains two secret ingredients: curry for kick and cinnamon for sass!  Below is a chart for flavors that pair well.  Try them on meats, mixed with side dishes, or sprinkled on top of fresh or cooked vegetables.

Lime and cilantro

Black pepper, oregano and basil

Lemon and rosemary

Pepper, lemon and garlic

Chili and lime

Basil, thyme and garlic

Cumin, black pepper and red pepper

Dill, lemon and cilantro

5. Alternative Side Dishes

Thanks to more and more stores expanding their ethnic food sections, I have been finding myself picking  up packages with foreign writing all over them, taken them home and been pleased to find new favorite dishes.  Don’t get me wrong; sometimes I crave me some Velveeta Shells and Cheese Dinner, but I also love the mealy, earthy bite of barley and the almost creamy texture of couscous.  I add barely to my Italian wedding soup instead of the pasta.  It’s healthier, creates a heartier texture, and makes it unique.  Couscous tastes great on its own, but it’s also fantastic when mixed with sautéed zucchini, finely chopped onion and parmesan cheese.  Another trick I like is heating plain, unflavored croutons, with spices and low-sodium broth to create “homemade” stuffing.  Much faster than cooking it in the bird!    

Maybe these ideas don’t get your heart racing or your mouth watering, but maybe they’re helping open the door to trying new things.  It’s not always an overnight process, but in the end, it’s probably healthier, and more fun, than living on chicken nuggets, fries and ketchup (all due respect to Heinz, of course)!

Next up in the series: Stores!

Middle-Class Cooking: The Return of the Crock Pot!

I can't recall dedicating a blog to anyone, other than the one I wrote for my stepmother on Mothers' Day, but this one is for Tina and Suz, two of my pals from Starbucks who made a request for recipes for their slow-cookers.

So: dear Tina and Suz: Dis one's fer yinz 'n'at.

The first thing I should review, I suppose, are the few, but crucial, rules of cooking in a crock pot.  I mentioned them in a previous blog* but they bear repeating.  

a.) Don't cook pasta in a crock pot (unless you're monitoring it, and have put it in near the end of the cooking cycle); otherwise, it will turn into a glob of starch.

b.) Dried spices end up being much stronger than fresh ones in a crock pot.  If the recipe calls for fresh and you have only dried ones, you'll need to cut back by roughly half, depending on the flavor or what the recipe offers as an alternative.

c.)  You musn't keep lifting the lid to check your meal every fifteen minutes!  This allows heat to escape, and the crock pot needs to "recapture" the steam - and momentum - due to that heat loss.

d.) Not every recipe can be adapted for the crock pot.  For those that can, ensure you adjust measurements, especially liquid, accordingly.  Cut liquid measurements to about half of what the recipe requires.  You generally need very little or no liquid at all, depending on what you're cooking.  For example, I recently cooked a whole chicken with no added liquid at all and ended up with almost 2 1/2 cups of chicken broth in the pot!

e.) Although it seems contradictory, it's true that browning your meat before placing it in the crock pot produces a better flavor.  It seals in the juices and prevents the meat from getting too mushy.  However, it's by no means a requirement.  It depends on the time you have available to you...as well as how ambitious you feel!  The only exception is ground meats like beef or turkey, which end up producing a lot of grease in the crock pot unless browned and drained beforehand.

f.) About one hour on HIGH is equal to around 2 1/2 hours on LOW.  Plan accordingly.

Well, that's about all the rules I ever adhere to.  Now, here are some things that I like to make.

Classic Creamy Chicken

The most sturdy and time-tested of slow cooker recipes is among the simplest - even if it's not very glamorous!  Place four large boneless chicken breasts or six or seven breast halves in a medium-sized crock pot.  Combine one can of cream of mushroom soup with one can of cream of chicken soup.  Add a dash of pepper, some garlic powder, some onion powder.  Pour over chicken.  Cook on low for about 8 hours.  Serve over rice or noodles.   

Spicy Chili

This particular recipe is best in a smaller crock pot, which is the kind I generally use.  Brown a half-pound of ground beef and about a half-pound of "fondue-style" steak chunks (they're less tender than other cuts).  Drain, then place in the bottom of the crock pot.  Add one can of petite-cut diced tomatoes (I use the no-salt-added variety), one half-can of drained, rinsed black or kidney beans, one half-can of drained, rinsed sweet corn, one can of cream of tomato soup (again, I prefer the brands with less sodium).  Spices, of course, vary by individual preference, but I load my chili - stove-top as well as slow-cooked - with onion powder, black pepper, red pepper, cumin, garlic, and a sprinkle of both curry powder and cinnamon.  (You'll notice I omitted fresh onion from the menu.  Despite my European heritage, I've never been able to handle cooked onions.  I like the flavor and the scent but I can't stand the texture, and my husband feels the same, so we're an onion-free household!)  Cook on low for about 7 hours.  Great mixed with rice, topped with cheddar cheese!

 Pulled Pork

This one's easy.  Put into a small crock pot about a pound and a half of boneless pork loin.  Ribs are fine, but I prefer the loin because there's a lot more meat there.  In a separate bowl, combine a cup and a half of prepared barbecue sauce (I use Open Pit.  It's not the healthiest on the market, but it's cheap and it's what I remember from my childhood) with several splashes of hot sauce, black pepper, onion powder, garlic powder and about quarter cup of ginger ale or cola.  Pour over the meat and cook on low for about 7 hours.  When it's done, turn off the heat, remove the lid and let it sit for several minutes.  Then, take two forks and begin to pull apart the pork.  It will fall apart pretty easily.  If you prefer sauce that's not quite as runny, omit the ginger ale or cola.  Serve on toasted wheat buns or, for a twist, top with sauteed peppers, cheese and beans and serve atop tortilla chips or in a wrap (it's great with cole slaw).

Well, I think that's all the inspiration I can muster regarding cooking this afternoon.  The hubby is getting healthy veggie burgers tonight, whether he likes it or not, since we enjoyed a humongous, rich and delicious dinner at Mallorca Restaurant in the South Side last night.  I was still so full even this morning that all I've eaten today was a bowl of cereal and an egg white wrap.  Hope I'm hungry when the man gets home!

Middle-Class Cooking

Recently, my awesome mother-in-law loaned me a big pile of cooking magazines.  Although I rarely follow recipes, preferring to invent my own, I enjoy reading cookbooks and magazines for ideas, flavor combinations, and helpful hints.  I looked over the thin pamphlet-style magazines this morning while I ate a bowl of humidity-stale Reese's Puffs and day-old iced coffee, and man, did I ever feel inadequate!

Many women may claim to feel "judged" by beauty magazines.  They'll never look like the airbrushed girls on the front of Elle and Cosmo, so they get down on themselves.  They don't have perfect wavy honey locks or slim, sleek shoulders and upper arms, so they feel worthless.  It's a common problem with society as a whole and, specifically, the media, but I'm not getting into that now.  Maybe another blog.  And, although I've felt that way, too, when poring over articles titled "Get a Perfect Butt NOW" and "The Best Mascara for YOUR Eye Shape", I was shocked to feel the same sense of inadequacy when I read one called "Orange Chicken: Can This Third-Rate Chinese Restaurant Offering Be Turned Into A First-Rate Dish?"

I know it's not glamorous, but really?  Batter-fried chicken in a sticky, sweet sauce is third-rate?  And, if I like it, does that mean I have poor taste?

A slight digression, if you will: people who know me well know that I love to cook.  I really do.  I taught myself while in college and, although I still get cravings for Hot Pockets, Big Macs and Little Caesar's Hot 'n' Ready pizzas, I usually bring my lunch to work and cook dinner at home every night. To me, cooking is a gift I can share with others, plus, it keeps me from spending loads of money on takeout all the time. 

What's my style of cooking?  I'm not like "Semi-Homemade" Sandra Lee, who cuts massive corners but still produces pretty plates, nor am I Martha Stewart, whose reputation for "easy" crafts belies the serious effort I'd have to put into them.  I'm not the foodie scientist Alton Brown, who can produce an off-the-cuff lecture on the gases produced by a specific strain of grape to create the distinct flavor in a bottle of fine Chianti.  And, although I love her style and sass, I'm no Paula Deen.  I prefer olive oil to a slab of butter most of the time, and under 85% of what I cook is not, in fact, "southern-fried".  

I'm much more of a Rachael Ray, myself, although, I think my shoes are generally a little cuter.  Of course she's more famous and has more money so I think it evens out okay.  And when I say I'm a Rachael Ray, I mean that I enjoy cooking but I enjoy the creativity of it - rather than the "correct-ness" of it.  Plus, I'm short and Italian.

Back to the magazine on my kitchen table that was silently judging me.

It's a beautiful piece of literature.  There are artist's renditions of peppers or cucumbers or cilantro on the back of every issue, plus gorgeous hand-drawn step-by-step guides for many of the meals.  There are delicious-looking desserts and incredibly mouth-watering roasts photographed in charming settings.  There are reader tips on how to make life a little easier, or how to substitute everyday tools for hard-to-find specialty items.  There are also recommendations by the panel of writers regarding what type of pot you should buy for making pasta...what type of peanut butter makes the best satay sauce, and for what types of dish a saucier is really useful. 

And they made me feel stupid.  

One article in particular bragged about how the magazine's test kitchen baked nearly 3,000 cookies in order to recommend to its dear readers the perfect brand of cookie sheet.  Dear Lord!  Really?  I hope they gave those cookies to people who had no food to eat!  Or at least sent them home with the bakers to sugar up their children.  The articles rank products from "highly Recommend" to "Recommend" to "Recommend with Reservations" to "Not Recommended".  Well...I have eaten - and enjoyed - a veggie burger from the "Not Recommended" category.  Should I be ashamed?  Perhaps I should throw in my towel (and my apron) and give up on cooking and eating altogether, as I must be an abject failure at both.  

A rebellious part of my soul wants to intentionally purchase and force myself to like the items on the "Not recommended" list purely because of how haughty and judgmental the language is.  "This product's texture hardly provides the velvety-smooth mouthfeel its advertising implies."  I wanna root for the underdog. "Go, generic shredded cheddar!  I believe in you!  You melt just fine and you're cheap!  I LOVE YOU, GENERIC CHEDDAR!"

I'm willing to try exotic ingredients if I can afford them.  I like cooking with tofu and organic fruits and veggies.  I make my own spaghetti sauce.  But, I do not possess a brisket-slicing knife.  Nowhere in my kitchen does there exist a Dutch oven.  I don't keep almond paste or macadamia nut oil in my pantry.  I think bottled barbecue sauce is acceptable (provided the sodium content is not obscene).  I am okay with using frozen chicken breasts, rather than carving up my own roaster every time I want a casserole.  And it would seem that makes me fall far short of this magazine's intended audience.

Pass the middle-class green bean casserole, would you, please?