Grazing like a gazelle at the holiday party

Feeling colicky, I stayed at home from work, the nearer (my god) to be to thee (the restroom). Louisa, if she's reading this, will probably blame my crap diet for my crapulous gut, but I know better: bacterial conspiracy, deliberate, clandestine, dangerous.

Before Jenna left for her day, I made a five-egg omelet with a small handful of shredded cheddar cheese, condimented by ketchup and Frank's per her preference. I ate less than half of this.

After a few hours of waxing and waning (bed-rest and sickness), I roused myself because, under the weather or not, I had to prepare for the party at night. I cleaned the house and prepared food, much of which I nibbled on in a small way during prep. The menu:

• turkey keilbasa pan-fried with garlic
• turkey keilbasa pan-fried with grape tomatoes
• cocktail meatballs, in a sweet-and-sour sauce made of ketchup and grape jelly
• crudité, consisting of cucumber, celery, baby carrots, and steamed green beans
• bruschetta of whole-wheat Triscuit crackers (rosemary, and black pepper flavors, I think I recall), with a topping of roasted diced tomatoes with vinegar, oil, sugar, salt, pepper, and herbs
• bean dip, of cannellini white beans, vinegar, olive oil, herbs, a bit of mayo, and a bit of horseradish cream sauce
• fillo cups with a filling of smashed white potatoes with broiled bacon, horseradish, and cheddar cheese
• baked ziti, with low-fat ricotta, an outofajar ragout with onions, peppers, and mushrooms, and shredded mozzarella
• brownies

There were cookies, of course -- dulche de leche and coco Maria cookies, generic sandwich cookies, some fudgey crisp graham cracker things Erin brought, the whole gamut -- as well as other nosh: caper berries, stuffed olives, cashews. A real colorful mish-mash it was. And much to drink; I stuck mostly to calimocho or plain diet cola. Jenna obstructed my plan to sneak a glass of low-fat eggnog. Horrid of her, I know, but people get crazy around the holidays, you know. Many sips of the open bottles were had -- a raspberry ale Ethan and Erin had brought, a muscadet from our own wine rack, whatever was being passed.

I didn't eat so much, really; just browsing throughout the evening. When I went to bed, I wasn't groaningly full (not like the day before, as I pushed away from the table, admitting defeat to my enchilada), but I still felt pleasingly decadent.

A single-meal Sunday

Brunch with Julie A. at Border Café up on Route One, before we went to see The Fighter. My usual -- a tumbler of their orange soda (not diet -- shame, shame) and Gulf Coast seafood enchilada, with black beans instead of jambalaya, and a scoop each of sour cream and guacamole. Toxic, savory, creamy, delicious. Recognizing my folly halfway through the meal, I pulled up short, and set aside a little less than half of the plate to take-away. That, later, was dinner, reheated, with Jenna on the couch. Also three pastelitos with a sweet cilantro dipping sauce -- Julie was on the prowl for an appetizer. Following her lead, I also ordered and emptied a Corona light.

In the car on the way to the cinema, Julie shared her stash: a baggie of cake balls, leftover from a party the night before whose culinary theme had been just that: balls. Red velvet cake from a box mix, shaped into truffle-sized spheres and rolled in icing and candy sugar. Crazy good. I had maybe five.

Back again with two quick meals

Breakfast: a packet of Hostess Twinkies given to me by a faculty member with more brains than appetite. Lunch, at 11:30: a slide of cheese pizza from T Anthony's, purloined from the faculty grading party going on in our conference room, washed down by a mugful of Sprite I found in the fridge. I will now have some water. There, that should neatly cancel out the calories from the soda. Right? Help.

I couldn't resume my blogging earlier? As last week, when I had a lovely meal with mah gal over at Grafton Street? Or earlier this week, at a birthday party in Allston held at a great Indian restaurant, or last month when one of the faculty shared leftovers from a Persian class dinner the night before -- khoresht e baamieh, oh la la. No. I had to restart with Junk Food Friday. 

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A question for the day: in the long run, will the money I save by scavenging food and eating food gifts, by more than the money I have to pay to remedy all the health problems I develop from eating pizza and snack cakes regularly?

4 xii 10

Yes, I faltered out of the blocks. But here I am, back to paying attention to my diet, after resolving once again to be more disciplined in my posting.

In the morning, before hopping on the Red Line north, a few handfuls of Cap'n Crunch Crunch Berry cereal. Dry. Out of the bag. Neat.

At the South Street Diner, we had a late breakfast. Feeling sluggish, I ordered a 6 oz sirloin steak with two eggs over-easy; the red meat to refresh my hungry hemes. The consumption of mammals makes me uncomfortable. Also two pieces of raisin cinnamon toast with butter, and a hearty helping of thick-cut hom fries with ketchup. Two glasses of diet cola, one and a half of ice water. I also between a third and a half of Jenna's meal, an egg white omelette with American cheese, bell pepper, onions, and spinach. A mouthful of her raisin cinnamon toast, and some of her home fries. And, sigh, a brownie sundae. The brownies had nuts; the sundae had a scoop each of vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry. Chocolate sauce and whipped cream were present and consumed. She had some; I had most.

I don't like my tendency to turn this blog into a record of my guilt. It isn't a confessional -- what's the confess? That I have impulsive eating habits, sometimes? I'm not the worst.

Dinner I made with Ellen Adair, a dear friend who is visiting from New York City, where she is an actress and, when she finds the time, a writer for her own pleasure. We fried crab cakes, made with claw meat, wheat crackers crushed on the spot, mayo and eggs for binder, tumeric for color and flavor, and bell pepper and onion for texture. Also a nice handful of finely chopped herbs leftover from the Thanksgiving preparations last week: parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. And black pepper. I ate one cake, with a sauce made from brown mustard, mayo, and chopped parsley. Also on the plate were: a spring mix salad with saltanas and grape tomatoes with light Italian dressing; a scoop of last Thursday's cranberry-apple-orange peel relish; and a hash made from leftover ham, mushrooms, potatoes, and onions. I also had two pieces of very nice bread with oleo. Three (!) cans of Coke Zero, and a glass of Martinelli's apple cider with a splash of pinot grigot.

Dessert was a ginger shortbreat, made with light brown sugar, almond oil, ground ginger, butter, flour, and semi-sweet chocolate chips. I had, oh, about half of the one-sixth slice I brought upstairs to Jenna the Studious, when I also gave her the framed print I made for her for her birthday. Cake and art: am I not the best? Confession, I am the best.

Resumption

I regret not having kept up with this. There have been some good meals recently, which I should have liked to record. One day's lunch, when S.T. shared his leftovers from the previous evening's classroom dinner, was Persian: flat bread, salad-e shirazi, khoreshteh bamieh, roast chicken, and polo, or boiled rice, though with none of the tasty crusty rice from the bottom of the pan, tah-deeg -- I suspect Sassan ate all of it, leaving none for me. Then there was Thanksgiving: a starter course of crab cake and msclun salad with Caesar dressing; a corn chowder with haddock; then the Big Show, roast turkey and apple-cranberry stuffing, boiled corn, sweet and sour stewed cabbage, whipped squash, mashed potatoes, cranberry-orange relish, french bread, Durkee green bean casserole, spiral-cut ham. And of course the days before and after of holiday eating: snacks and pie and pudding and so on to excess.

So, back on track, with today's consumption to be detailed tonight after the last meal is eaten.