Juice Diet Gone Wrong

So, I have been carefully researching KitchenAid mixers for weeks on end, comparing models and features and pricing at a host of different stores.  My trusty Sunbeam mixer was on the outs, and I have been lusting after a KitchenAid one for years and years... Such a serious decision cannot be made lightly, so we went down to the local Williams Sonoma a couple weeks ago so I could talk to some experts and paw the merchandise some more.

Not prepared to make a final decision, we went home so I could sleep on it.  That night, I suggested we watch Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead, a movie about the incredible benefits of juice dieting.  Go ahead and watch it too, and if you're anything like me, you will be absolutely hypnotized into giving up solid food.  For two days.  At least that's how far I made it before I got a little shaky and started dreaming about crusty baguettes.

Turns out, it's just want I needed to push me over the edge to commit to the KitchenAid, which is now sitting prettily on the counter where the juicer used to be.  And I am steadily working hard to put back every one of those seven pounds I lost on the juice diet (that can't be good right?) by heartily exercising my new mixer and just about every other gadget in my kitchen.  I've gone on a cooking frenzy this weekend, which is precisely the opposite intended effect Le Juice Diet was supposed to have.  Go figure.

Meanwhile, here are some things that I have learned:

1.  I love beets, but I hate their juice. (And there's no amount of culinary trickery that can cover up beet juice flavor, even vodka*.)
2.  If I were trapped on a desert island, I would faint and plead starvation in a matter of about 5 hours.  (You would not want to be there.)
3.  Relatedly, I am kinder on solid foods. (My spouse can testify).
4.  I will never buy another bagel again.  This is freedom.
5.  Happiness is warm bread baking in the oven.


I give you a smattering of the past few days' cooking adventures:

BAGELS!
You can make bagels at home.  Yes,  that's right, bagels.  Crisp, chewy, tender bagels warm from the over to your tummy.  I didn't think it was possible, but it can be done.  Straightforward recipe from The Sophisticated Gourmet.

Dough is formed.

Dough is boiled.

Dough is baked.

Bagel nirvana is achieved.

SUSHI
Hot off the cocky high  that I can make bagels, I decided I could make sushi too.  I know, I know.  Okay, five hours of slicing and prepping and fiddling later, here were the results.  (Sushi rice recipe from Alton Brown.)

Fried rice with jalepeno (an asian-fusion style inspired by Casa Mun).

California roll (back row) and two veggie rolls.

Spicy tuna.

 I think I need some more practice, but very fun to try and greatly increases my appreciation for the craft.


Various Mediterranean Mezze

Clockwise - Roasted Eggplant Spread, Tarama, Spicy White Bean Dip

POT de CREME

Little pots of chocolatey-goodness.

Now I'm off to make cupcakes with my new darling treasure... and then I'm done, I swear.  These juice diets are the WORST!

* Vodka is not an element of the juice diet, but I had to try for experimentation's sake.  Trust me, if you want a Bloody Mary, just go for the V8 from the store.

Diet is not part of my vocabulary...

... and unfortunately, it shows.  I enjoy food.  I think that part is probably already obvious.  It is not a reason for living, but it is a significant contributor to living well.  So it should be no surprise that my appreciation for food reflects itself in all aspects of my life, including my thighs.  And my backside.  And maybe a little around the middle... Sigh.

I am picky about food.  Like Remy said in Ratatoille, "If you are what you eat, then I only want the good stuff."  I have earned my plumpness honestly, with full-fat soft French cheeses, roast succulent duck, deep dark molten chocolate cake with whipped creme...  I am not a fast food eater,  and processed foods and frozen meals have never entered my kitchen or my mouth, ever.  So when diets call for cutting out Doritos and McMeals and SnoBalls, and encourage dieters to shop the perimeter of the supermarket for the fresh stuff, I think I am pretty much living the righteous life already.  What more could I do, give up butter?  Champagne?  Mais non!

As I have always been on the heavier side of the scale, I have learned to be comfortable with my weight.  Since clothes are also a big pleasure for me, it's meant finding the right silhouettes and designers that make me feel great.  But it can be limiting sometimes too, but don't we all have our own fashion limitations?  Sure, it would be nice to fit into the sample sizes at Rodarte's sample sale (that's a size 2 in case you are wondering), but I can find plenty of nice things at the Armani outlet in size 14 too.

Up until high school my mom prayed I would just lose that "baby fat" eventually, but it hasn't since panned out (I am now in my early thirties) and the scales have gently tipped upwards over the years.  I still fit into all the high end designers I love -- Armani, Valentino, Chanel -- albeit I generally take the largest size on the rack.  My partner thinks I am beautiful just the way I am.  My health is good, I am happy, so what more should I want?

Well, a lot, actually.  I want to climb the hill that goes up to our development without getting winded.  I want to feel more energetic when I get up in the mornings.  I want to see people I haven't seen in 10 years, and have them exclaim, "wow! you look great!" and actually mean it.  I want to stop getting carded when I try to buy alcohol (it's my darn baby face, and chubby cheeks are the main contributor).  I want to go on the family cruise to Hawaii next Christmas and feel good about being in a bathing suit.  I want to live a long healthy life, with as much opportunity to enjoy and savor and do as possible.

They say losing weight is one of the hardest things to do.  I have never known a "thin" me I can yearn for or visualize.  I have never known a different way to eat, or how to get daily activity.  This is going to be really, really hard.

So today I did something I never thought I would do.  I joined Weight Watchers.  It felt awkward going to the meeting and sitting there with everyone.  It felt like I was making a public confession that I needed help from strangers on a very private matter.  But I am doing it.  Because there are a lot of things I want, even more than fresh warm crepes slathered in Nutella.  Shoot!  Why did I just think of that?  How many points is it, anyway... hmm.