Saturday, January 5, 2008

New Year's (re)solution


Many of us will begin 2008 with noble expectations of self-betterment. With diet ads abound making every American regret his Christmas pudding, most of us will attempt to eat "better" and lose weight. Others will promise themselves to exercise more, spend less money, or quit smoking. Some will become seekers, hoping to find a better job, true love, or fulfillment in one's daily life. But by February, the winter doldrums will set in, and most of us will forgo the treadmill, buy a $12 full-spectrum lightbulb to ease Seasonal Affective Disorder, and plop down on the couch at home, alone, with a pint of Ben & Jerry's and an ashtray full of cigarette butts.

This sad relapse is the New Year's Burn-Out, the result of American society's go-go attitude of self-deprivation toward self-betterment. By going cold-turkey on holiday indulgences, we become wrapped up in a pattern of denying ourselves the very things that made us so jolly all December long. Many of these things became our crutches for Holiday Survival (mulled wine to ease awkward cocktail party conversation; Christmas cookies and sugar plums helped to stave off hunger while waiting for holiday meals; a cigarette taken outside to escape family arguments around the table). But come January 1, we are compelled to deny ourselves all of the wonderful foods we discovered during the holidays in the vain attempt to achieve perfection in the New Year and become conquerors of the New Year's Resolution Crapshoot.

Over the past few years, I have discovered something rather interesting. Like many 18-year-old-girls, I entered college with an intense fear of gaining the Freshman-15, and thus spent my first year living in New York City confined to the gym and bland salad bars, depressed and frustrated. Two years later I moved to Paris, where I spent four months without a gym and without salad bars, and I rediscovered -- of all the simple things -- the yolk of an egg. It was in Paris that I ate bread with every meal (white bread, no less), drank wine every evening, had butter smeared on almost everything, and ate chocolate every night before bed. And yet, much to the disbelief of my friends, I didn't gorge myself on croissants; all the while I lived in Paris, I had but one, and never craved the buttery patisserie. When I returned home, everyone was shocked and concerned: I had lost a considerable amount of weight without realizing it.

The weight loss wasn't because I had taken up chain smoking or starved myself; I ate all of my meals and snacked in between. Who wouldn't, when an entire city's philosophy is geared towards spending languorous hours eating and drinking in sidewalk cafés? I discovered the answer to what Michael Pollan in The Omnivore's Dilemma calls "the French paradox": "how could a people who eat such demonstrably toxic substances as foie gras and triple crème cheese actually be slimmer and healthier than we are?" Because the French invented the term "laissez faire" that we Capitalist Americans love to throw around. But, we regularly ignore the translation that the French use in their everyday lives: "Let it be: I simply don't care."

Here is where we come to the point: New Year's Resolutions are for sissies. They are cop-out ways of deluding ourselves into making our lives better. This year, resolve not to resolve anything. But do instead reflect on your personal goût, your tastes and what makes you happy. Forget about your crutches, and if you do have bad habits, kick them. But for your sake and the sake of all that tastes good, skip the diet and eat well.

Of course, there is a difference between eating healthy and not eating healthy. Eating out every night is unhealthy, as is eating at fast food restaurants and eating processed foods. So is not eating at all. Healthy eating is part practice and part philosophy -- but most of all, it's common sense. There is plenty out there to guide us toward healthy meals. When you think about what to prepare yourself, think healthy foods as tools to help you lose weight; think instead of foods to help you live healthfully -- ingredients that are good for the longevity of your body, and for the happiness of your soul.

But many of us need instruction and guidance, and so I will offer a bit of my own personal advice. I don't purport to be an expert on perfecting eating habits, but I do know about eating well.

1. Don't diet. Diets are about denial, and they are temporary. Everyone says "change the way you eat for life"; I would agree, but you should also change the way you think about food.

2. Food is a precious commodity (vegetable gardeners know how difficult it is to raise healthy crop), so treat it as such. Appreciate what you are eating, and for the love of food, eat real food that doesn't come sealed in plastic.

3. Vary your meals, experiment with new ingredients, and don't be afraid to use "unhealthy" ingredients in moderation. See what is available from local farmers, and enjoy the variety of eating seasonally. This is important to keep yourself interested in invested in eating well; anyone in their right mind would stop dieting just to get away from cottage cheese and melon.

4.
Feed yourself. This implies that you should be aware of those things for which you are hungry. Are you craving chocolate cake? Well, that's probably because you like chocolate cake. Allow yourself to eat the cake in correct portion and measure, pace yourself, eat it slowly. Chances are, after you've enjoyed your cake, you won't crave another piece five minutes later, tomorrow, or maybe even next week. That one piece of chocolate cake saved you from slurping down Weight Watchers chocolate shakes that taste like styrofoam until you've finally satiated your craving for chocolate.

5.
Always have dessert.


I will confess that I have made a resolution to myself: to keep up with my blogging. For everyone who has kept checking, thank you, and I promise that more is coming your way. Throughout January, I will give you some of my favorite healthy recipes, and I encourage you to send me some of your own.

So Happy New Year from me and from Goûter. As the French say before meals to encourage a healthy appetite: bon appétit!

Saturday, December 1, 2007

Beer-Glazed Sausages with Charred Onions and Polenta



A few weeks ago, Emily's friends from Vienna were in town, visiting New York. They spent the week walking around the city, shopping and dining, clubbing and drinking. Whenever they were around the apartment, I naturally inquired about Viennese cuisine -- its pastries, its savories, its sweets. As the week progressed, I began craving German food, though I had rarely -- if ever -- had during my life. I proposed that on their last night I make everyone dinner to satisfy my craving, which had manifested itself in a craving for sausage.

I came up with this recipe for a sausage meal, which I think seems to be a marriage of German food (with the sausages and beer) and Mediterranean cuisine (with the polenta and roasted tomato. In keeping with this Austro-Mediterranean theme, we served the meal with a rich Catena Malbec wine instead of beer, which paired rather well with the buttery sausage and the charred onions. But to top off our meal, the Austrians pulled out some strong vodka, which we served with a Sour Cherry Tart from Silver Moon Bakery, and a lesson in key German phrases.

Somehow, the beer "sauce" that I originally intended to make came out as more of a glaze, perhaps because of the high yeast content of the beer I used. The result was deliciously thick, salty, and a bit sweet: a perfect last meal with new friends to say auf wiedersehen, a bittersweet goodbye.



BEER-GLAZED SAUSAGES WITH CHARRED ONIONS AND POLENTA

Serves 4-6

Six uncooked sausages, bought from butcher
1 small yellow Onion, cut into quarter-circle slices
½ cup Dark German Ale
2-3 vine tomatoes, cut in half
Fresh thyme
Olive oil

1 cup Polenta corn meal
2 cups water
½ cup grated Parmesan Cheese
Pinch of salt and pepper

Turn on broiler to high.

Cut tomatoes in half along their width. On a small dish, pour a circle of olive oil, add a sprinkling of salt, pepper, and fresh thyme leaves. Rub tomatoes, on the cut side down, in olive oil and herb mixture (these will be the tops of the tomatoes that face up in the broiler). Sprinkle a bit of Parmesan cheese on top of oiled tomatoes. Arrange tomatoes in a broiler pan, and put under broiler. Cook all the way through, until soft. Remove from oven and let cool.

While tomatoes are under broiler, heat a large sauté pan on high. Add oil to pan, turn down to medium heat, and add sausages. Begin cooking sausages by browning on all sides. Add onions and fresh thyme leaves to sausages. Turn sausages occasionally to cook through on all sides. When onions begin to brown, cut sausages in half length-wise and then in half across, keeping links in pan to continue cooking. Sauté sausages, cut side down, adding ale. Turn town heat to let mixture simmer, cover, and cook sausages all the way through, allowing onions to char.

In a medium-sized pot, bring two cups water to a low boil. Add polenta in a thin stream, stirring mixture with the other hand. Turn down heat to a simmer and stir polenta slowly. As the mixture begins to thicken, add parmesan cheese, salt, and pepper. Turn off heat, stir occasionally.

Keep an eye on the sausages to be sure that the meat cooks all the way through. When onions turn black and begin to char and the beer turns to a thick glaze, the dish should be ready.

Spoon a helping of polenta on a plate, arranging sausages and onion on top. Set one half of a roasted tomato on the side. Garnish with a sprinkling of fresh thyme leaves.

Guten appetit!


Saturday, November 24, 2007

So many leftovers, so little time...



Thanksgiving: a gourmand's fantasy and a gourmet's nightmare. After a day of feasting, followed by a day of turkey-and-stuffing sandwiches, the last thing anyone wants to do is open the refrigerator again to find more leftovers, quickly becoming stale and begging to be eaten yet again.

But one can only have so many turkey sandwiches after Thanksgiving before going into a tryptophan-Turkey-induced coma and forsaking turkey entirely for another year. Thanksgiving seems to be the holiday that creates the most waste; so much food is made, so much food is eaten, but still so much food is thrown away. Instead of throwing away our leftovers, my mother and I got creative this morning and decided to make a batch of Sweet Potato "Pumpkin" Muffins using the leftover sweet potatoes that no one wanted to eat. These muffins are the perfect antidote to an over-indulgent Thanksgiving meal: they are moist, sweet, and seemingly indulgent, but they're actually very healthy and full of fiber to help digest the weekend's food frenzy. We call them "pumpkin" muffins to deceive our cousins who were wary of the idea of a vegetable in a muffin. We modified the recipe from the book "Smart Muffins" by Jane Kinderlehrer (New Market Press, 1987).




SWEET POTATO "PUMPKIN" MUFFINS

2 Eggs
3/4 cup mashed Sweet Potato
2 Tbsp canola oil
2/3 cup Apple Cider
2 Tbsp honey
1 Tbsp molasses
1 cup Whole Wheat Pastry Flour
1/4 Soy Flour
1 Tbsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soad
1 tsp cinnamon
1 Tbsp grated orange rind
1/2 tsp ginger
1/4 ground cloves
1/8 tsp freshly grated nutmeg
1/2 currants
Pumpkin seeds and cane sugar for garnish


Preheat oven to 400* Fahrenheit. Prepare 12 regular-sized muffin cups with baking muffin cups.

In a food processor, blend together eggs, sweet potato, oil, cider, honey and molasses so that the batter becomes light and fluffy.

In another bowl, mix together the flours, baking powder, baking soda, spices, and currants. Fold sweet potato mixture to dry ingredients a little at a time until mixture is completely incorporated. Do not overmix.

Spoon mixture into muffin tins. Sprinkle tops of muffins with pumpkin seeds and sugar crystals. Bake for 25-30 mins, until a toothpick comes out clean. The interior of the muffins will remain moist and soufflé-like.

Enjoy with a cup of tea or coffee after Thanksgiving company is has left.

Bon appétit!