Beware of dieting cults

SW: I am always forgetting your apartment number.
Dad: Ah, just ring any bell.  No one here asks, they just open the door for anyone who rings.   Always letting these cult people enter the building and knock on your door to proselytize.
SW:  Cult people?
Dad:  Yeah, just last night had to explain two gentlemen from Weight Watchers that we are not interested in their literature.  Thought they would never leave.
SW:  Weight Watchers???
Dad:  (mistaking my incredulity for religiously motivated outrage)  Yes, from Weight Watchers!
SW:  You mean, Watch Tower?
Dad:  Weight Watchers, Watch Tower, they are all the same.

Dad, you thought you were joking, but, as the saying goes, there's a grain of truth in any joke. 

Corn chips anyone?

Well, I, for one, am glad that I didn't make that long list of resolutions for 2012.  Because the one about being a more attentive, gentler, and less yelling mom would've been broken - yes, you guessed it on January 1.  Here's the photographic evidence of my motherly inattentiveness.

Oh no, I do not think that I am an evil mother because my child fell asleep on the floor.  I am told it happens to the few lucky ones whose kids fall asleep on their own.  Which today is me!  (me! me! me!)   It's what I did next that makes me a viable contender for the title of Horrible Mother of the Year.  I reached for the camera only to realize that the battery is completely dead.  So I did  what any caring mother would've done in my place - went to charge the battery.  Then I snapped a few, OK, quite a few shots.  I might or might not have uploaded the picture on Facebook before finally transferring the poor kid to bed; I'll leave that up to your imagination.  

On the bright side please note that the floor is relatively clean (on a day when kids were mostly home!) and the chips next to the sleeping kid are organic.  So there's hope for me.  And for my kids.  And for Target, whose products are getting free advertisement from my blog.  

P.S. I was about to publish this, but Blogger had issues.  And of course the baby woke up.  She came into the living room, saw her picture on the screen and started screaming, "It's me, it's me.  I fell!"  I said, "No, baby, you fell asleep on the floor."  She gave me one horrified look and said, "Oh my God."  I think that describes it all.  

Sub-cry for help

Co-worker, looking in my trash can:  Wow that is a lot of candy wrappers!
SubWife: (evil glare)
Co-worker:  No, really, that IS lots and lots of Milky Way wrappers!
SubWife:  Apparently, not everyone is eager to see 2012...

Is the guy is suicidal and that was his cry for help?  Should I get involved?  Let me ponder this over chocolate; I've heard sugar helps brain activity.

P.S. Pointing to someone how much chocolate they have consumed takes the "fun" out of the fun size candy.  Really.

The origins

A few days ago I was passing by my Indian co-worker, Pinter. (Pinter is not his real name and he is not married to Sue Ellen Mischke.) He was eating lunch at his desk, but upon seeing me, motioned for me to come to his desk. Turns out he ordered a kosher falafel from one of the new kosher places near work. Somehow, every time someone non observant or not Jewish on the floor orders kosher, they feel the need to share this with me. I don't mind, I find it peculiar, but cute. Though I do feel somehow responsible if their meal does not meet their expectations.

This time, I could breathe with ease because we had a very happy customer. Pinter was widely smiling and asking me whether I had tried falafel from the new place. "It's very good,"declared Pinter. He described in detail the contents of his pita and commented on crispiness of the falafel balls. "It tastes just like falafel I had growing up." I had no idea that falafel was known in India. I was sure that the dish was of Middle Eastern origin, and also vaguely remembered a conversation with another Indian co-worker where falafel was mentioned, but as a newly discovered food. I was about to unleash all of my thought process on the poor Pinter, but something made me proceed with caution.

"Did you mother make falafel from scratch?" seemed reasonably safe.

"No, we usually bought it." How odd. I think his falafel was getting cold because I could sense the anxiety in Pinter's voice. But I couldn't let go. I had to find out which provinces in India were privy to the secrets of falafel making. Look, I never finished - ok, even started - War and Peace and must fill in the blanks in my primary education.

"Did it taste the same? Was it also in a pita?" I pressed on.

We got back on Pinter's favorite subject, I guess, though I am not sure whether it was his childhood or food, because all of a sudden he started reminiscing completely forgetting about the danger of the perfectly crispy falafel balls turning soggy. He described in great detail the falafel of his childhood, which oddly enough was very similar to the one he was eating right now. Then he seamlessly switched to other memories from childhood and finished with, "We were the only Indian family on the block." Waaaait a minute. What???

And then it hit me. I completely forgot that Pinter was born and bread in Boro Park, the heart of Jewish Brooklyn. He must've told me this a hundred times... Next time I talk to him, I must not forget that he lives in Monroe and does not commute from New Delhi... It would also be nice to bring the guy sufganiyot come Chanukah time. He must miss them like crazy...

You just can't win.

So there I was thinking that I am doing this great thing for my family by force feeding them fruits and vegetables. Turns out - I was stuffing them with pesticides. If you are too lazy busy to check out the link, here's the list of the produce containing the largest amount of pesticides:

Celery

Peaches

Strawberries

Apples

Domestic blueberries

Nectarines

Sweet bell peppers

Spinach, kale and collard greens

Cherries

Potatoes

Imported grapes

Lettuce

Incidentally, this so-called dirty dozen represents about 90-95% of all produce that we buy. I remembered reading somewhere that farmers' market produce, even if non-organic, is usually lower in pesticides, so I visited one such market. I did expect the prices to be higher, but didn't expect them to be that high. Given that we already spend significant amount of money on this on a weekly basis, I just can't afford to triple that amount. And if I go organic - forget it, I just can't. So what do I do? Stick to avocados and grapefruit? Or do I still serve this chemical laden stuff?

Ugh!!!!

Baby Pollock

Baby is trying to assert her independence and refuses to be fed. SHE WANTS TO DO IT HERSELF!!! NOW!!! This new development (actually not so new, I am just behind on blogging) limits the foods we can give her as she clearly cannot feed herself with a spoon. Yogurt is out. So is cottage cheese. And soup. And apple sauce. Or any kind of jarred baby food. If she gets her chubby fingers on edibles of this sort, anything within a 3 foot radius can and will be covered in the mentioned above food.

But her food adventures don't stop here. With fruit and berry season upon us and limited access to other art supplies, Baby explores her artistic side with whatever she can find on her plate. Her technique needs some improvement, as it mostly consists of taking fistfuls of berries and smearing them all over herself and her booster seat; on the other hand, something similar worked for Jackson Pollock, or am I mixing him up with someone else? (Original title of this entry was baby Warhol... Thank you wikipedia for setting me straight.)

Exhibit A: White is so boring! The booster seat obviously needed a touch of color. Enter blackberries!


Exhibit B: Who picked these clothes for me? Let's add a drop of avocado to bring out the pink in the shirt and blue in denim, shall we? (Note from Baby's future editor: It required special dedication to get avocado on her knee. I am still wondering how she had done it while being strapped in a chair with a tray table over her lap.)




Exhibit C: Baby in white - sitting in her white booster seat covered in yogurt could not have been located. That should add value to it upon discovery.

Exhibit D: Inspired by Lady Gaga, baby covered in red raspberry tidbits and juice. Since raspberries stain like crazy, photo op has been canceled in favor of Baby's clothes preservation.

I have a feeling that Baby will get a strong following after this post. Let me assure you that we are ready for fame, so don't hesitate to contact me for the piece of Baby's art. Our prices are not cheap, but fair given the talent we are dealing with here. To her critics I have this to say - hold your horses. She is still a young and developing artist, and I assure you she is working on her smearing technique DAILY! Let's pray that SubHub and his penchant for neatness won't squash the budding talent here.

Do as your mother does, or maybe don't.

Supper in SubCasa, and mac'n'cheese is on the menu. DD is playing with a string of cheese. I am putting a fork in my mouth and for some reason macaroni on my fork lose balance and start to fall off. At the same time SubHub, who is not paying attention to me, notices DD with her tongue stuck out trying to catch her string of cheese and says, "DD, why are you playing with your food? Do we eat like that? You should see how you mother eats and eat like her, " just as I catch macaroni with my left hand and quickly shove them in my mouth, the entire handful in one shot. OK, I never claimed to be perfect. SubHub did.

I would like a side of air with that

I met a friend whom I haven't seen in a while this past Purim. Amid the sugarfest that Purim inevitably becomes, we somehow got on a conversation about the evils of sugar and processed carbs. Her point was, if I understood correctly, that many health-related evils are directly or indirectly related to sugar consumption. In order to be healthy one must completely eliminate all refined sugar and simple carbs.

I am not a big defender of sugar or white bread. I definitely could stand to lose quite a few pounds and eliminating sugar would help. However, I am just not buying the theory that all the evil is rooted in sugar. (I will also admit that few things in life are as satisfying as a freshly baked still warm white bread with a cold glass of milk. So yeah, I am biased.)

On the other hand, there are many other theories that blame other foods for all the ailments humanity suffers. There are those who say that dairy is evil; others say that it's actually meat; then there are those who claim that the only healthy lifestyle is avoiding all animal-derived foods. It doesn't stop there. One of my colleagues, citing numerous studies, said that fruit is to be avoided because it is high in sugar and whole grain Cheerios is bad for you. It doesn't end here because there are evils lurking in the form of salt, caffeine, alcohol, hydrogenated oils, not to mention preservatives, pesticides, coloring agents and other man-made chemicals.

Where does that leave me, if I were to follow every advice? Initially I wanted to say "with spinach", but there's E. Coli, then I wanted to say "cucumbers", but someone told me that the seeds in those could be bad for some people. Then I thought of beans, but men - how much beans can one consume before becoming a menace to society? (The answer: not much.) So that leaves me with an empty plate and stomach. Which would make advocates of the very low calorie lifestyle very happy. But not me...


Full disclosure: the post was written while drinking fully NON-decaffeinated Irish Breakfast tea and home made raisin cookies most definitely baked with sugar.

The Mysterious Affair at SubCasa

Okay, now after the badly written and depressing to boot post, something light and fluffy, courtesy of DS.

He has been asking me for a week to make cheesecake, and I finally obliged on Sunday. We all had a piece last night, and when DS asked for seconds, I told him that he could get another piece in the morning. Of course, the first thing he did upon awakening was to make sure that the cheesecake was still there. I was in my bedroom when bewildered DS stormed in there. "Mommy, the cheesecake got spoiled!" I thought he was referring to the crack in the cheesecake and hoping that DS didn't drop it in his attempt at cheesecake poaching. I rushed into the kitchen and didn't see any signs of foul play. The aluminun pan with the cheesecake was safely standing on the top shelf of the fridge. Then DS opened up another 9x13 pan and said, "See, mommy, cheesecake got spoiled! It turned into chicken!"

Would you like a menu?

I discovered tonight, to my great shame and embarrassment (which I of course had to share) that the kid who had been whining and crying and finally screaming for the past hour (and waking up every half hour for 2 hours before that) was NOT doing that because she was a) teething, b) in need of a good burp, 3) in pain, 4) needed a diaper change, or 5) simply trying my patience. She, actually, was hungry, a fact obscured by her refusal to eat apples with oats, lukewarm acceptance of cottage cheese and a look of disgust and contempt she gave me every time I offered to nurse her. Turned out the kid wanted real food. She wanted chicken and wouldn't settle for anything else.



Her whining turned into giggles as soon as she saw me taking a chicken leg out of the fridge. Now that she had filled her little tummy with the food of her choice and once clean kitchen floor is covered with pieces of half-chewed chicken that were previously smeared all over her face in a fit of gastronomical euphoria, my little carnivore easily dosed off without rocking, holding, nursing or a pacifier. And I am still up, feeling like a horrible mother who deprived her child of nutrition.

One would think that after experimenting on the first two, things of this sort wouldn't happen with #3. Alas, that's not true, or I am somewhat motherly challenged. To my defense I have to say that a) I feel terrible, b) bothered by her lack of interest in solid food, I have searched Internet for a good portion of the day trying to figure out how much a 10 month old should eat, c) unfortunately (or fortunately) she is the only child of this age I encountered, mine or otherwise, who would rather go hungry than eat something she doesn't WANT (but likes at other times, just not today).

Fortunately (or unfortunately) she's #3 and guilt won't keep me up much longer.

Out of the mouth of the babe...

DS, patting his protruding ribs and concave tummy after lunch, "I have a big tummy, just like Mommy and ___." There were quite a few other names, but I won't mention that...

Currently trying to decide whether to multiply this year's goal for weight loss by 3 or by 4. Baby steps are obviously not working.

With friends like these who needs a climate change?

Last week I did something I normally don't - I bought kids chicken nuggets. They were on sale, kids don't eat normal chicken anyway, and it would make dinner preparation for a few nights much easier - so why not? Well, I THOUGHT I was buying chicken nuggets. Instead I picked up a pack of chicken cutlets shaped like dinosaurs. How I have made that mistake is still a mystery, but really, who cares because it was really for the best.

As I was baking those cutlets, DS, who is currently in love with all things dinosaur and at that particular time very antsy in anticipation of eating a DINOSAUR, picked one frozen cutlet out of the bag and started playing with it. I had done something else I normally don't do - I let him play with food. He was very cute about it, but got bored after about 10 minutes or so. He came over to me and said, "Mommy, I don't want to play with him any more. I will put him on my plate. But I will not eat him because he's my friend." Yep, once you play with DS, you are pretty safe from being eaten. At least that night.

Well, it would be funny in itself if were the end, but... As DS and DD were settling down to eat the finally cooked cutlets (and DS repeatedly reassured that he wasn't eating his new friend), DD pretended to bite DS's dinosaur. DS took his cutlet, mumbled something about "tail booboo", kissed his dinosaur's tail "to make him feel better" and within seconds bit off dinosaur's head.

Well, as long as it wasn't his friend, right?

To brie or not to brie - Update

I know, you folks couldn't sleep at night without knowing what happened to my brie. Hence I present you with this update.

As of the time of this post, I still have a square inch of brie left in my refrigerator. No, I did not enjoy it in the least, but I have a thing about throwing out food. Brought up by grandmother who had survived an artificial famine in 1930s and the World War II, I simply cannot throw out food that is at least somewhat edible. To be eligible for trash can, food has to be unquestionably poisonous, resembling science experiment, covered in fungus - or preferably all of the above. (Before I scare off some potential guests and such, 1) I do not serve or consume food that hasn't quite reached this awful state; I patiently wait for its inevitable demise. I know, I should just toss it once it becomes questionable, but it's a psychological issue over which I have little control. 2)I do take poetic license.)

The problem with brie, though, is that it will never satisfy my strict requirements for being tossed because it already satisfies them. I know, confusing, but bear with me. As far as I am concerned, brie in its fresh state already resembles a food experiment gone terribly wrong, tastes poisonous (and unlike Windex doesn't have a warning or a Poison Control phone number printed on the back). And, unquestionably, it has already grown fungus, which Google advises us not to cut off. The only way to get the darned brie out of my refrigerator was to eat it.

So I did. And did not acquire that elusive taste for it in the process.

To brie or not to brie

For some time I have been passing by fancy cheeses that all of a sudden appeared in our local kosher supermarket thinking that I should give them a try. I am fairly adventurous when it comes to food; as long as it's kosher I'll give it a try. Unless it has carrots in it. Or sweet potatoes. Or it's waaay too spicy. On the second thought, I guess I am not that adventurous. But for someone who grew up on meat and potatoes diet, I have come pretty far (read: tofu).

But back to cheeses. A few years back SubHub and I have been talked into buying some blue fancy cheese by the store owner. Once we came home and unpacked our precious (very, very precious might I add) cheese, we ended up both looking at each other and wondering whether we have to eat THAT or eat around it. On the second look, there was not eating around IT. We both concluded that if we had an ear infection, pneumonia, syphilis or any other ailment requiring penicillin, we would be immediately cured upon tasting that cheese. We both bravely took a bite, both spit up in unison and swore off trying food that had the word "blue" in it.

Fast forward a few years, and my adventurous spirit was taking the better of me once again. These fancy cheeses, inconspicuously thrown in between mozzarella and a strange concoction commonly known as American cheese (an oxymoron, really), were calling my name. A few times I reached for them, but the price tag stopped me. Eventually I remembered that upon my untimely (it always is, isn't it?) demise I would be held accountable for every permitted food I could, but haven't tried. Could I possibly go to hell over not trying some stinky cheese? I couldn't think of any other reason that would cause this unfortunate turn of events, and I was not going to let this happen. Next time as I was passing by the cheese section, I decided that while paying kids' tuition is a noble ideal, it is definitely not noble enough to miss out on the wonders of heaven. So I took the plunge and bought brie.

I couldn't wait to open it and give it a try. Once the kids were asleep and the house in reasonable order, I opened the brie. Upon inspecting it and not finding anything blue, I noticed that it had rind. I immediately called my parents for advice and was given their standard response, "Google it." While I was searching for the answer, Mom said that they were told to eat the rind. She eats it, but Dad refuses to. Finally Google confirmed that Mom was right, I hung up, cut myself a wedge and took a bite.

What came next cannot be described in any words normally associated with food. I can assure you that I have never participated in urinotherapy. Nevertheless, I felt absolutely certain that what I had just eaten tasted and smelled like very concentrated urine. Or maybe Windex, mixed with urine. The mushroomy goodness promised company's website was neither mushroomy nor good. The released ammonia was so strong that I felt as if I was punched with it in my nose.

"It's an acquired taste," said Mom. I am persistent, so I tried again and again, with and without rind. The feeling that I was eating urine did not go away with subsequent consumption of rind-surrounded cheese. Without rind, brie tasted like bad cream cheese. SubHub wisely refused to even try.

But I do not give up. Next week, Camembert!

Today is SubHistory's Mysteries

Mystery #1.

I just looked over my blog and realized that I have misspelled the title of my previous entry. It was supposed to be "it" not "I". But even spelled correctly, the title still made little sense. What I really meant was ,"She could've been so much worse", but something tells me that even that is not very right, so I am leaving things as they are. Let the title remain a mystery of some sort.

Mystery #2.

When DD still wore size 2 diapers, our pediatrician recommended Triple Paste diaper ointment. We followed with the recommendation and bought a 1 pound jar, which lasted throughout DS's diaper years and was finally finished last week. A few weeks ago, anticipating the ultimate demise of the jar that lasted 4+ years, I bought another one in Target. The jar was exactly the same, and the price, though still rather steep, didn't change since our last purchase. Upon closer examination though, I found that the jar war marked as a 10 oz, not 1 pound. Here's what I find fascinating: the jars are identical and the 10 oz jar is filled to the top and not half empty as I have expected. I was so intrigued, I went on company's website only to find out that they don't manufacture 10 oz jars, only 8 oz and 1 pound. So is Target selling counterfeit butt cream?

Mystery #3.

I am still on Weight Watchers. (How I haven't stopped is a mystery on in itself.) After starving for a week, I lost 3 pounds, only to regain 2 pounds a day of starvation later. How, I ask you, how???? On the other hand, after allowing myself to "live" on Shavuos, cheesecake and all, I only gained a pound. I guess stuffing myself pays off better than starving. And so much more enjoyable!

On that note I am off to solve yet another mystery: is there any leftover cheesecake?

On importance of being able to count

This is a public service announcement brought to you be a very hungry SubWife. Not being able to count can lead to starvation.

Ever since I came back to work, I started Weight Watchers. I was miserable any way, so why not? Those unfamiliar with the program - 1) eat a sandwich and gain some weight like the rest of the country, 2) all food on Weight Watchers is translated into points, which take into account calories, fiber and fat content of the given food, and each dieter is allowed a certain amount of points per day.

Last night after coming home from work, I was very, very hungry. So hungry I couldn't wait for dinner to be ready, so I made myself scrambled eggs. Together with a dinner roll, that meal was about 10 points. So I subtracted 10 from 29.5 points I had left, and came up with 9.5 points. It seemed a bit low, but hey, it's a diet, you are supposed to starve. To say that I was starving last night is a huge understatement.Long story short, I lost 10 points worth of food for no good reason, other than another psychotic moment involving math, and only discovered the loss this morning. In my boss's office. And made her aware of the tragic loss of yesterday. Repeatedly. Despite important matters that were discussed.

I can feel my promotion is coming any minute now. And by promotion I mean a coupon to a local pizza shop.

How I wish you were there or In the heat of the night - Part II

I was told by a fellow blogger, who shall remain unnamed, that there could be apricot ice cream in Tovelli's on Ave. M. As a chance would have it, I actually was on Ave. M today and made a small detour walked 35 minutes from my house with a stroller to Tovelli's.

Let me tell you this, Tovelli is no more. And not because I single-handedly took their establishment apart after discovering that they do NOT carry apricot ice cream or frozen yogurt or sorbet. In fact they do not carry anything apricot flavored. The thing is Tovelli went out of business and whoever took over carry only Klein's ice cream. They have some interesting flavors, but not apricot. Antisemites!

Yet I am not giving up hope! Give me apricot ice cream or give me... well, any other flavor will do, I guess.

In the heat of the night

Wish to congratulate everyone on the start of the air conditioning and consequently high electricity bills season! Those who were complaining about an unusually long cold weather got their wish, bleh! No more baking, farewell to home made cakes and pizza, roasted potatoes and peppers, baked fish and chicken. On the other hand, welcome unapologetic consumption of ice cream!

Which reminds me, last night a had a huuuuge craving for apricot ice cream. I could not remember for the life of me when and where on earth I have had apricot ice cream/frozen yogurt or was it just a figment of my imagination and I never actually had it? Hmm... If any one of you has any idea where I could get one, please drop a comment. (Could it have beeb one of those Israeli five-flavored tubs? Anyone? I am stuck at home and can't check out my theory.) The craving is gone, but the mystery of where I had or hadn't this flavor of ice cream is still bothering me.

The Mysterious Affair in Brooklyn

This post will make the most sense to local kosher Brooklynites. Did you notice that about a month ago whole chickens - that previously were sold with all limbs attached - are now missing at least one wing and sometimes both? First I thought it was the Mountain Fruit schtick, but now that I have started shopping in Moisha's, I have noticed the same thing! Not that I miss them or anything because kosher chicken wings look like that have been on aggressive Rogaine therapy and are pretty much inedible unless you want to spend an hour plucking them. But I am curious nevertheless...

What's going on? Did they start purchasing their chickens from the abused bird shelters? (Just imagine that from the chickens' perspective. There you are at the shelter thinking that you are finally being rescued only to be slaughtered after they fatten you up. Unimaginable cruelty, I say. Unless, of course, these birds died of natural causes. - I'm going to pause for a minute and gag.)

Or did the chicken wings became the choice of poultry among the rich and famous and all of a sudden saw a sudden increase in demand? Or maybe they are using them to feed/torture political prisoners/war criminals and Madoff?

Here's another theory, maybe our patriotic kosher chickens are cutting off their wings to protest all the bailouts, stimulus packages and current economic situation? Or maybe their wings are falling off due to a lack of preventive care because chickens do not have universal health coverage?

Does anyone know what's going on?

P.S. For those who are not very familiar with the laws of kashrut, animals who were sick at the time of the slaughter or died of natural causes are not kosher by default. I was just trying to be funny, that's all.

We're simply the best

Like I said earlier, I read all instructions, manuals and labels, especially when bored. Sometimes it brings unexpected findings. Here's what I read this past Saturday while waiting for tea to brew. (I substituted with caps the name of the company and product to build up suspense.)

"Now you can enjoy a refreshing, naturally produced PRODUCT with traditional great taste.

For over four decades, OUR COMPANY has been combining the highest standards of quality and the finest ingredients (please note the plural, it will become important later on). Each bottle is supervised from beginning to end...

By serving OUR PRODUCT to your family and guests, you're making a statement. You're saying that you serve only the best and you accept nothing less."

And now for the conclusion. What is this great product that shows your friends and family how much you care if you serve it (and how much you don't care if you serve something else)? It's seltzer. Plain seltzer. And the main and only ingredient: carbonated filtered water.

Apparently, we've been drinking the finest, the most supervised and the most traditionally tasting water on earth without even knowing it. Mmm, mmm, good...