I’m trying to avoid sugar these days. Not going paleo or low-carb, I’m eating fruit and occasional yogurt and, OK, dessert if someone sticks a piece of cake under my nose. But I’m trying to hold the line on the winter pudge that inevitably piles up this time of year, and it seemed the easiest way.
I had to stop working out as often as I had been when I blew out my knee, and the good news is? Haven’t gained back any of the 15 I lost over the summer. Yay, me. Twenty to go.
However: GOD, SUGAR IS WONDERFUL AND I MISS IT SO. I come from a long line of Germans, and we love our pastry and whipped cream and pie and ice cream and yes, even cheap-ass cookies like Oreos and the ones made by Keebler elves and especially those sold by Girl Scouts. I bought some Meyer lemons the other day. Normal people do that and think about cocktails and salad dressings. I thought of a Meyer lemon cake in one of my Chez Panisse cookbooks, and it took all my willpower not to make one.
Although I might this weekend.
How do people not get a sweet tooth? And once they have one, how do they let it go? I’ve heard people say it takes anywhere from a couple-three days to six weeks to stop craving sugar at the end of every meal, but all I can say is, it ain’t easy. I pour myself a big glass of water for dessert. I drink a cup of coffee. I leave the kitchen. And if I wait long enough, the protein of the meal works its way into my bloodstream and I stop thinking two little squares of dark chocolate would really hit the spot. But it takes a while.
Some people say, “I don’t crave sweets, but I just love bacon.” I love that, too. Bacon is sugar-cured, you know, most of it, anyway. Even if it weren’t, I reject the either-or nature of being either a fat or a sweets person. The two complement one another — whipped cream is sweetened fat, cake is sweetened fat, and sugar alone is sort of gross. As the kids say, it’s all love.
Don’t give me that crap about flour being sugar, too. It’s a carbohydrate, but unless it has raspberry jam slathered on it, it doesn’t hit the spot.
I’m not sorry. I’m just bereft.
It’s winter, hibernation season. All I want to do is eat a big piece of pie — maybe two — and crawl into bed with a couple good books. There to read and doze and let visions of sugarplums dance in my head.
So. A few words about sugar at midweek.
A little bloggage?
Guess who’s going to be in Chrysler’s Super Bowl ad? Bob Dylan.
Speaking of sugar, it’s the Uncle Sugar bounce!
And now I’m done. Good Thursday, all.