Making every carbohydrate count

FOOD FOR THOUGHT

Much more than a meal, dining at restaurants with an old friend who

visits from the East Coast resembles a bad comedy routine --

punctuated by playful under-the-table pokes and stifled groans hidden

behind the safety of a menu.

My pal, Judy, is not a clever wit who intentionally amuses her

table mates. She’s just exceedingly particular about what she eats.

All salad dressings and sauces go on the side, and wait persons are

summarily drilled about how her chosen source of protein is prepared.

Regardless of the menu offerings, she usually ends up with steamed

vegetables, salad with one-half lemon on the side and some variety of

grilled seafood.

On the other side of the table, I automatically order something

from the daily specialties, some intoxicatingly exotic choice I

haven’t tasted before. Dishes that incorporate an unusual mix of

ingredients -- no matter what they are -- are my favorites. Naked

salad and dry vegetables are not my idea of a night out -- I wouldn’t

even eat them at home. And I wouldn’t invite Judy over for dinner.

Judy is slim and petite and I’m not. My large frame lets me carry

around a few extra pounds, right? But as the jeans became harder to

close and buttons began to pop, the dreaded d-word began creeping

into conversations around the dinner table. Not ready to suffer

deprivation alone, I convinced my husband to join me on one of those

popular low-carb diets.

With pocket Carbohydrate Counter in hand, the next trip to the

market took a lot longer than usual. Food is to savor and enjoy, to

supply some bit of pleasure in a world that becomes increasingly hard

to control or predict. Thinking of it in terms of grams instead of

taste and texture required a leap of faith and a lot of creativity.

Pureed cauliflower, with a little heavy cream and sweet butter

quickly became a substitute for potatoes to accompany a thick juicy

steak. Chopped salads with hard Italian salami, grilled chicken, feta

cheese and thick homemade dressings would do for lunch. The half

bagel for breakfast wasn’t so bad, slathered with regular cream

cheese topped with sliced tomatoes and red onion.

Unfortunately, we weren’t able to stay on the diet long enough to

see any results.

Two days after the boxes of cereal, crackers and pasta were purged

from the cupboard, some bad news appeared. It now seems that my blood

pressure and cholesterol are reaching elevated levels, not dangerous

but higher than they should be. The good doctor was very gentle with

me. A life-long commitment to medication could be avoided if I was

willing to make a few changes and return for more testing. I knew

exactly what she meant before the words were spoken -- the dreaded

d-word and hours at the gym. Carbs were in and fats were out.

Images of Judy’s dinner plate flashed through my brain. Forget the

fact that she has a good figure and can out-walk any of us, look at

what she eats.

There goes the juicy steak, hollandaise on the asparagus and gooey

desserts. Forget the Sunday morning omelet stuffed with smoked ham

and Gruyere. Sure, now I can get my tuna fix between two slices of

bread, but that low-fat mayo just doesn’t taste the same.

This is going to be even harder than cutting the carbs.

Admittedly, my relationship with food does extend beyond the realm of

physical sustenance. But reducing a once-pleasurable experience to a

discussion of antioxidants, folic acid and omega-3 fatty acids seems

cruel.

I suspect I’m still in denial about all this, as I haven’t run to

the bookstore in search of the latest volume on the subject. However,

I did reach for my copy of The Mayo Clinic Williams-Sonoma Cookbook

that I must have purchased in a weak moment. It’s not a bad place to

start, if you’re into nonfat plain yogurt in your vegetable dips and

nonfat dry milk in your muffins. I don’t care how many fresh herbs go

into the salad, they’ll never replace the flavor of a decent amount

of good olive oil. And life without salt? Pleeze.

I’m beginning to feel like an aging alcoholic atoning for the sins

of a mis-spent youth.

But I did give up smoking and nothing could be harder than that.

Besides, I do know a thing or two about cooking and can create some

pretty interesting meals from refrigerator leftovers. I suspect it’s

time to quit complaining and consider this another culinary

challenge.

I’m a much better cook than Judy and should be able to eat well

without killing myself. However, the concept of “eating well” may

require a few adjustments.

* LILLIAN REITER is a Laguna Beach resident. A self-described

“shameless foodie,” she is currently co-authoring a cookbook. She can

be reached at ldreiter@cox.net or P.O. Box 248, Laguna Beach, CA

92652, or via fax at 494-8979.