Snapshots from the Week

A record of every mouthful

                                                                                

Armed with a whole lot of resolve--waistbands had gotten really tight and uncomfortable--I started a diet on January 1. I got out my beat-up guide to Weight Watcher's points, given to me by a friend years ago, and started writing down everything I eat.   It's tedious.

I've lost 15 pounds on this diet several times, but it's not working so well now.  The scale is pretty inhospitable (I'm using The Bastard in Jerry's bathroom). 

I've decided to adopt some of the South Beach Diet rules: no potatoes, for example. We'll see. 
                                                           

                                                                                    2.

 Leah,  my adorable 21-year-old friend  from next door, left on Monday for Boston, where she'll finish up her senior year at Tufts.  Boohoo.   

She and I had a farewell lunch at Cesar's in North Berkeley, and then we went to Earthly Goods, where she advised me on buying a pair of (very) tight jeans.  That's when I still had hope for the diet.

After that, we staggered into Peet's, where she had a latte and I stared at the wall rather than order a drink I'd want cream in.  The next time I see her will be at her graduation in May.

                                                                                    3.

I saw an ad for this book in the New York Times Book Review and in a moment of madness ordered it from Amazon.  It's a well-written account of what happened to various people in the World Trade Center between the time the first jet hit Tower 1 and 102 minutes later when both buildings collapsed.

I got only a quarter of the way through and had to abandon it.  My sleep went to hell all over again, back the pattern I've been working to change since October, bad insomnia.

I think I had an idea that reading it would somehow honor those who died. 

                                                                                    4.

After this week's Big Relief Trip to the Doctor, Jerry is all  for booking the river cruise from Paris to Normandy, even though the lawyer we consulted about our living trust this week  made us feel like we're living on a shoestring.  She was very nice, but I think she's used to people with big bucks.   We slunk out of there.

Does anyone think 154 square feet is kind of small for a stateroom?  That's the only size offered on the boat we'd take. Jerry asked worriedly if it had a bed.

                                                                                     5.

 I've been studying recipes I like to see if they'll work with this half-breed diet I'm on.  This one works, and it's easy.  Judy Hanlon originally pointed it out to me in David Lebovitz's memoir on food, The Sweet Life in Paris.  I've changed it a bit, mostly by leaving out butter and dried apricots (feel free).

Chicken Tagine

1 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp ground turmeric
1 tsp smoky paprika
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp salt
1-1/2 T olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
4 boneless/skinless chicken breasts
2 cups chicken stock
1/3 cup chopped fresh cilantro
1 T honey
Juice of 1/2 lemon

Preheat oven to 375.  Combine ginger, turmeric, paprika, cinnamon, salt, pepper.  Toss the chicken pieces in the spices.  Set aside.  Cook onion in olive oil over moderate heat, until translucent.  Add the chicken pieces and cook for 3 minutes, turning with tongs to release the spices.  Pour in stock, add cilantro, cover, and bake for 25 minutes (check to see if done).  Transfer chicken on a plate, cover tightly with foil.  Put the casserole on the stovetop, add honey and lemon juice, and reduce by one-third over medium high.  Return the chicken to the pot and reheat in the sauce.

This is delicious!  Goes for two nights around here, and I think next time I'll cook six chicken breasts and go for three!  Who cares if we get tired of it?  Serve over couscous or quinoa.

                                                                                   6.

I'm back to quilting,  and I'm working on a quilt to give to someone willing to make a donation to the  Berkeley Food Pantry.  It's just me and NPR in my studio these days.  I'm learning more than I ever wanted to know about Mali and Lance Armstrong.


                                                                                   7.

I recommend a documentary I got from Netflix, "Pink Ribbons, Inc."  It addresses the pink ribbon/breast cancer PR campaign, which seems to be everywhere and which critics call "the tyranny of cheerfulness," and an attempt to "prettify" breast cancer.

Contrary to the message of the Susan G. Komen Foundation, which preaches early detection as the magic bullet,  mammography has its limits.  Did you know that one-third of breast cancer patients will be cured, one-third will have treatment they don't really need, and the other third will have aggressive breast cancer that cannot be cured?  I held my head.

Also, corporations are cashing in big-time by sticking pink ribbons on products as a way to get people to buy.  And only 15% of the money raised goes to research on prevention.

Pink-suited Nancy Brinker, head of the Komen Foundation, has had a facelift so tight that I'm surprised she can speak.  She also favors a modified Snooki pouf.