Eating Well DOES Serve Us Well

I just updated my website with a Client Testimonial on the "About Us" page. You can read it here:

http://itinerantcook.vpweb.com/About-Us.html


I also recently used myself as a guinea pig in a pseudo-scientific study I did on blood pressure. I won't get into details here, seeing as how an experimental group of one with a control group of zero hardly constitutes good science worthy of publication, but suffice it to say that my experiment leads me to believe that diet does play some role in the regulation of one's blood pressure.

Simplistic as it sounds, we all need a little reminder sometimes that eating well does serve us well in our lives beyond the dinner table. Sometimes the benefits of eating well are not instantaneous...sometimes they are not as dramatic as we'd like them to be...but the benefits are very definitely there.

Just ask my client as he breezes over the finish line of the Ironman race!

How We Understand the Universe

Sometimes, after work, if I am near some good terrain, I will hike before I return home. I hiked today. As a lifelong Greater Clevelander, I have become intimately familiar with some of this terrain. I know my hiking grounds very well and I love the majestic beauty of my little woodlands, even as they barely endure as the suburban sprawl encroaches---indeed, my woodlands are like a dollhouse version of their original selves---little miniaturized wildernesses. But I love them so.

And on so much of my favorite terrain, that I have hiked week in and week out, through all kinds of weather, I have never encountered another human being. I see plenty of animal friends to be sure, but no sign of humanity. I quite like the solitude. So much so, I have indulged in the luxury of thinking of some of these trails as at least as forgotten by time, at most as my very own.

But these trails, however well-hidden and infrequently used, are not mine alone. Today, I encountered a string of Tibetan prayer flags strung across the footpath of one of "my" secret places. Certainly, I can't go on thinking that I am alone in "my" wilderness.

And I was conflicted about this encounter.

On one hand, though mi esposo will teasingly point out that I am just a white girl from the suburbs, I sometimes feel like I have the heart of an Indian. In the Native American tradition, I don't want to meddle too much with the natural benevolence of the landscape that gives life to so many creatures, myself included. With that in mind, stringing up prayer flags looks too civilized to me...a sort of visual pollution akin to the flashing, scrolling marquees of Times Square.

On the other hand, I have a strong suspicion that the individual who strung these flags reveres the landscape as much as I do, and believes that the fluttering colors carry a blessing that settles into the surroundings. I think it might be their version of a thanksgiving.

We all understand the universe a little bit differently.

On another note, but in the same vein, I am baking potatoes for dinner and allowing each diner to individualize their 'tater. There will be plenty of steamed broccoli, good smoked cheddar, wholesome butter, Greek yogurt or sour cream, herbs, hot sauce, and more. When I tell mi esposo that we are having a vegetarian dinner, I see his face grow long. When I tell him he gets to build his own "Wendy's" potato (ah, Wendy! You gentle doyenne of fast food!), he lights up. He likes Wendy's potatoes.

We all understand the universe a little bit differently.

Really Bad Travel Meals

Almost daily, I flip through food and leisure magazines upon whose pages are sumptuously-lit photographs of perfectly-cooked food...."Here is the baccala we enjoyed at an out-of-the-way cafe in Venice as we watched the serene gondolas float by," or "Nobody does barbeque like the mountain folk of North Carolina and nobody enjoys better views" or even, "The simple salsa fresca, as made by the capable hands of the Senora with her local bounty, is elevated to pure manna in her sunny Mexican paradise."

Every meal is brilliant and every vacation is perfect for these writers.

Are they just unapologetic liars? Or...what am I doing wrong? I love food and I love to try new things when I travel, but I just don't seem to have their good luck. My travel meals, I am sorry to report, are generally not the transcendent experiences the magazine folks seem to have. Maybe I'm too picky. Maybe I'm not paid to write good reviews. Maybe, and most probably, I don't mind a misadventure or two so I hold on to the "bad" travel food memories because I find more than a little humor in them.

Some choice memories include the plate of "wets" (gravy-soaked french fries) I enjoyed at a Lower East Side diner in New York. They were delicious, but shortly thereafter sent me doubled over to a corner bodega where I was willing to pay any price for the last bottle of Pepto Bismol on the shelf. I ate an authentic Irish meal in a small-town family restaurant outside of Dublin that included a flaccid piece of poached fish surrounded by potatoes...3 whopping servings of them cooked 3 different ways. Although stupefied, I had the presence of mind to photograph this meal and have retained the snapshot to this day. I would gladly scan it in to share with you here if I only knew how to operate my slumbering esposo's scanner-contraption. In the days before the Starbuck's craze had gone global, I remember wandering the streets of London absolutely bitter that they were all in such a jolly-good hurry to get me a cup of tea while all I wanted was a decent cup of coffee, which was NOWHERE to be found. Sheer necessity forced me to warm up a "Hungry Man" frozen dinner on a wood stove in Hawaii, which I chased with a nearly non-potable glass of "Volcano Wine" (there is a reason our 50th state is not renowned for their fine vintages). Sheer necessity also forced me to eat half-cooked potatoes over a fire on a camping trip in the middle of nowhere. I will not burden you with the results, but dear reader, if you don't already know, please take warning that potatoes, like poultry, should only ever be eaten after being thoroughly cooked...in these instances, "rare" does not get it. I've had gritty lettuce in salads, plastic-y cheese on my "elegant" appetizer, partially frozen desserts they've tried to pawn off as freshly-baked, and on and on, all over creation.

I'm not angry, or complaining, I think I have retained these memories even more clearly than the really terrific meals because it is a little bit funny and it is a whole lot grounding. Really, who do I think I am? I am not a food critic. I am not a celebrity or political figure. I am not close, personal friends with a cadre of brilliant chefs worldwide. I am a regular gal who has been lucky enough to get out of town a time or two and even luckier to find sustenance to keep me going on to the next adventure. Some of that sustenance offered little more than a few kilocalories to keep me fueled until I could reach better offerings. I may appreciate finer food, but who do I think I am to ask for much more?

That being said, I hope I can gush to you, food-and-leisure-magazine-style, when I stumble on that perfect baccala in Venice, the quintessential barbeque in North Carolina, and the transcendent salsa fresca in Mexico.

In the meantime, do enjoy that bag of nuts at the corner gas station because it really may be the best thing in town!