Showing posts with label Chocolate. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chocolate. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Goodbye, my friend


Guess what I'm doing ........ You're right! Drinking a glass of wine. Cheers.

Guess what I'm not doing ...... Eating chocolate. Or any sugar. Like I said a couple of days ago, the booze fast was just the warm-up for the big test of willpower: giving up sugar for a month.

That means no more best friend chocolate, no more brown sugar in my oatmeal, no more honey in my tea ... this is starting to sound like a 70's pop song .... and no more cookies. No sugar at all, unless it comes in the form of whole fruit.

I joke about my love of wine, but that's really just a cover for my real addiction. My love affair with chocolate is an epic consumption poem that must at last come to an end.

In preparation, over the past 4 days, I went on a chocolate binge that would put Willy Wonka out of business. I would be embarrassed to list here how much chocolate I ate, but let's just say it involved a bag of Dove coconut-filled eggs, 2 caramel Cadbury's, a Mounds bar, a Heath bar, a bag of licorice twists, an orange and a sea salt dark chocolate Lindt bar, an organic dark chocolate coconut bar, and a tiny container of Cherry Garcia. For once, I let myself eat as much as I wanted. I didn't have much left to throw away this morning. Roll me into the river, Willy.

Notice I didn't start my chocolate fast on the first day of March. I intended to, but when I told my daughter Elvira she expressed deep concern for both my mental health and my inflated sense of hedonism. She said, "Mommers, why would you do that to yourself? You're not even allowing one day in between so you can drink that first glass of wine since January with a bar of dark chocolate? Are you suicidal?"

Of course, I had to admit she made a reasonable argument, so, much like a convict on death row, I enjoyed my cold glass of Chardonnay with some high-percentage dark chocolate last night before midnight.  And then I said good-bye to the one thing that keeps me sane most days.

My son Drake, who was bitter because his sister had said something wise, admonished me and said, "Mom, you know there's sugar in wine." I stared him down and said, "Drake, I'm giving up sugar and chocolate, but I'm not going crazy and giving up all carbs. Whatever sugar is in wine has turned into wine. I will not give wine up along with chocolate, and I suspect none of you want me to do that either."

I did hop up on the low-carb bandwagon about 10 years ago. I had been a vegetarian for 9 years, but I started eating meat, cut most of the carbs out of my diet, and worked out several times a week at the gym. I lost a shit ton of weight and I felt fantastic. Strong. Sexy. Full of energy. Daring. I confess I flirted heavily with my little eating disorder for a few months, but I didn't fully succumb. It was the one time in my life I told my poor body image to go fuck itself. It was lovely.

Then the news about how healthy dark chocolate is came out, and I decided I could surely handle one Dove dark chocolate a day. I would take it like medicine. One piece a day and no more. Turns out that was like a chronic alcoholic deciding he could handle one shot of vodka a day. Not sustainable. My addiction is such that it wouldn't be satisfied with an entire bag of Dove darks a day. No hyperbole.

I've made it through one day, which I know is the easy part. Tomorrow the cravings will hit, and the irritability.

I know I'm doing the right thing though. You see, I received a sign. A big, fucking, neon-blinking sign from the universe. Last week I ran out of chocolate. I'd even eaten all of the frozen chocolate chips. And I wasn't feeling well, and the sky was dumping a bunch of snow on us or the temperatures were below zero or some shit. I didn't want to go out, and even if I did, I refuse to placate my addiction by walking half a block and across the street to Big Daddy's to buy chocolate. I have boundaries.

And then I remembered I wasn't really out of chocolate. I had some baking chocolate that was probably several years old, but there was a box of semi-sweet there. Big, thick chunks of chocolate that's supposed to be melted and remade into something else. I let one sit out for about 5 minutes to thaw, and then I took it into the living room to enjoy while I watched my secondary addiction, Netflix. About the third bite into it, I felt something crunch. And I realized I'd broken the front half off an expensive crown on one of my front teeth -- a crown that is connected to 4 other crowns and can't be replaced without replacing all of them. I don't know yet what that moldy old piece of chocolate is going to cost me, but this time, it's not worth it. 

And it's not just my tooth. I've done enough research on sugar to believe it really is an addiction for me, and it's a poison. I don't want to be held hostage to it any more. I don't want to hate myself for my weakness, and I don't want to suffer physical repercussions either.

So, I'm off sugar for a month, and then probably a month after that. I think I can do it a month at a time. I am going to give myself a free day toward the end of the month when Elvira and my daughter-in-law Montana are celebrating birthdays. And if I do decide to continue next month, I'm going to take the first day of the month off for a gorge because .... wine and chocolate. Maybe I'll throw a party.

Otherwise, no simple sugars for this girl. Zero. I can't be trusted with sugar, and especially chocolate.

What's your addiction? How do you deal with it? Or do you?


Thursday, March 27, 2014

Sexy food

I'm lame tonight. I've been preparing to lead a writer's bootcamp tomorrow, and making hummus and paleo chocolate to take and share. I am otherwise brain dead and without inspiration. My muse Dolores ran off hours ago to drink bourbon and listen to the blues and tease married men who want her to have sex with their wives while they watch (more of that story later). I'm going to work her mythical ass off tomorrow at bootcamp, so she'd better have her fun while she can, and she'd better bring me some fucking stories.

Consequently, in lieu of my usual brilliant commentary on the state of the vagina, I am going to share recipes for hummus and paleo chocolate. And then I'm going to bed before 3:00 am in the morning for once.

Hummus

Dump into a food processor about 2 cups of chick peas (I cooked a bag of dried chick peas so I could make a shit ton of hummus, but you can just use a can), 3 tablespoons of tahini, 3 tablespoons of olive oil, 2 tablespoons of lemon juice, a mushed up clove of garlic, salt and pepper, and enough water to make it all smooth. And if you want your hummus to be even smoother than smooth, you can skin the chick peas. Yeah, I didn't think you'd want to do that either.

Whirrrr it around until it looks like hummus. Scrape it into a bowl. Dress it up with some olive oil and smoked paprika on top. Done.

Paleo Chocolate 
I didn't say it was pretty.

In a bowl, combine 1 cup of cocoa (I use a mixture of regular and dark), 1/2 cup of melted coconut oil, and 1/3 cup of honey. Spread the mixture on a piece of parchment paper (1/4" thick or so, but you decide), sprinkle on coarse sea salt (if you like your chocolate salted like I do), and put it in the freezer until it gets hard. Cut it up with a butcher knife and store it in the freezer ... if it lasts that long. Don't blame me if you become addicted. If anyone else lives with you, don't share it. Don't even let him or her or them know you made it. You'll thank me later.

On the other hand, this is some sexy chocolate because it has a low melt point. Which means, you can get messy with it. I'm not going to draw you a picture though, because I'm a nice girl. Use only with other consenting adults and report back to me in the morning.

Good night.


Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Just one box of Junior Mints, please

Photo taken at a local Kroger.

I was reaching for a box of Junior Mints the other day when I noticed the price underneath. New low price? I thought. Bonus! 

But wait. They've always been 10 for $10 before. They've raised the price, not lowered it. What the fuck, Kroger? Do you think I don't know the cost of my Junior Mints? 

Then I realized the sign only implies the price is lower. What the price sign really says is that they've changed the price, and they want me to believe it's still a low price.

It's a tricky world out there. Words matter.

I bought one box instead of 10. Better for my ass anyway.

(And aren't you glad your ass is behind you so you don't have to look down at it all the time? Imagine if your ass were in front. How disturbing is that idea?)



Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Wordless Wednesday: Dark chocolate sin

Don't be fooled by the clever package.





I'm going to save your life. You can thank me later.

The photo above is of the Devil. Yes, the devil. I have met and consumed him it so I can verify my own assertion.

Chicken Grrrl and I have a couple of gigs coming up, so we're settling into a regular practice schedule. Because in this case music pays and theater doesn't, theater is taking a back burner for a few months. I'm going to be spending a lot more time with Miss Gibson* than I have been the past year and a half or so.

It's all good though ..... except that Chicken Grrrl brought the Devil to our rehearsal tonight -- everything sweet, seductive, and evil all in one artful package. And we ate all of it.

It's too late for me, but you can still be saved. If you find yourself burdened with the Devil, please, for all that is holy, don't eat of this sin. Bring it to me, at my home or at my Foursquare check-in, anytime day or night ..... No, don't try to talk me out of it. I will take this sacrifice for you. I will put my very life on the line to make sure you don't find yourself enslaved to the Devil as I am. Bring it to me. I will consume it with a glass of chardonnay, every last salty dark crumb. And I will share with you the wine, because even I can't drink an entire box of wine.

It's the least I can do for mankind.

Seriously, Chicken Grrrl and I decided we will share one of these at every rehearsal. Thus we share the sacrifice so none of you must need to. By sharing this dark communion, neither of us will consume an entire bar at one sitting (at least not in someone else's presence). This is the least friends can do for each other.

This was supposed to be a Wordless Wednesday post, but I'm a writer and what the hell else do I have but words. And chocolate and caramel and salt. Sweet. Seductive. .... Don't let this be you. Bring the Devil to me.

Word.


* Miss Gibson is my favorite guitar, an LC1Cascade. I'll post a photo another time.