When I feel a little heavy I have a tried and tested recipe for losing a few pounds. It’s nothing new, just cutting back on carbs and bumping up the fruit and salad. In our family, dinner is sacred so I have always saved myself for dinner. That means I get desperately hungry in the later afternoon but I hang on. It’s quite hard work but it’s especially hard work in Italy where pasta and pizza are constantly available along with wonderful breads and cakes from my local bakery.
I look around me at my Italian neighbours and there is no big weight problem going on here. There is less obesity than there is at home in Britain and that goes for children and adults. The shops still close (out of season) for four hours at lunch time and I guess that many Italians are still going home to eat pasta. Likewise many of my neighbours breakfast in the local bar with a delicious cappuccino and a croissant or little cake. I wondered how this was possible when I eat so little and put on a pound at the drop of a hat. Why isn’t that happening to them? I don’t know but when I’d been here a few weeks I thought I’d give it a try.
Usually a croissant is a treat for a weekend so it was counterintuitive ( and wonderful) to have carbs for breakfast – in the name of science I forced myself! I went to the bakers about eight when everything was fresh and chose my pastry. A few hours later I cooked pasta for lunch and I had a small glass of wine too. It felt like a holiday. For supper I have been sticking to fish or meat and vegetables (and more wine) with maybe a mouthful of bread or a small pudding but more often fruit and a mouthful of cheese. It is an absolute treat to have all this wonderful food.
Newsflash! Within a couple of days I lost the remaining two pounds that were troubling me and after two weeks of my new regime my weight is constant at the place I prefer it to be. But also I am never hungry. I am never desperate for food or a drink in the evening. It feels really balanced. I am also sleeping better and my digestion is great.
It’s not about bingeing. Just one croissant or a couple of pieces of toast with some fruit is easy for breakfast if you know there is a decent lunch coming. After that I am full all day and ready for a proper dinner. I have not been controlling the olive oil either because it is so good for me and also brings out nutrients in fruit and vegetables which are not accessible without it.
The more I hear about nutrition the more it seems it is a matter of balancing many unknown factors as well as some we know about. It obviously varies from individual to individual and also from season to season and from one age to another. I’m sharing with you what is working for me right now because I was really surprised how well it worked. If you are tied up with a low-carb diet in an effort to maintain your ideal weight you might want to try it too. At least experiment – I have had to let go of many ideas I had and it has been well worth it. It feels really kind and in tune with my body and has reduced the stress of choosing what to eat by one hundred per cent. Recommend.
Not a good time to start delving into traditional classic French cookery when you’re up to your eyes in a war over mince pies. (Buy? make? make from scratch? use bought pastry? Me and my super ego are having a head to head over this.) Thing is I found I hadn’t yet got to grips with Julia Child’s cookbooks that I was given last Christmas and shame overwhelmed me. More presents coming my way any day now and I haven’t … oh you know. Fill in the gaps. So I read her autobiography in the Autumn and now I am delightfully sucked into the two volume Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Julia Child, an American living in France just after the war made it her life’s work to translate into a working English-language cookbook all she learned at the Cordon Bleu school and much more besides. Here are the master recipes for the whole of French cuisine and if you feel like it you can still see her demonstrate on Youtube.
I started simple. I was certain that using these books, bursting with French culinary wisdom of centuries, I could learn to cook poached eggs which I adore. I have wasted the labours of countless hens by failing to cook them well and I was sure, this time it would be different! With Julia’s help I failed once more but in a time-consuming way. Brilliant. And still not a mince pie in sight and it’s the 20th December. I mean, come on! But nil desperandum . I am now in the grip of French cuisine and I moved on to Julia’s matchless instructions for a remoulade of celeriac in an eye-watering mustard sauce-cum-mayonnaise – one of my favourite dishes as a student in Paris when it often constituted dinner along with a stick of French bread. It was staggeringly satisfying.
But we’re not done yet. Tonight Julia really comes into her own : an absolute triumph of a Blanc de Poulet. Well it’s chicken in a white sauce to you and me but if you do it properly I can tell you every pan and spoon in the kitchen is employed; the tiny onions added at the end are poached in their own special stock with their own bouquet garni for heaven’s sake. Vermouth, cream, egg yolks and a decent slug of Cognac are also in the frame. And by gosh what a difference they make! As food has improved beyond measure in England and France has suffered from the spread of universal cuisine the gap between them has shrunk. I had in fact forgotten what France used to taste like and now here it is nestling in a big casserole waiting for me to arrange it on some rice (white rice, thank you, none of your self-flagellating will this ever cook brown) with a few slim whole carrots and maybe a little chard. It brings back to me early trips to France when the flavours and textures were such as simply did not exist back home.
Now I can’t eat like this every day with impunity so I shall soon be back on the fruit salad and white fish but it is fun to read recipes that have no shortcuts, no alternative ingredients, just clear and imperious instructions. Salad dressing? Don’t even think about shaking stuff in a jar a la Jamie, get out your special sized whisk and beat the oil into the vinegar, lemon juice, salt and mustard one drop at a time. It actually makes an entirely different fluid, a true emulsion that coats each leaf as a dressing should.
If you don’t feel like cooking you can always watch the peerless Meryl Streep playing Julia in the film Julie and Julia. Or maybe, unlike me, you can poach yourself an egg.
People who come to psychotherapy largely fall into two groups. They are people in crisis who have finally decided that some outside help would not go amiss or they are people who are interested in growth and discovering more about themselves. People in crisis are, of course, much easier to help because things can only get better for them. This is where listening really is the most helpful thing to do. Just being there and giving permission whilst they let the confusion or the grief or the rage pour out seems to make a difference. Eventually we both come up for air and see what the world looks like now.
Sometimes, once people are over the worst they begin to get interested in the process itself, just like the second group. Then it all gets more complicated. So often these are great people, fascinating people, intelligent and kind people and all they need to do is relax and enjoy being themselves and that is just what they are unable to do. The urge to improve oneself, to make the planet a better place tends to get in the way. What is more it can lead to all kinds of plans for improving others too. Often my work with them is all about killing the urge to improve. Lie down until it passes, is my advice.
When I first went into therapy myself I was diagnosed as a picture-straightener and that was pretty fair comment at the time. My eye goes straight to the place where a little tweak would make everything just that bit tidier and boy, is that an unrestful experience. Today I have learned to relax a little and I have stumbled upon a simple truth. Our work here on earth is to love what is at a very deep level. Love is the medium of change and the more we can surround ourselves with it, the more a natural unfolding can happen. This is a million miles away from that mean little voice which criticises us and tells us we should be in the gym when we’re walking on the beach or on the beach when we’re in the gym. (Have you noticed it is literally never content with us?)
The Buddhists talk about ‘accepting what is’ and ‘gratitude’ is also a big seller but for me, even acceptance and gratitude come with a big, unattractive ‘should’ attached. Immediately I feel negative and ungrateful. Loving what is feels different and more possible. Let’s be clear, it doesn’t mean we have to like what is. Loving life is a very different ball-game from liking the details. When we think about eating more healthily or reading more or taking up swimming or volunteering with sick animals, we can do it from a place of love or we can do it from a place of ‘trying to be a better person’. I bring you a shocking thought which will change your life today. What if you don’t need to be a better person? What if you’re fine just as you are?
The sunshine breakfast in the picture is a shining example of how easy it is to love things. You can make a smiley face with yours. You can arrange your fruit on porridge or you can stew it and eat it with ice-cream and biscuits. IT’S ALL GOOD. You can do it your way and won’t that be great?
We’re deeply sad to report this – Le Guin influenced us dearly.
via Ursula Le Guin has died – we’ve lost our very best — By Her Hand
As so often, I owe what I know of Ursula Le Guin to a dear client who introduced me, perhaps on our first meeting, to the key ideas in
The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas
from The Wind’s Twelve Quarters: Short Stories
Omelas is a near-utopia which rests on a dark secret. An innocent child tethered and neglected in an underground prison is posited as the requirement for the good lives of the good citizens above. It struck a chord with me as an illustration of a psychological deal we may do with ourselves and one which brings untold suffering. I believe that the work of the therapist is in part to break this internal pact whereby we keep ‘the bad stuff’ locked up in order to have access only to the good. As an individual and also as an individual within a society I do not believe in this. It’s not just that there is cruelty in this approach to our inner landscape. It is a cruel approach that does not achieve its objective. I say it often and I’ll say it here again today : the bad stuff needs to be loved and thus transformed, not excommunicated, shamed or hidden and we need to start by doing that work internally. I don’t know what Le Guin thought about this (others probably do) but her mesmerising story powerfully illustrates the problem of how to live a good life in an imperfect world.
Put it in the oven and forget to take out the plastic giblet bag. 2. Deep fry it and set the garage on fire. 3. Put it in a flimsy aluminum pan from the grocery store and dump the whole thing on the floor (In which Shane faffs around with the turkey and doesn’t get […]
via 14 Ways to Cook a Turkey* — Suebob’s Red Stapler
I hope this gets you the Christmas spirit as it has done me. Brilliant! Thank you Suebob.