On steak

“Are we having steak for dinner tonight?” The answer was “yes.” Sometimes I eat steak with a little salt and pepper, and I’m unapologetic about that–no ketchup though, then I would be apologetic. Sometimes I don’t eat steak, but I do hate tofu and can’t figure why anyone would eat it on purpose. The texture is otherworldly and the taste is disappointing, to say the least–it tastes like something dead. On the other hand, there is something which is creepily primitive,but totally satisfying, about eating the flesh of other animals. I think this may be one of my blind-spots, which is goofy, but I’m not sure. Raw oysters really blow my hair back. I like my steak rare, leaning to very rare, burned on the outside and ruby red on the inside, salty. As an omnivore, I like to eat a little bit of everything, although lately I’m for setting the chickens free since the modern industrial chicken tastes like chemicals and not chicken. I don’t eat chicken. Fish, I love fish–tuna, cod, walleye. I’ll eat the six ounce steak on the menu (or I’ll even cook it myself), but I would turn down almost anything larger than that. Digesting animal flesh is hard work, although the payoff if very high. You don’t want to have steak at every meal–the experience would get old really quickly. I like the cut to be either a T-bone or a ribeye. I like nice marbling and juicy meat. There is nothing like putting a nice big steak on the grill, well-seasoned, and sharing it with the other omnivores. I had a big, leafy, green salad last night, and I still feel a bit hungover from that. Oh, one might be a vegetarian, which is a more ethical position, certainly a more defensible one than killing animals for their meat, but I like to eat a little bit of everything.

On steak

“Are we having steak for dinner tonight?” The answer was “yes.” Sometimes I eat steak with a little salt and pepper, and I’m unapologetic about that–no ketchup though, then I would be apologetic. Sometimes I don’t eat steak, but I do hate tofu and can’t figure why anyone would eat it on purpose. The texture is otherworldly and the taste is disappointing, to say the least–it tastes like something dead. On the other hand, there is something which is creepily primitive,but totally satisfying, about eating the flesh of other animals. I think this may be one of my blind-spots, which is goofy, but I’m not sure. Raw oysters really blow my hair back. I like my steak rare, leaning to very rare, burned on the outside and ruby red on the inside, salty. As an omnivore, I like to eat a little bit of everything, although lately I’m for setting the chickens free since the modern industrial chicken tastes like chemicals and not chicken. I don’t eat chicken. Fish, I love fish–tuna, cod, walleye. I’ll eat the six ounce steak on the menu (or I’ll even cook it myself), but I would turn down almost anything larger than that. Digesting animal flesh is hard work, although the payoff if very high. You don’t want to have steak at every meal–the experience would get old really quickly. I like the cut to be either a T-bone or a ribeye. I like nice marbling and juicy meat. There is nothing like putting a nice big steak on the grill, well-seasoned, and sharing it with the other omnivores. I had a big, leafy, green salad last night, and I still feel a bit hungover from that. Oh, one might be a vegetarian, which is a more ethical position, certainly a more defensible one than killing animals for their meat, but I like to eat a little bit of everything.

On butter

What can one say about butter that is not self-serving rationalization for indulging in the richest food on the planet, except for the fat around a cow’s liver? I, for one, love butter, but I think that this is a relationship that is best left alone. Overindulgence in butter is the road to perdition in many ways–cholesterol, heart disease, obesity, hypertension. Yet, I won’t put oleo on my toast because using a petroleum product would be worse. You see, butter has that taste that just sucks you in and hypnotizes your taste buds and seduces your good judgement. You ever sauté garlic in butter? Maybe throw in a few over-sized shrimp, a pinch of hot red pepper and a quarter cup of white wine? You’d know if you had. Butter is a synecdoche for all of our overindulgence and overeating, and butter stands out as a symbol of our own success which may be our very undoing. In itself, there is nothing wrong with eating some butter. I’m from a dairy state, Minnesota, where the local denizens having been consuming dairy products for over a century and a half, and the only long-lasting result is extended life-spans. We have collectively stopped smoking, and although we still drink a bit and carry around an extra pound or two, we are pretty healthy in spite of the butter we consume. What would pancakes be without butter? What would chocolate frosting be without butter? Lumpy and tasteless. Take away their butter and people would stop making toast and life would cease to have meaning. Can you really eat lobster without a nice butter sauce to dip it in? Chicken fried in butter is much better than chicken fried in mystery oil. Yet butter gets a bad reputation because of all that juicy cholesterol. I often wonder if it might be less the cholesterol we consume and more our own inactivity which hurts us. So getting off the couch and into the wide open spaces is more important than skimping on the butter for our bagel.

On eating at home

Is there anything as healthy and as satisfying as eating at home your home-cooked meal? Well, some might answer with, “Yes, anything I don’t have to prepare myself.” Eating at home is work, but the plain truth of a home-cooked meal is that you eat better, you eat less, and you end up healthier. When we eat in restaurants we are frequently served too much food, and given our inherited parental ethics of cleaning our plates, we feel obliged to clean our plates, over-eating and ending up stuffed and uncomfortable. Don’t get me wrong, I love eating in restaurants–steaks, lobster, pasta, fish, burgers, chops, salads, fries, vegetarian lentil wraps–but unless one exercises a certain amount of restraint, you are going to overeat. Overeating is bad. We get too many carbs, too much fat, too much salt, too much caffeine, and that wouldn’t be a problem, but we like to over-consume–we secrete endorphins and other chemicals which reaffirm our bad eating habits. If you eat at home, not only will your portions be more reasonable, but you can push away from the table when you are full. You don’t have some nosy waiter trying to sell you some hyper-sugary dessert that you don’t need and shouldn’t eat. When you are in a group of people, say four or five others, you will also tend to overeat. If you eat at home, you will also save a lot of money. By going to the grocery store and buying your own food, you can control much more closely what it is you are eating–less sugar, less carbohydrates, less fat, less food in general. Eating at home has lots of benefits, not the least of which is eating real vegetables that aren’t so cooked that they resemble wet cardboard. Or fruit. When was the last time you had actual fruit in a restaurant and it completely resembled the fruit that came off of the tree? I’m sure a deep-fried onion with lots of spicy breading is a luscious thing to eat, but between the calories and the fat, no one needs to eat such a thing–unless you have one onion ring and stop there, but is that even possible given our overarching lack of self-control when it come to salt and fat delivery systems. It’s why no one can eat just one potato chip. By eating at home we spend less, eat less, and end up healthier in the long run. This is obvious, but one third of all adults are obese, and it’s mostly because they eat so poorly–too much of the wrong thing. Restaurants are so handy. All you have to do is walk in, and they plunk down an over-sized glass of sugary soda in front of you before you’ve even ordered your food. They give you too much pasta, too much steak, too many fries, too much of everything. The biggest problem with eating at home is that it is work to prepare food. To cook, one must have time and ingredients and the energy necessary to cook. Cooking is both skill and art, and one must invest a little time in learning how to cook–read a book, get lessons, plan, take time to do the work. And then, of course, you have to clean up. Eating at home is work, and the first rule of human beings is that they will always take the path of least resistance, the easiest way out. Going out to eat is easy. You just go to a place, you order food, they bring it, you eat it, you leave the mess on the table, and you walk out and go home with all the food you couldn’t eat on your first attempt. The “doggie-bag”, though practical, is a little weird–you end up bringing home the rest of the food that you shouldn’t eat in the first place. Between our lazy ways and the convenience of fast food and restaurants, we are slowly, but surely, killing ourselves because it’s just easier than eating at home.

On eating at home

Is there anything as healthy and as satisfying as eating at home your home-cooked meal? Well, some might answer with, “Yes, anything I don’t have to prepare myself.” Eating at home is work, but the plain truth of a home-cooked meal is that you eat better, you eat less, and you end up healthier. When we eat in restaurants we are frequently served too much food, and given our inherited parental ethics of cleaning our plates, we feel obliged to clean our plates, over-eating and ending up stuffed and uncomfortable. Don’t get me wrong, I love eating in restaurants–steaks, lobster, pasta, fish, burgers, chops, salads, fries, vegetarian lentil wraps–but unless one exercises a certain amount of restraint, you are going to overeat. Overeating is bad. We get too many carbs, too much fat, too much salt, too much caffeine, and that wouldn’t be a problem, but we like to over-consume–we secrete endorphins and other chemicals which reaffirm our bad eating habits. If you eat at home, not only will your portions be more reasonable, but you can push away from the table when you are full. You don’t have some nosy waiter trying to sell you some hyper-sugary dessert that you don’t need and shouldn’t eat. When you are in a group of people, say four or five others, you will also tend to overeat. If you eat at home, you will also save a lot of money. By going to the grocery store and buying your own food, you can control much more closely what it is you are eating–less sugar, less carbohydrates, less fat, less food in general. Eating at home has lots of benefits, not the least of which is eating real vegetables that aren’t so cooked that they resemble wet cardboard. Or fruit. When was the last time you had actual fruit in a restaurant and it completely resembled the fruit that came off of the tree? I’m sure a deep-fried onion with lots of spicy breading is a luscious thing to eat, but between the calories and the fat, no one needs to eat such a thing–unless you have one onion ring and stop there, but is that even possible given our overarching lack of self-control when it come to salt and fat delivery systems. It’s why no one can eat just one potato chip. By eating at home we spend less, eat less, and end up healthier in the long run. This is obvious, but one third of all adults are obese, and it’s mostly because they eat so poorly–too much of the wrong thing. Restaurants are so handy. All you have to do is walk in, and they plunk down an over-sized glass of sugary soda in front of you before you’ve even ordered your food. They give you too much pasta, too much steak, too many fries, too much of everything. The biggest problem with eating at home is that it is work to prepare food. To cook, one must have time and ingredients and the energy necessary to cook. Cooking is both skill and art, and one must invest a little time in learning how to cook–read a book, get lessons, plan, take time to do the work. And then, of course, you have to clean up. Eating at home is work, and the first rule of human beings is that they will always take the path of least resistance, the easiest way out. Going out to eat is easy. You just go to a place, you order food, they bring it, you eat it, you leave the mess on the table, and you walk out and go home with all the food you couldn’t eat on your first attempt. The “doggie-bag”, though practical, is a little weird–you end up bringing home the rest of the food that you shouldn’t eat in the first place. Between our lazy ways and the convenience of fast food and restaurants, we are slowly, but surely, killing ourselves because it’s just easier than eating at home.

On not snacking

I shouldn’t do it. I shouldn’t even write about it. I shouldn’t watch cooking shows. I shouldn’t own cookbooks, go to grocery stores, check ads in the paper, watch commercials on television, or fantasize about the next cake or pie I’m going to bake. I have enough food at the two meals a day that I eat. (Breakfast is a mess for me because one, I’m not hungry in the morning, and two, eggs make me sick, so no breakfast.) My metabolism has slowed over the last decade and every snack that I eat goes to live on my waste. The sad truth is that when I get the munchies, I just have to endure otherwise I would be the size of the Goodyear blimp. Snacks are not, in and of themselves, evil, it is only snackers, those partaking of snacks who are evil or who have evil in their hearts. Whether it is pizza or cookies, cereal or chocolate cake, snacks are everywhere in our society, and at least three-quarters of the fast food industry is based on snacks–burgers, chicken, tacos, pasta, ribs, pizza–not a stand-up square meal. Fast food joints may offer salads and fruit, a fish sandwich, vegan dishes and the like, but people, most people, go for the snack food. What is so sinister about snacks is that they are, by their very nature, temptation unleashed. Juicy, salty, fatty, sweet, they appeal to our basest desires to sate our darkest desires even when we have no need–none whatsoever. We are, for the most part, a well-fed society. A good majority of us have more than enough food every day. The fact that our food supply is so overwhelmingly prevalent and accessible stands in dark contrast to how the rest of the world lives, or not. We overeat at every turn, and we still snack. Go to the movies and watch people buy their popcorn, candy, and soda just after they have had a meal. They probably just ate at home just before they came to the movie theater. At home, we stock the larder with all kinds of snacks–cookies, crackers, pretzels, pizza, nuggets, chocolate, cereal, pizza, ice cream, candy, and I haven’t even mentioned all the leftovers in the fridge upon which we might graze–hot dogs, hamburgers, meatballs, mashed potatoes, pork chops, steak, lasagna. Don’t get me wrong, I love to snack as much as the next guy, maybe more in fact. I love to stay up late and eat potato chips, really salty, really crunchy. Maybe the all-time best snack every, a little salty, sweet, crunchy, freshly made caramel corn. Not the stuff you buy in the store, but the stuff you pop yourself and mix with your own homemade caramel sauce. Temptation never had it so easy. I guess the problem with snacks is that it is food we just don’t need to eat, but we can’t either stop or help ourselves. Doughnuts, who needs a doughnut? A triple white mocha with whipped cream and sprinkles? Pound cake with frosting? Muffins. Did anyone ever need to eat a muffin, or it’s weird and creepy doppleganger, the frosted cupcake. As a society we are considering legislation to limit the sale of super-sized soft drinks of 64 or more ounces because obesity is such a problem in America. I imagine this begs the question: is our own success killing us because we cannot control, on a personal level, the amount of food that we eat?

On buffets

Is the ubiquitous all-you-can-eat buffet a symbol for the demise of modern civilization? Buffets are as popular as ever in our society, and they show no sign of slowing down, disappearing, or changing. You have been there: you pay one price for your plate and drink, and you can eat until you either pass out from a diabetic coma, your stomach ruptures, or you throw up. Chinese buffets are the most fun, but I find all buffets to be both sinister and creepy as we serve ourselves out of aluminum bins. Buffets seem like a good idea, but they seldom, if ever, are. For most people the idea of the buffet, unlimited food for just one price, seems like a real good deal, but the buffet is just a sign of the times: in a land of plenty where many poor people go hungry, those who have ten dollars in their pocket can pig out to their heart’s content, eating until their stomachs protrude and good taste and manners have left by a rear door. Obesity is a serious problem in our country, and buffets do nothing but feed the problem. Having experienced several buffets I must say that the buffet actually works against a person’s self-interest. The actual amount of food that any person should eat in any given sitting should not really exceed the volume of one closed fist or one cup, eight ounces. Overeating then becomes a national pastime, and the results are ugly and unhealthy. Success has made us fat and sassy, and we all overeat all the time. Our waistlines show it. Now when I go to a buffet, I pick my favorite food and get one portion. I will later add a few fruits and vegetables to accompany whatever protein I might be eating that day. I eat that food and stop. There is nothing cost-effective about me going to a buffet because I don’t take seconds, don’t stuff myself, don’t exercise my gluttony ghost. I’m no saint, but lately I come to realize that a balanced diet combined with portion control is a blueprint for a healthier lifestyle even if I don’t get to eat a lot of sweets and desserts. Just because we have the food does not mean we should eat it. Stuffing ourselves to the point of blindness is, in the long term, unhealthy and detrimental. The buffet is symbolic of the paradox that industrial and agricultural success has brought to our nation and cultural. We have more than we can ever, or should ever, eat. As our waistlines expand, instead of thinking about why that is happening, we just buy bigger clothing, baggy shirts and stretchy waistbands. We lack self-control in the face of delicious luxurious food, and we are willing to sacrifice our collective health. Temptation lies at the heart of the buffet, and buffet owners know that the only thing we cannot collectively resist is temptation itself, ergo, buffets proliferate and are successful, and type-two diabetes becomes a bigger and bigger problem. There is nothing ethically wrong with the buffet, but it does bring out the worst in people who consume too much food, too much sugar, too much starch, too much fat. Buffets are everything in excess, and too much of a good thing, as they say, is a very bad thing even if we are trying to get the most for our dollar. Here the dollar is just as traitorous as Judas or Brutus.

On buffets

Is the ubiquitous all-you-can-eat buffet a symbol for the demise of modern civilization? Buffets are as popular as ever in our society, and they show no sign of slowing down, disappearing, or changing. You have been there: you pay one price for your plate and drink, and you can eat until you either pass out from a diabetic coma, your stomach ruptures, or you throw up. Chinese buffets are the most fun, but I find all buffets to be both sinister and creepy as we serve ourselves out of aluminum bins. Buffets seem like a good idea, but they seldom, if ever, are. For most people the idea of the buffet, unlimited food for just one price, seems like a real good deal, but the buffet is just a sign of the times: in a land of plenty where many poor people go hungry, those who have ten dollars in their pocket can pig out to their heart’s content, eating until their stomachs protrude and good taste and manners have left by a rear door. Obesity is a serious problem in our country, and buffets do nothing but feed the problem. Having experienced several buffets I must say that the buffet actually works against a person’s self-interest. The actual amount of food that any person should eat in any given sitting should not really exceed the volume of one closed fist or one cup, eight ounces. Overeating then becomes a national pastime, and the results are ugly and unhealthy. Success has made us fat and sassy, and we all overeat all the time. Our waistlines show it. Now when I go to a buffet, I pick my favorite food and get one portion. I will later add a few fruits and vegetables to accompany whatever protein I might be eating that day. I eat that food and stop. There is nothing cost-effective about me going to a buffet because I don’t take seconds, don’t stuff myself, don’t exercise my gluttony ghost. I’m no saint, but lately I come to realize that a balanced diet combined with portion control is a blueprint for a healthier lifestyle even if I don’t get to eat a lot of sweets and desserts. Just because we have the food does not mean we should eat it. Stuffing ourselves to the point of blindness is, in the long term, unhealthy and detrimental. The buffet is symbolic of the paradox that industrial and agricultural success has brought to our nation and cultural. We have more than we can ever, or should ever, eat. As our waistlines expand, instead of thinking about why that is happening, we just buy bigger clothing, baggy shirts and stretchy waistbands. We lack self-control in the face of delicious luxurious food, and we are willing to sacrifice our collective health. Temptation lies at the heart of the buffet, and buffet owners know that the only thing we cannot collectively resist is temptation itself, ergo, buffets proliferate and are successful, and type-two diabetes becomes a bigger and bigger problem. There is nothing ethically wrong with the buffet, but it does bring out the worst in people who consume too much food, too much sugar, too much starch, too much fat. Buffets are everything in excess, and too much of a good thing, as they say, is a very bad thing even if we are trying to get the most for our dollar. Here the dollar is just as traitorous as Judas or Brutus.

On pickles

Read no further if you are a serious person looking to expand your mind because you will be disappointed. This post is about pickles. Normally I won’t write about as trivial as a cucumber in vinegar, but there is no use in denying it, I have been a fan my whole life. And it doesn’t matter what kind of pickle it is, I like them all: sweet, dill, spicy, garlic, kosher, beet, gherkins, hamburger slices, cold pack, bread and butter, sour, ice box. In fact, the stronger the pickle, the better. The more vinegar and spices, the better. Pickles are strong food not meant for either the light hearted or the picky eaters. I want my pickles to be strong and spicy, laced with garlic and jalapeños and cayenne peppers. I want pickles that make you think twice about a second bite. I want pickles that leave you with dragon breath so strong that even hours later, people will turn away when you speak. I want pickles that erase the taste of the beverage you are drinking. And pickles do go with just about everything except angel food cake, which I don’t eat anyway. Nothing is sadder than taken out the pickle jar and finding one, last, sad and solitary pickle floating in the brine and you have to give it to another person. Sweet pickles make a wonderful dessert if you are so inclined. If someone offers you a jar of homemade pickles, take it and run so you don’t have to share it with anyone. Pickles on burgers is an absolute necessity. People have been jailed for less. Craving pickles is not just for pregnant wives at midnight on Sunday. When you are dieting, pickles might be a part of the solution and not the problem. Pickles are not a garnish for more important food: they should have their own food category–vinegary stuff. Size is not a problem for pickles, but having a fresh jar of them might be. It is always a good idea to have an unopened jar of pickles in the pantry just in case. Where would tarter sauce be without pickles. Pickle relish is a delightful addition to any hotdog or frankfurter situation that might come at any given moment. No one should discriminate against pickles because of their size, shape, spice preference, or vinegar. The fashion of preserving pickles in crocks became anachronistic too soon. Pickles should be firm and crunchy. If pickles were offered at peace talks, all wars would be over sooner rather than later because once you share pickles with someone, you can no longer be at war with them. You probably can’t even be grumpy. I hear that pickles are a vegetable, but I’m sure this is just an ugly rumor. Although “Pickles” might be a weird name for a dog, it is certainly not the worst name either. If you are eating a pickle, and you should always eat your pickle, life cannot be all that bad, now can it?