Food Log

Breakfast this morning was half of a white grapefruit, a bowl of toasted oat cereal with sliced banana and soy milk, and a cup of coffee. I weighed 155 pounds.

Over lunch I took a winding four mile walk through campus and downtown. After I got back, I had two cups of green tea with a cinnamon stick.

Dinner was half of a sautéed onion and red pepper pizza and a bowl of tin roof ice cream.

Thomas Jefferson: Foodie

This comes to us via The Food Section: Appetizers, via Nuggets. In American Treasures of the Library of Congress you can find a facsimiles of a number of historical documents, including Thomas Jefferson’s handwritten draft of the Declaration of Independence, but more importantly, his plans for a pasta machine, and his recipe for vanilla ice cream.

Thumbnail image of Thomas Jefferson's plans for a pasta machine.

Maccaroni

The best maccaroni [sic] in Italy is made with a particular sort of flour called Semolina, in Naples: but in almost every shop a different sort of flour is commonly used; for, provided the flower be of a good quality, not ground extremely fine, it will always do very well. A paste is made with flour, water, & less yeast than is used for making bread. This paste is then put, a little at a time, with about 5. or 6. lb each time into a round iron box ABC. The under part of which is perforated with holes, through which the pasta when pressed by the screw DEF, comes out, and forms the maccaroni g.g.g. which when sufficiently long, are cut & spread to dry. The screw is turned by a lever inserted into the hole L of which there are 4. or 6. It is evident that on turning the screw one way, the cylindrical part F, which fits the iron box or mortar perfectly well, must press upon the paste and must force it out of the holes. LIM is a strong wooden frame, properly fastened to the wall, floor & ceiling of the room.

N.O. is a figure on a larger scale of the holes in the iron plate, where all the black is solid, and the rest is open. The real plate has a great many holes, and is screwed to the box or mortar: or rather there is a set of plates which may be changed at will, with holes of different shapes & sizes for the different sorts of maccaroni. [Thomas Jefferson]

Food Log

Breakfast this morning was two slices of toasted pound cake, half of a white grapefruit, a glass of orange juice, and a cup of coffee. I weighed 155 pounds.

Photograph of pizza bagel with a strawberry, orange, banana smoothie.

At work this morning I had two cups of green tea with a cinnamon stick. I walked downtown to Irving’s for lunch — maybe three miles, round trip. Lunch was a pizza bagel with a strawberry, orange, banana smoothie.

Photograph of turkey salad.

Dinner was a turkey salad and a bowl of tin roof ice cream.

Outdulgence

Do I have a habit (or habits) that are a threat to my well-being (physically, emotionally, and spiritually)?

If I find one… I will work out how much it costs me (in both time and money.)

I will consider another habit to take its place that will benefit my well being (physically, emotionally, and spiritually.)

I will work out what savings there may be between these two habits.

I will commit these savings to a cause that, if funded, would reduce global injustice (as I might see it.)

I will consistently give those “savings” to that cause for a minimum three year period (giving one year’s notice of cancellation.)

As a result I will receive a “Double Benefit.” My own health, etc. improved “well-being” and my contribution to Global justice. [Graham Kerr]

Food Log

Breakfast this morning was two slices of toasted pound cake, half of a white grapefruit, a glass of orange juice, and a cup of coffee.

Photograph of Sausage and Brown Rice Casserole.

No real lunch today, though I did have a couple hands full of peanuts. Dinner was Gretchen’s sausage and brown rice casserole and two glasses of Bolla Pinot Grigio and tin roof ice cream.

Post Hoc, Ergo Proctor Hoc?

Just because two events follow each other does not mean that the second event was caused by the first. This is the fallacy that can occur when trying to deduce the cause of historical events by correlating that event with other historical events. I find it interesting that a newspaper would print two articles on the same day that both attempt to imply that the nations obesity resulted from a specific change: in one case the use of high fructose corn syrup and in the other the reduction in the use of fat.

First for the sweet:

An overweight America may be fixated on fat and obsessed with carbs, but nutritionists say the real problem is much sweeter — we’re awash in sugar.

Not just any sugar, but high fructose corn syrup.

The country eats more sweetener made from corn than from sugarcane or beets, gulping it down in drinks as well as in frozen food and baked goods. Even ketchup is laced with it.

Almost all nutritionists finger high fructose corn syrup consumption as a major culprit in the nation’s obesity crisis. The inexpensive sweetener flooded the American food supply in the early 1980s, just about the time the nation’s obesity rate started its unprecedented climb. [SFGate]

Next the fat:

Many dietitians now admit their one-size-fits-all approach to fat consumption is outdated, even going so far as to endorse such former pariahs as highly saturated coconut and other tropical oils.

The shift is driven as much by changing social attitudes as by stark epidemiological evidence: Despite a 30-year low-fat frenzy, Americans are fatter than ever, more than 65 percent classified as overweight or obese.

The nation’s obesity rate began to skyrocket in the mid-’80s — about the same time national low-fat public health campaigns were in full swing. In one year alone — 1998-99 — Centers for Disease Control and Prevention figures show that the nation’s obesity rate rose an astonishing 6 percent. [SFGate]

While I am not saying that I know, specifically, why Americans are fat. I am not saying even that there is a single simple explanation. I believe that there may be some truth to both of these arguments. In fact, both arguments sound highly plausible, perhaps even more so when taken together. What I am trying to say is perhaps explained by this quotation:

We should be careful to get out of an experience only the wisdom that is in it — and stop there; lest we be like the cat that sits down on a hot stove lid. She will never sit on a hot stove lid again — and that is well; but also she will never sit down on a cold one anymore. — Mark Twain

My recommendation is simple: Do More; Eat Less. Eat a balanced, varied diet — nothing to excess — and match your diet to your activity level — or your activity level to your diet — your choice.

Beans, Again

Not to be outdone by the soi-disant culinary experts at the Baltimore Sun and the San Francisco Chronicle, the Boston Globe strikes back with a tour de force trio of Ham Hocks, Baked Beans, and Brown Bread.

Homely baked beans are Boston’s signature, identified with the city since Colonial days. A traditional Saturday night supper for Puritan families, especially paired with brown bread, this dish, both sweet and savory, continues to provide a hearty meal — especially in the cold winds of winter.

Ham Hocks

  • 1 pound Smoked Ham Hocks
  • 1 Onion, sliced
  • 3 tablespoons Cider Vinegar
  • ½ cup fresh Parsley Stems
  • 2 sprigs fresh Thyme
  • 6 cloves Garlic, peeled
  • 2 Bay Leaves
  • 3 teaspoons Salt
  • 8 cups Water
  1. In a large stockpot, combine the ham hocks, onion, vinegar, parsley, thyme, garlic, bay leaves, salt, and water. Bring to a boil.
  2. Turn the heat to medium-low and cover the pot. Cook for 1 hour.
  3. Remove the hocks from the liquid. Strain the cooking water into a bowl. Measure 6 cups and set them aside.
  4. Pull the meat off the bones, discarding the fat. Dice the meat. Measure ½ cup and set it aside.

Baked Beans

  • 1 pound Dried Navy Beans
  • 6 cups of Ham Hock Stock
  • ½ cup diced Ham Hock
  • ¼ pound Bacon, cut into strips
  • 2 Onions, chopped
  • 1 cup Diced Canned Tomatoes
  • 6 tablespoons Molasses
  • ¼ cup Brown Sugar
  • ¼ cup Cider Vinegar
  • 6 tablespoons prepared Mustard
  • 1½ teaspoons Salt
  • 1 tablespoon chopped fresh Ginger
  • 1½ teaspoons Cayenne Pepper
  • ½ cup Ketchup
  • 5 Bacon strips (for garnish)
  1. Set the oven at 300°F.
  2. Rinse the beans, drain, and discard any bad ones. In a large stockpot, bring the beans and ham hock stock to a boil. Turn the heat down to medium-low and cover the pot. Simmer the beans for 15 minutes.
  3. In a large, oven-proof casserole, combine the ham hock, bacon, onions, beans and their liquid, tomatoes, molasses, brown sugar, vinegar, mustard, salt, ginger, cayenne, and ketchup. Stir well. Lay the the bacon strips on top.
  4. Cover and bake for 4½ to 5 hours, stirring the beans every hour, or until they are very tender. Uncover and bake for 1 hour more.
  5. Remove the beans from the oven and let them cool slightly before serving.

Brown Bread

  • Butter (for the pan)
  • 1 cup Whole Wheat Flour
  • 1 cup Rye Flour
  • 1 cup Cornmeal
  • 2 cups Whole Milk
  • 2/3 cup Molasses
  • 1 cup Raisins
  1. Set the oven at 300°F. Generously butter an 8½-by-4½-by-2½-inch loaf pan. Tear off a piece of foil that will cover the top of the pan and leave a 1-inch border. Butter one side. Bring a kettle of water to a boil.
  2. In a large bowl, stir together the whole wheat, rye, and cornmeal. Add the milk, molasses, and raisins. Blend well.
  3. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and place the foil, buttered-side down, over the top. Firmly seal the edges of the foil around the top of the loaf pan. Place the sealed pan in the middle of a roasting pan large enough to hold the dish comfortably. Pour enough boiling water into the pan to come halfway up the sides.
  4. Bake the bread for 3 hours or until a skewer inserted into the middle of the loaf comes out clean.
  5. Remove the foil and cool the loaf on a wire rack for 15 minutes. Invert the pan and turn the bread out to cool slightly. Slice and serve warm.