Genug Already!

It is getting incredibly tedious, but I it appears I am stuck in the roundabout of redting. 

Every time the phone rings, it is for one of three guys: Ponda Boba, Greedo, or Bren Derlin.  

I am seriously considering developing a taste for alcohol. 

While Bren does not deserve any remarks, the first two do. It takes nearly every ounce of self-control not to break into Xena-whacking mode when someone coos that Greedo sounds like SUCH a catch, or that Ponda is SO nice.  

Wine, please? 

Rather, hit me over the head with the bottle. 

I Fried!

I had come across Busy in Brooklyn's recipe for cheese latkes, and decided I was going to make them for a family Chanukah brunch. This was major, since Ma doesn't quite trust me with the stove ever since I melted a Tupperware lid in 1998.

My nephew can't process gluten, and I thought I had a more pleasant alternate flour in the house (like almond meal), but I was stuck with garbanzo bean flour.  

I decided to try it anyway.

I whisked the flour, eggs, and cheese together, and tasted it. It was nasty; the bean flour tasted distinctly like bean flour.  

"I have to chuck this," I said with despair to Ma, who was prepping the fish. 

"You'd be surprised what sugar can do," she said.  

I added the sugar, a dollop of vanilla sugar and a dash of vanilla extract. The next taste was somewhat improved, but not amazingly so. 

"You'd be surprised what frying can do," Ma said. 

With despair, I warmed up the pan, unwilling to put good ingredients in the garbage. 

Luke arrived, arms laden with children.  

"Oooh, cheese latkes!" He plucked one, fresh from the pan, and popped it into his mouth. I winced. 

Via pbs.org

"Man, these are good!"  

My eyes widened in shock. 

The nephew with celiac disease loved it, and kept scurrying into the kitchen for more; he usually has to be begged to eat anything.  

Another nephew, scrawny from disinterest in food, crowed merrily that he could eat ten more plates of these. 

I stood for two hours, frying steadily; as soon as a latke was taken off the fire, it was claimed by greedy hands.  

When I finally sat down, the last latke was being fought over. 

And I felt great. There is such satisfaction in making something that everyone loves and is pretty nutritious, since garbanzo bean flour is high in fiber and protein, and I used the tamest of cheeses, cottage.

"Can you make this again?" the nephew without digestive upsets begs. 

"You betcha!" I assure him.  

Behold, future dates! I can fry!

Battle of the Bulge: Start Small

A few weeks ago the NY Times Magazine had a cover, "Do You Have to Be Superhuman to Lose Weight?" 

The story within, "The Fat Trap," related that it appears to be that when obese individuals lose weight, their body fights against it; eventually, they have to consume less to maintain the same weight as someone else, since their bodies are not happy about this drastic change. 

The study referenced took a control group of obese individuals and put them on a major diet, restricting their portions to specific shakes and two cups of veggies a day. For those who stuck with it, the average weight loss in ten weeks was 30 pounds. Then the subjects were taken off the diet; many regained the weight. 

I don't think that any means of successful weight loss will involve extreme starvation; people do not become unhealthily heavy overnight, so it cannot be they can remove that weight suddenly and keep it off. 

I would think that if one wanted to take control of their weight, they have to start small. Like no processed or take-out foods. Introducing less refined flours into their diet, and fruits and vegetables. And when they are victorious in healthy food habits, moving on to portion size.

If the body experiences gradual weight loss, the way it experienced gradual weight gain, maybe it won't react so strongly to loss of pounds.  

While I was not categorized as overweight (being tall has its perks for pound distribution), I implemented methods to control my eating. I would take up a step, and I managed to maintain it to the point where it became routine, rather than an effort. After nearly a decade, I've had to date a 20 pound weight loss, the most recent five pounds lost this year. 

I've been relaying how I did it, and I hope those who have weight issues out there will opt for a healthier means rather than shortcuts. For instance, on Dr. Phil there was a woman who had bariatric surgery, but she never actually dealt with her food addiction. Since she couldn't eat because her stomach would explode, she became a shopaholic.

Something that major will not be able to be solved by sudden, drastic measures; it has to be undertaken with patience and determination. As in many things in life.

Not A Cloud, But Darn Close

Sleeping used to involve a level of steps. 

I could only remain on either my left side or on my back. I can only fall asleep on my right side, see, and if I rolled too soon there than I wouldn't be able to fall asleep, since I can only do that when already dozing off. Then I would have to make sure to tip myself over the right side, since on my left side or on my back I would just remain in a state of suspended animation, not actual sleep.  

It's simple when one gets used to it. 

I began to notice that I was sleeping better in practically every other bed, including the ones that fold out of a sofa. Meaning, that my regular bed should cause me such problems is not normal. 

The few times I dared to sit on others' memory foam mattresses I nearly wept in comfort. Not willing to invest in an entire one, I searched for a mattress pad; my mattress itself is still in good condition.  

And found one that is really loved: Sleep Studio 2" Visco2 Ventilated Mattress Enhancer. I bought it, waited eagerly in the doorway and nearly did a cartwheel when it arrived. 

The hype is definitely worth it.  

I can lay down now on my right side without torpedoing my chances of sleep. I can remain in the same position for eight hours and I won't ache in the morning. My blankets remain perfectly tucked around me, instead of my flailing them on the floor whilst tossing and turning. 

I look forward now to the night, when I slide under the covers and unintentionally go "Aaaaaaaah." 

Now, on nights when the kinfauna (tips to Bad4) invade, it is not a surprise to walk into my bedroom to find my niece in my bed. 

"Get out!" 

She grumbles as she moves into the other spare bed, and I crawl into mine.  

"Aaaaaaaah." 

*Be aware that the mattress pad has a distinct smell of mint after unpacking it. That dissipates after a few days.

Unthreatening Vegetables

Cooking shows, while being informative, can leave one with a flayed ego. 

Chefs condescendingly prattle about species of squash I never heard of, claiming it's available in the local market (not mine). They use spices like rosemary that I can't stand - even the name "rosemary" sounds like a female I wouldn't be able to stand in real life. They whip out alien contraptions which, they claim, is the only way to properly extract garlic.

Blah, Barefoot Contessa. Blah.

Tamar Adler strives to change that faulty image of dinner having to be a masterpiece. In her book, she educates the reader that recipes are not a given, that with the knowledge of how to properly boil water, one is a free agent. 

Many of today's generation have not witnessed home cooking first hand, she says, so they think home cooked is what the television personalities do oh-so-annoyingly.

The article made me consider my own approach to vegetables. 

Often, for a meal, when I have access to a stove, I just throw into a pan with some extra virgin olive oil, salt, pepper, and garlic powder any vegetable available. Sweet potato, mushrooms, parsnip, canned beans, frozen spinach, broccoli, or peas. For added oomph I saute an onion. The steaming resulting mess is absolutely delicious as well as nourishing; I can sense all those vitamins and minerals rushing throughout my bloodstream.

But it would seem my water boiling leaves much to be desired.

Feed Me

"Can you cook?" he asks casually. 

I pause in middle of twirling my pasta. Uh-oh. 

"I can cook," I attempt to explain, hoping a defensive note wasn't creeping into my tone. "It's just that when you live with an amazing chef like my mother, any of my efforts are kind of moot." 

He nods, and asks something else, but I have a feeling I just flunked the test. 

He is not first, nor the last, guy to ask. I try to dazzle them with my other hobbies - shopping ("Do you need a suit? You're a 42 Regular, right?"), painting ("Well I wouldn't say I was Michelangelo, exactly . . . "), super child-raising skills ("By the time my nephew was sent home he was not only potty-trained, he could make omelettes.")

He takes in all these tidbits with a pleasant smile, but I know that on his mental checklist, I have been crossed out. 

Am I imagining it, gentlemen?

We All Know "Fiddler," So How 'Bout . . .

I find modern rom-coms to be quite frustrating as there is nothing much in them that connects to how we date and woo. After Pride and Prejudice, we resort to quoting Fiddler on the Roof. 

A while back I saw this film, Arranged. The executive producer is Yuta Silverman, a gal from Borough Park, and the film is inspired by her dating events and her friendship with a Muslim girl.  

To give the film wider appeal, I am guessing, the main character's family seem like a mish-mash of various Jewish backgrounds. It's nice, because when watching it one doesn't automatically categorize the family into a box-like affiliation. 

Although, there does seem to be too much emphasis on the shadchan rather than the family and friends that usually set one up. Nor do we claim that the shadchan is a prophetess who can select one's spouse for them.  

Frum women also only wear white tights, apparently. Sooooo unflattering.

Here is an interview with the directors.  

Here is an article in the Jewish Week.

Trailer below. 

Cleanse Away

One of the basic beauty tenets is: never go to bed without taking off makeup. Of course, as frummies, there will have to be an exception once a week for Friday nights, and for various yomim tovim. 

But otherwise, it is very much necessary to take that Face off, no matter how late one crawls in the door from a wedding. 

Here are a few of my favorite cleansers: 

Dr. Woods Facial Cleanser Black Soap and Shea Butter. Black soap is African in origin, containing a mixture of plantain, cocoa pods, palm tree leaves, and shea tree bark. Plantain skins contain vitamins A and E. 

Black soap is good for all skin types, from sensitive, dry, oily, and acne. Like tea tree, it has many uses for treating various skin conditions, but I find that it is not as harsh as tea tree oil. It is a thorough cleanser that helps the skin without stripping it.

Auromere Sandalwood-Tumeric Ayurvedic Bar Soap. Tumeric is good for acne and oily skin, and the many natural oils in this bar keeps skin moisturized; my skin feels yummily soft after using this. It also smells delicious.    

Avalon Organics Vitamin C Refreshing Gel or Milk. The gel is for oily skin types, the milk for dry. These cleansers smell heavenly of orange, a fragrance which I happen to love. The vitamin C it contains is beneficial to the skin. 

Grandpa's Thylox Acne Treatment Soap with Sulfur. While sulfur is not exactly divine to the nostrils, it is considered an effective treatment of acne.

Winter SPF

I have combination skin, so while I have an oily t-zone the rest of my face can get pretty dry and tight in the frigid winter months. 

During those times I need to up the ante when it comes to moisturizer. However, it also can't be too greasy.  

Enter Reviva Labs Sun Protective Light Cream Moisturizer. It has a light, whipped quality, and sinks into skin without leaving an oily residue. It's too rich for me in warmer weather, but for those with dry or combination skin it should be ideal. It claims it is for all skin types, so those with oily skin can give it a try, too. 

SPF in winter is very necessary - the sun is just as potent, so be sure to wear sunglasses and shmear up the skin.

Big Watches

Big watches are in.

I like me a big watch. I find that large, clunky, cuff-like men's watches grant an aura of daintiness; small, thin timepieces make me feel less fine-boned, oddly enough. Women cited in the article like a big watch too, and since their men can't wear a watch smaller than the women in their life, theirs get to be HUGE. 

While the article was saying that due to the prominence of cell phones and such, watches are now for strictly showing-off purposes, I actually use my watch since I have an aversion toward phones in general. 

The other benefit to large watches is that it is really easy to tell time with those huge hands and prominent numbers. Ergo, less squinting. Meaning, no wrinkles.