Fat Time Off

I had to call in fat today. I told my boss I couldn’t come in because I didn’t have anything to wear. Waistbands were conspiring against me. Zippers were not my friends. Buttons were laughing at me. Even the hook and eyes were busting a gut. Leave it to clothing hardware to sink my morale. Did I need to go buy some Spanks? No thanks. I needed to call in fat. I figured my company would be better off if I stayed home rather than showing up at a client meeting and saying, “Sorry I’m late, but my pants wouldn’t button.”

We get Personal Time Off and sick days. Why shouldn’t we should get Fat Time Off? It’s thoughtless to go to work when you’re sick or your pants are too tight. You could get other people bloated. It’s not that I’m suddenly the blueberry from Willie Wonka or anything, but when you’re a small-statured person, pounds are like cat years. People say they can’t see the extra weight, but I think they’re just being polite. To me, those two and a half pounds stick out like whole wheat on gluten-free bread. Why can’t people tell you the truth? Wouldn’t you be more motivated to do something about it if you knew everyone was pointing at you? So if someone asks if you can tell they’ve put on a few pounds, here are a few ways for you to soften the blow:

10 Ways to Tell Someone They've Gained Weight:

1. It’s admirable that in this economy, you’re not wasting food.

2. Old people shouldn’t be too thin. It makes their face sag.

3. Now people can focus on your personality. Say something zingy.

4. Your new midsection detracts from the fact that you need a pedicure. If only you could see your toes.

5. Congratulations! You’re finally going to be popular. People like to be around you when they’re thinner than you.

6. You look so glamourous, you could be a model for Lane Bryant.

7. Soon you can star in a prime-time TV show: The Biggest Loser.

8. Maybe you'll get an endorsement deal and start rubbing elbows with the fatterati: Kirstie Alley, Marie Osmond and Jared the Subway guy.

9. It’s not your fault. Counting calories requires math skills, and obviously those didn’t come with your G.E.D.

10. You’re in good company. Look at Fats Domino, Fats Waller and Chubby Checkers. Now if you could only become a black man and learn to play the piano.

11. (Bonus) It shows high self-esteem that you’re so secure, you don’t give a rat’s ass what you look like.

Then tell them to call in fat, break out their stretchy pants and lounge, laze and luxuriate in elastic. They’ve earned it. They owe it to their midriff and hindquarters. Oh, and their chair at work deserves a day off, too.

The Stewed Okra Blues

Lentil: What’s wrong?

Okra: Nobody likes me.

Lentil: I do. You were one of my momma’s most savory side dishes.

Okra: But you’re from Texas. Everyone else thinks I’m a slimy hick.

Lentil: Well don’t just stew about it. Embrace your slime. Own it!

Okra: I do have this song...

Lentil: Sing it, Okra. Sing it!

The Stewed Okra Blues

I’m seedy and slimy

But baby you should try me

I’m such an easy roll in the pan

Sautée me and stew me

You know you wanna do me

I’ll satisfy more than your man

I ain’t white trash, but I heard Johnny Cash

Loved me more than his ol’ gal, June

Like her sweet succotash, she cooked me in a flash

And served me with some fried raccoon

I’m slimy and seedy

But baby I ain’t needy

You can leave me all alone to braise

Stew me and sautée me

But don’t you dare fillet me

I’m goin’ through a vegan phase

Now listen up, you haters

Grab some peppers and tomaters

I’m a little sweet ‘n sour

You don’t need no oil and flour

Don’t fry me, I’m slimy, just try me

I’m so thick ‘n chunky when I’m stewed

I’m a hot ‘n hunky southern dude

Why me? I’m slimy, just try me

I may lead a life of slime

But I’m delicious and I rhyme

Buy me, I’m slimy, just try me

© 2012 Adair Seldon

The Stewed Okra Recipe

1 small onion, diced

1 medium pepper, diced (I used yellow for color, but the traditional is green)

1 ½ - 2 stalks of celery, sliced

3/4 lb okra, sliced

14 oz. can of stewed or diced tomatoes*

1 tsp brown sugar

Salt and pepper to taste

Sautée onions until a little brown. Add pepper and celery. Sautee 5 - 7 more minutes. Add okra and sautée 5 more minutes. Add tomatoes and cook over low heat for about 30 minutes. Add salt, pepper and brown sugar, and cook until okra and celery are fork-tender done but not mushy. Adjust seasonings if necessary and serve.

*I used Muir Glen Organic Fire-roasted Diced Tomatoes.

Lentil’s Breakdown

Canned tomatoes giving you the BPA blues? With their high acid content, they’re one of the worst offenders for Bisphenol A exposure—a known endocrine disruptor. The majority of canned goods in the U.S. are still sealed with resin that contains BPA to prevent contamination and spoiling, but some manufacturers like Muir Glen and Trader Joe’s are going BPA-free. If the can is white inside, it’s got a BPA lining; a bright golden color inside means it’s BPA-free.

Related Link:

Nopales Cactus Salad (with Cahones)

Ode to a Fugitive

You thought that you could stop and chill

Behind the garlic and the dill

The jig is up, I got your number

You’re that seedy, mean cucumber

Travel Bite: Fashionista Farmer

L.L. Bean

I just returned from the Santa Fe Farmers’ Market where I got a preview of the new summer fashions. The last time I was there, Kenneth Cole Slaw made a colorful splash with his eye-catching ensemble. And though the chile season hasn't arrived yet, this year’s designers proved to be just as haute. Here’s a quick runway rundown with the Prada of produce. While some of the supermodels may be beanpoles, none show signs of starvation. Eat that, Kate Moss!

J. Crudité

Clové

Juicy Couture

Kalamata Klein

Chévre Saint Laurent

Karl Lavender Field

Coq au vin Chanel

Todd Old Ham

Related Links:

Travel Bite: Santa Fe Farmers’ Market

Single Bite: Fashionista Farmer

Chillin’ with the Chiles in Santa Fe: Part 1

A Chocolate-Dipped Apricot and Pistachio Parable

This is the story of the Princess and the Sweet Tooth.

Once upon a time [yesterday at 4:52 pm], a lovely princess [an unshowered, couch-lazing chocoholic] desired a royal sweet [Wills was with Kate, and the younger red-headed brother is too wild—even for a cougar princess]. But when the princess rang her bell, no one came calling with a tray of Godiva Chocolates [or something organic and fair trade-ish]. So she got off her throne [it folds out into a bed] and searched for something rich and dark [but George Clooney wasn’t in the pantry].

Upon discovering some royal subjects [dried apricots, chocolate chips and pistachios], the princess quickly fashioned them into royal jewels and barely lifted a finger [except to take some mediocre photos, photoshop them, write a scintillating parable, rewrite it because the first draft did not scintillate, format it into an archaic blogging platform, and hit “Publish”]. These were even easier to make than her chocolate-covered mint leaves that required a more delicate chocolateering method.

The princess was so pleased with her creation that she pilfered all the jewels [ate 24 apricots, but who’s counting?]. It was so simple, if the royal subjects had been sitting on her 16th-century, gem-encrusted credenza [IKEA coffee table], she could have fashioned these royal jewels from a semi-reclining position without ever having left her throne.

The moral of the story? If a princess is as clever as she is lazy, she will be compensated with the consummate confection.

Chocolate-Dipped Apricots with Pistachios

24 dried apricots (these were small-ish and Turkish)

1/3 cup chocolate chips (semi-sweet or bittersweet, fair trade-preferred)

1/3 cup shelled pistachios, crushed

Melt the chips in a double boiler or in a small bowl in the microwave on medium power in 30-second intervals until melted.

Dip half of an apricot into the chocolate, and sprinkle the nuts on both sides while you’re still holding it. Then lay the nut-encrusted apricot on a sheet of wax or parchment paper to set. Will last a few days unrefrigerated in a covered container.

Related Links:

Chocolate-Covered Mint Leaves (My Thin Mints)

A Simple Sautéed Squash-Blossom Parable

My Frugal Royal Wedding Canapés

A Meatless Meat Loaf Mother's Day Memoir

"What kind of TV dinner do you want—meat loaf, fried chicken, Salisbury steak or Mexican?”

That was a question I was asked from the day I could eat solid food. We had a separate, full-size freezer in a back room stocked with Swanson and Banquet frozen dinners. We were well-versed in every variety, but one of our favorites was Swanson's meat loaf.

My mother had many talents, but cooking was not among them. She was gifted at overcooking, however. In the morning, I’d hear my dad scraping the char off his toast like he was playing the washboard. With all that practice, he could’ve joined a bluegrass band.

The red meat and sugar queen, mom cooked with packets of Lipton’s onion soup mix, cans of Veg-All and boxes of Schilling’s Taco Casserole. One of her better dishes was a pork chop and potato casserole in white sauce. The white sauce was from a can. The potatoes were from another can. I don’t remember if the pork chops were from a can. You’d have to ask my shrink. I may have blocked that out.

The secret sauce

Mom liked to tell the story of the time when I was about 10 and refused to eat the burnt hamburger patty, served bunless, she had made. I said, “This tastes like goat droppings!” So she put some chocolate sauce on it to get me to eat it. When I took a bite and refused it again, she ate it. I craved normal.

I’m falling apart, but some of mom’s other creations are still holding up.

Her forte was at the sewing machine. She made my sister and I adorable, one-of-a-kind outfits with matching accessories and my brother an elaborate George Washington costume for school, replete with a white powder wig. She’d stay up all hours of the night to sew a hem for one of us or to put the crowning touches on one of her creations. No one else's mom had such originality, and sometimes I just wanted to blend in by wearing something store-bought and vanilla. But my mother had grander visions.

A few mementos from her button-hoarding collection

The maestro with a needle and thread, she orchestrated each stitch into a glorious string arrangement. Seams and colors were meticulously matched. Buttons were chosen for a breakout solo performance or softer, quiet accompaniment. Zippers, threads and rickrack played along in pitch-perfect, three-part harmony. Every detail was a weighty aesthetic decision to be agonized and labored over. Back then it was called artistry and craftsmanship. Today there are meds for that. Yep, the OCD doesn¹t fall far from the tree.

My meatless meat loaf. Trust me. You don't want the recipe.

But she made a meat loaf that I actually liked. Her Chinese meat loaf had ground beef and a sweet and sour sauce made from a can of tomato sauce, French's mustard, white vinegar and brown sugar. As an adult, I tweaked the recipe and made it with ground turkey, and it was a real crowd-pleaser. But since I rarely eat meat anymore, I got to thinking, why not try a vegetarian version with that same sauce? So I made one up with lentils and brown rice. It tasted vaguely familiar because of the sauce, and it looked like a meat loaf, but the first time wasn't exactly a charm.

My meatless meat loaf TV dinner. You don't want that either.

While this “meat” loaf was made in her honor, ironically, without the meat, I doubt she would have eaten it. Not without chocolate sauce anyway. And after a few bites, I’m thinking that's not such a bad idea. This will be my third Mother’s Day without my mother, and I no longer crave normal. Now I'm craving chocolate.

The Swanson Meat Loaf Dinner image was from Miami NewTimes blogs.

Related Links:

Cream Cheese Brownies (for Mother’s Day)

The Last Butterscotch: In Memory of My Mother

“Shhhh. I’ll take it for later.”

I Only Bought it for the Hunger-Strike App

I finally bought an iPhone. I know. I’m the last one on the planet. Even the toddler next door has one. And he just got his first tooth. I really only wanted it for directions and a few apps like the Monterey Bay Aquarium’s Seafood Watch and ones that tell me what products have GMOs, pesticides, corporate greed and other neuroses-forward information. And when I heard about the iCouch app, I figured if I could fire my shrink, the iPhone would pay for itself.

The final straw was when I realized in order to be an effective food activist, you need the proper tools. I mean, where would Gandhi have been without his white sheet and sandals? That bright, pre-Monsanto Indian cotton was a beacon of light to the rest of the world. But today Gandhi would probably be sitting at a Starbucks in his hoodie, starting a petition on Change.org and using a weight-loss app for his hunger strike. One that monitors his calorie deprivation and dehydration levels, and then automatically downloads them to Twitter. Old-school Gandhi is hard to fathom. I don’t know how people starved themselves back then. Why did I wait? I’ve broken it down to the following 12 reasons:

1. I didn’t want to be a slave.

Isn’t checking email, Facebook and Twitter enough on a laptop? Do I need another gadget and more pings to induce new Pavlovian responses? Won’t I get all those pings mixed up and fetch my Frisbee when I’m supposed to be playing dead? How many masters must I answer to?

2. I didn’t want to be a slave driver.

The idea that I would be contributing to slave labor in a Chinese factory really put a worm in my apple. But since Apple hired the Fair Labor Association to audit the working conditions there, I don’t feel as bad. Now all my guilt is being directed at Siri. The way I order her around and tell her what to do? I picture her in a Chinese factory making 3¢ an hour while she Googles the nearest bagel for me. I can see her whole family in a cave, sharing a Top Ramen noodle.

3. Who needs brain cancer anyway?

Isn’t there a price to pay for all those electromagnetic rays swirling around your head like a swarm of warm bees? The ones that are left, anyway (see Colony Collapse Disorder). But there I go, projecting the future. Why can’t I just live in the high-frequency now like normal people?  

4. I didn’t want to be a party to the Tea Party.

Credo Mobile has sent me thousands of emails and direct mail solicitations telling me that AT&T and Verizon are the devil, contributing to extremist right-wing causes. And I believe them. Yet after all of Credo's offers for free phones (everything but an iPhone), I’m still an Apple girl. So If I’m gonna do it, I’m gonna do it on my terms. Or so I thought. Turns out it’s on AT&T or Verizon’s.

5. Must we know everything about each other?

Do you really need to know that I’m at Target buying toilet paper? I don’t care that I get some kind of points for announcing it on Facebook from my phone. Single or double ply is my business. And gentle reminder: not so interested when you’re buying yours either. Especially that brand that cuts down virgin rainforests.

6. I couldn’t commit to a two-year relationship.

I can’t commit to a dental appointment a month in advance. Yet for the next two years I’m supposed to pay for this thing that could fall in the toilet? What if I decide to go live off the grid in Siri’s hovel? Hopefully she’ll still get paid her 3¢ an hour for the next two years. That is if she didn’t drown.

7. I didn’t want to be a professional eight-year old.

You know how annoying it is when people are playing with their smartphones in meetings, including the managers? What happened to the days when you got in trouble for chewing gum in class? Of course, now that I have one, I find myself playing with it to subtly broadcast: Here’s what I think about your freaking time-suck of a meeting. Maybe I’ll finally get that promotion.   

8. I fear the new Darwinian order.

I see the future of man, and it’s not pretty. We’re hunched over, looking down with giant thumbs. Not only do we revert back to apes, we’re pretty much extinct from having crossed one too many streets, looking down.

9. Why should a phone be smarter than me?

Doesn’t it make you lazy and codependent for your phone to have all the answers? Actually, in the smarts department, Siri is not much of a threat. She rarely knows anything I ask her. Am thinking it’s malnourishment from sharing that noodle.

10. I can’t face FaceTime.

What if someone with an iPhone wants to videochat with me before I’ve combed my hair or brushed my teeth? Shouldn't that be illegal? I hear plastic surgeons are making a killing from FaceTime. I’m sure the new iJob or iLift isn’t far behind. And now that I’ve accidentally seen all my chins in that two-way camera, I’m thinking of suing Apple for pain and suffering.

11.  I didn’t want to make a decision.

Verizon, AT&T or Sprint? Voice, data plans, texts, sexts. It’s too much. How do you know how much sexting you’ll do? And is the sexting free between other sexters on the same plan, and can you see the sexters if they have an iPhone too? And let’s not even mention that two-way camera.

12. I didn’t want to know how many calories I was eating. 
I was perfectly happy living in denial until that night I ate a whole 3.5 oz. organic fair-trade dark chocolate bar and the next morning my pants wouldn’t button. That's when I said, "Get me that hunger-strike app ASAP." 

Is the Gefilte a Sustainable Fish?

Net-trawled gefilte from the waters of Boca Raton, Florida

I've often wondered about the sustainability of that favorite Passover fish, the gefilte. So I decided to do a little research by consulting the Monterey Bay Aquarium's Seafood Watch. Their pocket guides, web site and mobile apps help people make choices that promote healthy oceans by recommending which seafood items are “Best Choices,” “Good Alternatives” and ones to avoid. Listed in alphabetical order between the Flounder and Halibut, the Gefilte disappointingly merits a "Feh" (equivalent to a "Meh" if you're a Gentile).

Store-caught gefilte from the Albertson's in Boca Raton, Florida

Why the “Feh or Meh” rating? Whether net-trawled or store-caught, each method of gefilte fishing has sustainability problems. With the trawling method, the gefilte nets are dragged along the sea floor, uprooting the gefilte’s habitat, leading to the expulsion of the gefiltes from their homeland. The nets also collect everything in their path, including unwanted species like shellfish, which are not kosher and contaminate the gefilte. And while many gefiltes have been relocated to a contained area in either jelled or clear waters in Florida, store-caught gefilte season peaks in April, leaving store shelves empty the rest of the year.

To combat these issues, scientists at Monsanto are working on a genetically modified gefilte that has been engineered to reproduce year-round while repelling shellfish. By inserting flounder genes into the gefilte's DNA, it is said the new Geflounder^® will be approved in time for next year's Passover festivities with no further testing. Gefilte fishery executives are hoping this will at least upgrade the gefilte from a “Feh or Meh” to a “Bleh.”