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All good things must come to an end.

It was a great month to test out Vegan eating. I was inspired, I learned, I tried all kinds of new foods and new preparations.

But in the end, Vegan eating just isn’t for me.

I never intended for my Vegan cleanse to be a diet or help me lose weight. Initially it was a response to my overindulgent holiday consumption. A way to jumpstart my body back into its usually healthy rhythms. But I’d always secretly wanted to test it out – to see if I’d feel healthier and have more energy. To find out whether I could cure my occasional insomnia.

But here’s what ultimately happened: I felt like I was missing something. I felt out of balance and not completely myself. Despite the guacamole and French fries, I felt like I was on a diet, and not a particularly healthy one.

This was the most eye opening lesson about my Vegan cleanse: yes, you can be Paleo, Vegan, Dairy Free or Gluten Free, but don’t expect those diets to be inherently healthy. You still need to make smart food choices.

Before my cleanse, I had a vivid impression that my month of Vegan eating would transport me to a fruit and vegetable fantasyland; a land where food choices are made wisely, automatically, and temptation is minimized.

Fruits and vegetables certainly live in this place, but on your journey you’ll encounter white breads, heavy oils, tortilla chips, candy and alcohol. And you might find yourself reaching for these items more often than you’d like.

While I had the purest intentions as I set out on my cleanse, I realized that given my busy schedule, convenience is a huge driver of choice. And I’m not talking about McDonald’s. I’m talking about cracking two eggs into a pan, making some toast, and in less than 5 minutes, a hearty breakfast or lunch is ready.

For a snack, cheese on whole grain crackers, yogurt, or a few slices of salami once did the trick. This month, I tended to reach for fruit or vegetables, hummus, or avocado. I quickly tired of hummus and avocado, and found that fruit or vegetables alone didn’t satiate. I’m sure that far more Vegan-friendly snack options exist, but this, in the end, is what I ate. These are the foods that felt the most intuitive. The easiest, the fastest, the types of food that are closest to what my former self would have eaten.

Eating Vegan also meant that I had to think more about meal planning. And the more I thought about food, the more I ate.

Having come from a diet-heavy period in my 20s, I now realize that the reason they failed was because they took too much work and conscious planning. I was always thinking about food, getting hungrier by the minute.

Food shouldn’t feel like work. Poring over ingredients and food choices is work. Combing through cookbooks and weeding out recipes that call for cheese or meat: work. Heading to the grocery store knowing that I can’t buy half the items stocked: work.

Let me be clear – it wasn’t work in the negative sense of the word, often it was fun work. But work that made my diet feel less natural and made me eat more? That just didn’t compute.

Maybe if I’d given it a chance, eating a Vegan diet would have started to feel more intuitive. But if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Barring holiday over indulgences, I have a fairly healthy diet. I eat plenty of salads, lean proteins, and don’t go overboard on sweets. I avoid preservatives like the plague, I favor homemade versions of store bought staples, and I’ve done enough cooking to know that it’s actually faster to make dinner at home than order takeout.

And now comes my gut-wrenching confession: because I wasn’t feeling as clean and renewed as I’d hoped, I started to cheat.

It all started with some eggs. Fresh from the farm, each egg a different size and a different color. The outside of the eggs smudged with a trace of dirt. I saw them at the store and knew that I needed them. Even if it meant keeping them in my fridge untouched for the remaining week of my cleanse.

But my craving for the eggs took over. I had conversations in my head, I weighed pros and cons. In the end, 10 minutes after I arrived home with my groceries, I gave in. I poached an egg and inhaled it with a slice of toast.

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beets 227

Because of our blood orange success, I was convinced that gore was the way to go when introducing bright red fruits and vegetables. I was wrong. I highly, highly recommend that you don’t offer new foods by saying this: “hey kids, we’re doing a mystery food tonight and it’s going to be bloody!”

The beets were rejected pretty quickly. Sam and Emma liked them for a tenth of a nanosecond before deciding that beets were horrible. Talk of garbage came up a few times, which I understand. Beets have a certain earthy quality; getting accustomed to them can take a while.. I’m not down and out on beets yet though… they have potential. Next time I’ll try to spruce them up with a little blood orange juice. We’ll see what happens….

ME: Hey what is this?

SAM: It’s not bloody.

LAUREN: I would guess that it’s reddish black on the inside.

ME: But what is the name of this?

LAUREN: Blood orange?

ME: It’s not blood orange.

EMMA: It looks like a little bit like juice.

ME: A little bit right, it’s really dark red like your red juice.  It’s like solid juice. Like your favorite, like cranberry juice.

EMMA: Yeah, I’ll smell it. (Sniffs) Yummy!

ME: Yummy? Does it smell so good?

EMMA: Yeah.

ME: What does it smell like?

EMMA: I want to eat it.

ME: Well let’s give everyone a chance to smell it first. Sam, what does it smell like?

SAM: Garbage.

ME: What do you think it smells like?

LAUREN: Yummy!

ME: OK, so two yummies and a garbage.

EMMA: I want to eat it!

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test over

Sam had a test last week. A standard issue Kindergarten prep test, a necessary evil, on par with a trip to the dentist. There’s only so much you can do to get a 4-year old ready for something like this. All you can do is hope is that your kid is in a good mood, well rested, and has eaten breakfast.

I did what I could to check the boxes. Starting the night before with a trip to 16 Handles. Sam clowned around, pretending to be a lobster and seeking attention. Emma was an easy target and was more than willing to pet him in between each bite. “Good lobster…”
emma

Fortunately, he did sleep well that night and ate a big breakfast in the morning.

“Sam”, I said, “what would you like as a treat when you’ve finished with The Puzzler?” The Puzzler of course being the Scary Test Lady, but those words are never uttered. We opened the door to the school.

“A donut”, he said.

When you’re a kid, the most highly coveted prize in the world is a donut. It’s an 89 cent wonder. But it was well-deserved, the frozen yogurt, the donut, all of it. The little guy had tried his heart out.

Lucky for Sam, I had one more surprise in store…..

“I have something special planned” I said as we wandered back home. “We’re going for a scoot around the city.”

Once home, I pulled out the pair of black and neon mittens I’d hidden in my room. “These will keep your hands warm.”

“They strap onto my scooter?!” Oh yes they do little man…

So off we went on our scooter adventure, heading down 7th Avenue.

street

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chili 227

I got a message on Facebook last week from a relative. “Hey, we’re going to be in town for the Super Bowl, are you around that weekend?”

Two questions: 1. The Super Bowl is in New York this year? 2. What weekend?

To give you an analogy, this kind of question is like me writing to a friend in San Francisco to say “Hey, I’m showing up for the Point Reyes Blue Cheese Festival, are you around that weekend?”

I did consider asking him for specific dates, but remembered my trusty resource Google. Google is that friend to whom you direct all of your embarrassing questions. As long as you clear your history. You don’t want your significant other to see that you’ve been researching Syphilis. That happened to good friends of mine (it was an honest mix up, I won’t get into it) but it serves as a cautionary tale: keep that history clean.

I’ve formed a strong relationship with Google over the years, sometimes I think I expect a little too much; I’ve caught myself asking open-ended questions, like “will I have another baby?” or “will my dinner guests like salt cod?” But for the garden variety questions, Google’s always had my back.

Armed with information, I quickly responded “we’re in town!”

It’s not that I was completely unaware that something vaguely footballish was going on. Facebook was abuzz. Taunts were thrown. My sister’s update on Jan 19 read: “Are you watching Brady peeing in his Gucci panties? #BRONCOSSSSSSSSSS”.

So I did what any smart person with a food blog would do – I immediately logged onto Pinterest and created a Super Bowl board, and started collecting recipes for all of those manly dishes that people seem to eat at this time of year. The wings, dips, chilis, nachos, and of course the little football-shaped deviled eggs.

Who knows, maybe I’ll throw my own Super Bowl party down the road. It sounds like fun. I’ll just wear earplugs so that I won’t have to listen to the sound of football on TV. Am I the only one who feels this way? I’d watch golf over football any day. I don’t even golf, but I love the velvet hills, the soothing voices, and the conspicuous absence of sweat.

chilicups 226
chilitoppings 225

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OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

There may or may not have been talk about Asian pear tasting like raw potatoes. But strangely enough it wasn’t a deal breaker. Personally Asian pears aren’t my favorite variety. They’re a little hard, a little woody. Like biting into a birch tree. I like my pears to be on the softer side, the kind of fruit that gives with gentle pressure like a perfect summer peach. But despite my own leanings, the kids loved it.

ME: Guys, the mystery food that we’re doing today is called….

EMMA: What’s that mommy?

ME: This is our mystery food.

EMMA: Yew, I don’t like that.

LAUREN: Emma, don’t say that.

ME: Called….

LAUREN: Pear?

ME: Yeah, what kind of pear?

SAM: A leech pear!

ME: What?

SAM: A leech pear!

ME: A leech pear? No. It’s called an Asian pear. It’s from Asia. Kind of like persimmon but different. Let’s smell it first. Let’s see if it smells like a regular pear. What do you think?

SAM: No. It smells like flowers.

ME: Flowers?

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