We have been sensitized to overdo it around the holidays, with turkeys and hams, overflowing casseroles of brown-sugared sweet potatoes topped with marshmallows, accompanied by thickly-sauced green beans, butter-rich croissants, all to be topped with pecan pie and egg nog. The cliche that it takes a week to prepare and 20 minutes to consume is as applicable to Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner as it is for the consequences of such indulgences. Notice that I call these dinners indulgences rather than celebrations, because we seem to be focused much more on fattening food selections in overwhelming volumes than we do on family, friends, companionship, or indeed, on the meaning of the holiday itself.
In a sense, I'm lucky. I have a rather small family, and have never been a raving fan of turkey (though I must admit that I have eaten some very succulent, magnificently prepared birds in my time). I'm also lucky that my idea of delicious does not involve chubby marshmallows floating on top of my food. My taste buds associate marshmallows with campfires. And just yesterday, I prepared a plate of green beans that absolutely blew my mind: sauteed in a tablespoon of butter (the real McCoy), with a splash of soy sauce. Period. I'm hard pressed to crave any other version of green beans.
Yet for some reason, we have been conditioned to try to replicate the feast that our forefathers shared with the Indians long ago with fatted birds, over-sugared "vegetables," and desserts that render us apoplectic rather than thankful. Notice I put "vegetables" in quotes, because we have somehow managed to strip their goodness and bury it under mounds of additives of various kinds.
But what about Christmas? How does the Christmas story fit in with a fattening dinner of ham? That one completely escapes me.
Lest you should think that I'm a complete grinch, let me assure you that I have done my fair share of enjoying - nah, devouring, relishing, licking-my-fingers-and-falling-asleep stints at many holiday dinners. I have stuffed myself silly; I have jealously ogled the freshly-baked bread (and then eaten it); I have adroitly "disappeared" when it came time to clear the table; I have sneaked surreptitious trips into the kitchen after all was over to take one more piece of pumpkin pie when I thought no one would notice; and I have taken leftovers home - and eaten them that very night! Yep, guilty.
Nowadays, I try to stay awake. Awareness is key.
The headline about that chocolate truffle is all too true. Sunday last, I was offered - and accepted - a piece of chocolate truffle after enjoying an enormous Greek salad. The salad was delectable, had all the trimmings, and satisfied my yen for something a bit sour. I also was in the mood for hot tea English style (with milk), which I find very soothing and calming. Then came dessert - my chocolate truffle. I did not intend to have "just one" chocolate truffle - I simply did. It seemed enough. It felt satisfying just as it was. We were occupied in conversation, and the focus was on each other, rather than on the goodies in the room.
Holidays are opportunities for celebration, which can come in many ways, from concerts to family dinners. They are not necessarily occasions to destroy our health or equanimity.
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