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Tuesday, May 10, 2011

New Celebrity Endorses Leek-y Cauldron Diet

My heart can't take this, you guys.

Pamie (Pamela Ribon) commented on my blog. She tweeted the fug girls about me, who tweeted her back. She's following Yogurt on Tumblr (I said I'd get that link in every time).

Because everyone knows that the best way to express love is through money, I'm buying this right away. And then this.

So, to recap, not only has all this happened, but: Jennifer Egan is friends with me on facebook. I also know someone who knows someone who is her cousin.

I know someone who knows someone in The Decemberists.

I know someone who knows someone who knows Richard Siken.

Please don't act like you're not impressed. You're just embarrassing yourself.

Oh, and if that weren't enough, you know that roller derby I went to? I went with her and him. Yeah, that's right. ROLLER DERBY.

So now that I'm a celebrity, you're going to have start treating me accordingly.

But being a celebrity comes with certain responsibilities, such as looking your best. So I thought I'd share some tips.

First of all, no one goes on diets anymore. Diets are bad; we're supposed to enjoy and savor food. Like the Europeans do. I'm technically half-European, but I'm half-British and, for complicated historical reasons, people don't treat you as a gastronomical expert if you're British. When you try to serve them delicious things like marmite on toast, they get all squirrel-ly with you. (Sigh -- you Yanks. Marmite is delicious, y'all).

But if you're French, people listen to what you have to say about food, which is where this comes in. It's not a "diet" you see -- it's a commitment to wellness and savoring food and making things that taste good and are good for you. I made this in the past from her website, and I liked it. And in the process, I discovered this: the leek soup kick-off weekend.

So, you make this soup out of leeks (called "the magical leek soup") and you live on it for a weekend:

Leeks are a mild diuretic, and 48 hours or so of leek soup would provide immediate results to jump-start the recasting. For me, it was the start of a lifelong commitment to wellness as well as the beginning of my appreciation, my love, of leeks, about which there is much more to say. It is a trick I still use from time to time; do try it the first weekend.

But it's not a diet, y'all! Because it tastes delicious:

Both versions are so good, and an adventure for most palates, that you will have a very hard time seeing them as prison rations. Especially if these tastes are new to you, jot your impressions of flavor and fragrance in your journal. In time, this exercise will intensify your pleasures, and you may want to keep a regular diary of your experiences gastronomiques



Doesn't this sound maaahvelous? You get to eat a DELICIOUS soup for a weekend, savoring the delicate flavor and fragrance. You lose a little water weight, and you put yourself "on track" for a healthier way of living.

Excited, I purchased leeks and chopped them up, eager to turn these leafy greens into a delicious soup. Soup! So fancy. I've never made soup from scratch before.

Okay, so the instructions basically amount to this:


Leeks



plus


Water




=

Soup!

I was puzzled. My leeks and water in a big pot looked just like the picture! But when was the soup going to appear? How do leeks and water "magically" turn into soup?

So I boiled the water and let the leeks and water simmer. Then I peered into the pot, expecting magical transformation.

But you know what?

Leeks



+


Water


Does Not Equal =

Soup!

Instead:

Leeks




plus


Water



=


Okay, I get that calling it "magical leek water" doesn't have the same ring to it as "magical leek soup." But, let's call it like we see it, huh?

It's also harder to convince yourself that you're "not on a diet" when all you are living on leek water. With meals that consist of...leeks.

So...it was time to eat my first cup of leek water, er, soup (merde!). Okay, so it looked like leek water and smelled like leek water, but maybe, seasoned with salt and pepper and olive oil, it would taste delicate and delicious.

Nope.

You know what leek water tastes like?

Leek water.

You know what leek water with salt and pepper and olive oil tastes like?

Leek water with salt and pepper and greasy drops of olive oil floating on top.

Nevertheless, I decided to give it the ol' French college try, and persisted with the diet, er, revelatory recasting gastronomic experience for two days.

I did not keep a journal to record my experiences gastronomiques.

However, if I had, it would have gone something like this:

Day One:

AM: Just woke up! What a lovely, sunshiney morning. What shall I have for breakfast today? Gosh, I'm hungry.

Oh, wait. That's right. There is only one option for breakfast: leek water and leeks.

Heated up some leek water in the microwave; warm, it is somewhat comforting/okay. Served myself a leek for breakfast, "seasoned" with salt and pepper and olive oil. Leek simultaneously soggy and tough. Middle section of leek falls out and lands in leek water, splashing me.

PM: I'm hungry and have been working hard all morning! I should go get a snack! What shall I have for--

Oh, right.

You know what? I'm not that hungry. I'll just leave it.

Later PM: Really should have had several cups of leek water by now.

Later PM: Really, really should have had leek water by now. Blood sugar probably dangerously low. But when I think about leeks and leek water....ugh. Throat closes up.

Later PM: Hunger finally drove me to gulp down a shit load of leek water (not how you're supposed to do it). Started to eat another leek. Middle slid out again. Leeks soggier, now, but still tough. Only made it halfway through leek. You know what's kind of great about these leeks? They're so gross that after trying to eat one I not only don't want to eat more leek but am sort of off the idea of food entirely.

Evening: Went shopping with a friend for last-minute presents she needed. Have entered really floaty, beautific space. Feel profound sense of superiority to other people who are not living off leeks. Think about the real food I will eat one day, but in the way that one thinks about the maybe visiting India eventually (far away; dangerous; beautiful).

Friend asks me if I want to get ice cream.

Me: Er--I'm--

Friend: Are you on a diet?

Me: No! I'm just doing this--leek....cleanse thing.

Friend (giving me side-eye, but restraining from comment): What?

Me: Well, you see, you make this soup (lies! screams my brain) from leeks and then you eat the soup and the leeks for a weekend.

Friend (still restraining herself): Okay. Why?

Me: Um, kind of resets you? Like, you just feel good and then you eat better in the future--I guess. (Hunger causes head to swim).

Here's the thing: when you tell other people that you are living off leeks for several days, they don't think, "Wow, she's really exploring new avenues of gastronomic experience and learning how to truly appreciate food in a profound new way!"

They think: why are you on a crazy-ass diet?

Day Two:

AM: Beyond hunger now, thankfully. Genuinely enjoyed leek water this morning.

LATE AM: Tried to eat leek for lunch. Left most of it.

Mother: Why aren't you eating the leeks?

Me: I am.

Mother: But you left most of it.

Me: Because it tastes gross.

Mother: But aren't you supposed to eat it? What have you been eating if you've left behind most of the leeks? And isn't that kind of wasteful?

Me: Mother. I have had nothing but leek water for one and half days. I'd suggest that you not fuck with me.

Mother: Understood.

Early PM: Mother gone. Hunger has returned with a vengeance. Also, incalculably deep rage.

PM: Really hungry now. Refuse to even consider leek water and leeks. Will just tough it out till dinner. When I can, according to French lady:

You can have a small piece of meat or fish (4 - 6oz.–don’t lose that scale yet!), with two vegetables, steamed with a bit of butter or oil, and a piece of fruit.

See? I've even bought a pre-cooked chicken and some vegetables, to prepare. Let's just look at them in fridge to make sure they're still there.

A few minutes later:

Fell upon chicken, ripping drumstick from the rest of chicken with such force that all the meat actually fell off. Ate what was probably considerably more than 4-6 oz of chicken. A red haze enveloped my brain. Found bar of chili-and-seasalt-flavored chocolate and bit into it. Fell upon packet of salted cashews. Mouth dry and tingly. So worth it.

Later PM: Feel a bit nauseous, which is perhaps to be expected. Drank some of the leek water straight from the tupperware. Rage towards leek water entirely gone now I've eaten something else. In fact, sipped chilled right from the container, it's sort of a refreshing drink!

Later PM: Truly impressive gastrointestinal distress has begun.

Later PM: Oh, god.

Later PM: Drank some red wine, to distract self.

Later PM: Much worse, now.

Later PM: Intense craving for ginger, which makes sense, because ginger calms the stomach, right? Went to supermarket in search of ginger ale and had moment of panic/rage when I thought they might not have it. Located ginger ale, drank it in the car on the way home. Stomach much better now. See? Important to listen to your body.

Later PM: Consumed many antacids and more ginger ale. Going to bed, now.

So, in sum:

1) That sucked;
2) For what it's worth, I weighed more after the experience then before it;
3) Impossible to mention leek diet (yes, diet!) without sounding crazy;
4) The next day, went to Roller Derby and consumed:
a) Nachos
b) Cupcakes
c) Beer
d) Soft pretzel with Nacho cheese
So there was no "recasting" of my eating habits. However, all the above were delicious experiences gastronomiques.

Note: After consuming Nachos, I mentioned how great it was not to be living off leeks anymore. A few minutes later, the person I was with said, "Wait -- did you say you'd been living off leeks?" And looked at me as if this were nuts.

Which it is.

2 comments:

Ryan said...

Great post. However, I am left somewhat confused by your use of photograpghic images. Well, not actually by the use of the images themselves but, rather the content of the images.

In the photo of the pot of water - which thanks to your vivid description of the soup making process I can imagine will soon be boiling - there is what appears to be a quesadilla sandwiched between the stock pot and a frying pan. Is this part of the magical leek soup recipe mistakenly omitted from your description of the preparation? Perhaps this is the part of the recipe that provides the "magical" part of the magical leek soup?

My thoughts, if you would entertain them, are perhaps your failure to adhere to the diet was somehow sabotaged by the oversight of not boiling the leek water over a quesadilla which could have only served to improve the flavor of the soup? I would suggest you attempt this non-diet again but maybe this time pay closer attention to the details and I am certain you will find success.

Good luck!

Easy O said...

Ryan,

Thank you so much for your thought questions! I value any opportunity to provide insight into my creative and/or dieting process.

This is how I selected the picture of the pan of water (this may be somewhat hard to follow, so pay close attention):

-I googled "pan of water"
-I put the image on my blog

I actually -- she confesses with a blush -- DID NOT NOTICE the quesadilla squashed between the frying pan and pot of water, which -- now you draw attention to -- is really fucking weird.*

*both its presence and my failure to note it.

So. I can only conclude that the person who put the weird quesadilla-squashing picture up on the internet is going to track me down and sue the pants off me for stealing his/her image.

(I usually take pictures of food while I'm prepping it and most pictures on the blog are mine. However, I didn't for this particular case because -- I don't know. I just didn't. I refer you to T.S. Elliot, who once said that poor artists imitate and great artists steal.)

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