L U N A T A L K with Eva Moon

How the Web Saved the Day

What did we ever do without the Interwebs? A promise of fine autumn weather and a very rare unprogrammed Sunday drew us out of the bat cave. We settled on a drive to Mount Rainier National Park and a hike along the Naches Peak Loop Trail - about four miles of surprisingly level walking with spectacular views of the mountain. However, a quick web check for Washington State travel alerts turned up a mudslide which had just buried SR 410 - DOT en route! - just 10 miles from the park. A disappointment to be sure, but nothing compared to the inconvenience of driving eighty miles first. (To say nothing of the inconvenience to the people whose homes were destroyed by the mud slide.)

Back to the web to draw on the collective wisdom of Facebook. Lot’s of great suggestions within minutes. We settled on the Washington Arboretum. A place not 20 minutes drive from home that we NEVER go to. (Well once. Twelve years ago. We drive through it on occasion on the way to Nishino - the best sushi.) A few clicks later we had an arboretum trail map in our hands and off we went.

Was the arboretum a satisfactory substitute for the majesty of Rainier? Well, no, but it definitely wasn’t a wasted day. I don’t have time to write twelve thousand words. The sun is still shining.

See more like that one:

• The Horse Summoner
• Live and Let Hive?
• It's not the heat...
• Neither snow nor...
• Hand me that Dutchman

Day 15: Which Way to the Egress?

My two-week liver cleanse is over… I think.

I feel good. The little nagging problems that led me to the program in the first place while not “cured” are relieved to a noticeable extent. I lost six pounds and am now three pounds below my scream number.

If I die tomorrow they’ll have to beat my liver to death with a stick.

I learned a lot:

• There’s a difference between habit and hunger
• There’s a difference between want and need
• Less can still be enough
• I have a shred self-control
• Have a backup plan for when self-control wears thin*
• Read labels
• Swiss chard is good stuff

What I haven’t figured out is my exit strategy. How do I keep that five pounds from pouncing the moment I turn my back? I can feel them lurking in the shadows. Snickering. Plotting. Their weapons? Bread… pasta… cheese… potatoes… wine… chocolate. They loom like a Samoan tsunami, threatening to sweep me out to a carbohydrate sea.

Michael Pollan’s guideline is: “Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.” Who could argue with the cheerful simplicity and sense of it? One could choose to classify brownies, crusty loaves, ice cream, marmalade and champagne as plants, but I don’t think that’s what he had in mind. I really never thought I could do it. Now I know I can. And when I do eat a brownie (as I surely will), it will be a treat.

*Blogging served me well. I couldn’t let down my imaginary readers. Regular programming will now resume. Thank you for your patience.

See more like that one:

• Day 13: Juice of Affliction, Chili of Salvation
• Day 11: The Wall
• Week 2: A Keeper Recipe
• Fucking Marketeers
• Saturday: the Indian Mother

Day 13: Juice of Affliction, Chili of Salvation

In the end days of my two-week liver cleanse I finally have the right juice. 100% cranberry and nothing but. Despite my anger at Oceanspray’s highly misleading labeling, I am now officially relieved I served most of my sentence in blissful ignorance. Actual cranberry juice is not just tart, it’s violently astringent. I poured a scant two inches in the bottom of my 32-ounce bottle and filled the rest with water. The juice is so concentrated the color did not change. The cleanse instructions were to dilute it until it’s ‘pale.’ I’ve emptied half the bottle and refilled with water three times and the color has progressed from ‘gore’ to ‘ruby,’ but it is still not anything approaching ‘pale.’ And the taste. Dear God. Every orifice puckered.

On the plus side, it’s only 70 calories a cup and a quart jar should last me until retirement.

In pleasanter news, I came up with a terrific new recipe to keep the wolves of desperation at bay. Definitely a keeper.

Eva’s Hang In There Chili

Cut meat into bite size pieces. I used about 2 lbs of boneless chicken breast because there was a good sale at Safeway, but I bet it would be great with pork loin.

Splash a blorp of olive oil into a big pot and saute the meat with garlic. Add lot’s of the tough sort of veggies - the kind that can take some abuse without falling apart. Here’s what I used, but don’t let it squelch your creative urges: Onions, mushrooms, carrot, red bell pepper, anaheim chilies (seeded. I used three.) all chunked.

Saute for a few minutes and then dump in two cans of diced tomatoes, oregano (plenty), chili powder (Lots. For Pete’s sake, it’s chili. Don’t skimp on the chili powder. There should be enough to thicken the juice.) Cover and simmer for about a half hour. Uncover and simmer some more until liquid thickens up.

Add the wimpy veggies: sliced zucchini and yellow crookneck squash and cook a little more. Adjust seasonings to taste. Add some cayenne if the anaheims didn’t spice it up enough.

This is a handy weapon indeed to have at hand when the hungry beast is on the prowl.

(Pro Garnish Tip: Diced avocado is an excellent thing to sprinkle on gazpacho too, when croutons are off the list.)

See more like that one:

• Day 15: Which Way to the Egress?
• Day 11: The Wall
• Week 2: A Keeper Recipe
• Fucking Marketeers
• Saturday: the Indian Mother

Day 11: The Wall

Coming into the home stretch of the two-week liver cleanse and things were going so well. I was feeling sassy, rested, energized, smug. But today… I hit the wall. The cranberry juice scandal has me snarling, the scale has been stuck at SN -.5 for the past few days despite being perfectly submissive the diet’s cruel whims. I’m feeling pitiful and whiny… and hungry.

When you’re eating mostly plants it can be a challenge to keep the larder stocked. I’m shopping several times a week, but it seems like the fridge is reduced to lettuce, celery, parsley and an onion in minutes. I should have just put my ass in the car today and groced. Instead I tried to keep working despite a growing sense of starvation. Not just hunger, but a kind of deep, desperate depletion.

It is the height of absurdity to even suggest that I, a prosperous middle-class American woman, has the least tiny shred of an idea what starvation is like. I have only to glance in a mirror to know I’m not actually depleted. But I prowled the kitchen like some ravening, hollow-eyed predator delirious for dinner to stray from the safety of its oven-cave already so I could pounce and rend it leaf from leaf. My husband kept his distance and I note he was never without a defensive spatula in his hand. Just in case.

An hour later, the tiger was temporarily mollified. I’ll make it. It’s only a few more days.

But come Monday… the beast will feed.

See more like that one:

• Day 15: Which Way to the Egress?
• Day 13: Juice of Affliction, Chili of Salvation
• Week 2: A Keeper Recipe
• Fucking Marketeers
• Saturday: the Indian Mother

Week 2: A Keeper Recipe

It’s the start of week two of my two-week liver cleanse and I feel like feel like I’m developing a close personal relationship with my liver. I name her “Livinia.” I’ve survived the weekend and emerged victorious. Weigh in: SN -1! (My scream number minus 1) I’ve lost four pounds in a week. One week to go and I’m definitely on a roll. (Well probably not a roll.)

I’m even starting to notice some of those other non-weight-related health benefits that were promised. I’m sleeping well, I feel good, systems that were balky have started to perk up. Some of the cravings have started to fade a little. I really want to drink something besides cranberry water. And while I’ve learned I can tolerate no salt, a little would be nice. But I feel less resentful this week.

The biggest headache is that it’s a pain to eat anything. I spend more time chopping than eating.

Eva’s On-Plan Chicken and Cabbage Paprikash

Chicken, cut into bite size pieces (I used 6 skinless thighs, but use whatever you like)
3-5 garlic cloves, minced
1 large onion, big dice
1/2 pound mushrooms, quartered
1/2 head cabbage, chunked
1 can diced tomatoes
Sweet AND hot paprika - lots
Herbs of your choice
a splash of lemon juice or vinegar

Saute the garlic and chicken in some olive oil and then add the onions and mushrooms and saute those too. When everything is good and sizzly on the edges, add the cabbage and the paprika. Don’t skimp on the paprika. Go buy a tin of good Hungarian sweet paprika and hot paprika. Use at least several tablespoons of each. I don’t measure, of course, but the dish is seriously red. If you really want to treat yourself get some smoked paprika too but don’t use too much as it will easily dominate the other flavors. Stir up the pan and then toss in the tomatoes, herbs and lemon juice. You don’t need much lemon juice. It’s there to balance the sweetness of the cabbage. Stir, cover and simmer. Check it every now and then. I didn’t find that more liquid was necessary. In fact, partway through I took the lid off so that the juice would cook down and get really thick.

If you’re not an insane liver cleanser like me, add a little salt and serve over rice. But it was seriously scrumptious all by itself. This is definitely a keeper.

Livinia is a happy little camper. I almost hate to burden her with the crap I used to eat after this week. But hey, no one gets to stay on vacation forever.

See more like that one:

• Day 15: Which Way to the Egress?
• Day 13: Juice of Affliction, Chili of Salvation
• Day 11: The Wall
• Fucking Marketeers
• Saturday: the Indian Mother

Fucking Marketeers

A week and a half into a two-week cleanse that requires cranberry juice but prohibits other juices I discover that “100% Juice Cranberry” is not the same as “100% Cranberry Juice.” Cranberry juice is not even the first thing in the ingredients list. Am now trying to determine how many molecules of actual cranberry I’ve actually consumed.

UPDATE: Oceanspray assures me their labels comply with government regulations.

See more like that one:

• Day 15: Which Way to the Egress?
• Day 13: Juice of Affliction, Chili of Salvation
• Day 11: The Wall
• Week 2: A Keeper Recipe
• Saturday: the Indian Mother

Saturday: the Indian Mother

Day 6 of the two-week liver cleanse and I’ve been stalwart, despite the deep cruelty of it (no starch, sugar, grain, legumes, caffeine, salt, CHOCOLATE, dairy, Diet Coke, alcohol or CHOCOLATE). I’ve been strong for nearly a week but today I faced my Waterloo: My dear friend, Latha invited us for her annual Navrathri celebration.

I hope to god Latha isn’t reading this because I lied to her tonight.

Latha was born and raised in Chennai, Tamil Nadu and is an exceptional cook who has treated us many times to the wonderful vegetarian dishes of southern India. I adore every bite, but let me tell you: there is not one single thing allowed on my cleanse at her house. Zip. It’s all colorful, fragrant rice and aromatic lentils and spicy chickpeas and herb-infused yogurt and mystery bits swimming in thick sweet milk. She goes all out for Navrathri, an annual nine-day festival that involves little doll scenes, a shrine full of smiling gods, singing, goodie bags containing a piece of fruit, a plate and several woody root pieces (don’t ask me why), and food. Mass quantities.

When we arrived I realized I’d forgotten to make a note of her apartment number, but I needn’t have worried about finding the right place. I just followed my nose.

I come from a long line of Jewish mothers. I know all about the culture of feeding up the hapless victims who enter your home. But let me tell you, any Jewish mother would have to be at the top of her game to beat an Indian mother. (I mean mother in the nurturing sense, rather than the biological sense.) To feed is to love.

I knew going in that in addition to fighting my own urges to go off the program, I’d have to fight off Latha. I laid my plans carefully.

This is my third Navrathri so I had the skinny I needed to pull off a caper worthy of Ocean’s Eleven. We arrived latish, dove into the crowd and went straight to the shrine room. A circle of be-sari-ed women sat on the floor. Everyone is asked to sing a song in front of the shrine. Doesn’t matter what, but you aren’t getting out of there without singing. The first time we were caught unprepared and ended up singing a college drinking song. This year I sang Mother and Child Reunion. Latha dotted my forehead with vermilion.

I waited and watched for just the right moment to head to the other rooms. It was critical to get through the dining room far enough ahead of Latha to cover a realistic eating window but not so early to tempt my own demons excessively. The party was busy and people were moving from room to room. I kept moving. There were a few close calls. Her husband asked me if I’d eaten. I said I was just heading there now. Various other aunties were alarmed by my empty-handedness. I praised Indian cuisine. I sweated as the minutes ticked by.

After a time (was it long enough?) Latha appeared at my side. “Did you eat?”

“Oh yes!” It wasn’t really a lie. I did eat… Before the party.

“Did you like it?”

“Everything’s fabulous!” I chirped.

“The rice has black sesame seeds. They are so good for your health. Do you want more? There’s plenty. Did you try the dessert? It’s roasted Pakistani vermicelli in sweetened milk I cooked for five hours.”

“Oh thank you, but I’m stuffed.”

“I can send some home with you.” (An offer I have never refused from her.) I finally confessed that I was on a diet and promised to take her up on it next time. She was disappointed but finally relented.

Phew!

And my reward for eating NOTHING? Next morning I had gained a pound.

See more like that one:

• Day 15: Which Way to the Egress?
• Day 13: Juice of Affliction, Chili of Salvation
• Day 11: The Wall
• Week 2: A Keeper Recipe
• Fucking Marketeers

Friday: The Gauntlet

Day 4 of the two-week liver cleanse I weigh in: SN+1. Damn! How is it possible to GAIN a pound when I’m eating nothing but twigs and grass?

The weekend begins with a one-two punch: Happy Hour with the girls followed by the annual City of Redmond Boards and Commissions Thank You Dinner.

I swept in to Happy Hour late and the table was already thick with frosty glasses of beer, ravaged hummus & pita plates, nachos and five happy girlfriends. Not good. I adore all these things. But I sabotaged potential sabotage by announcing my diet before even sitting down. Then I couldn’t possibly cheat because they would see. They all gushed about how great the diet was making my skin look. It was Bare Minerals Light Foundation, but whatevs. I nursed a club soda with lime for an hour.

(Pro Beauty Tip: Make a habit of traipsing about with no makeup on. Then when you suddenly appear with it on, everyone will be amazed.)

Then it was off to the lavish, star-studded Boards and Commissions dinner where I would get to hobnob with City Council members! First stop: the bar. Wine, soft drinks, water. Sigh. Can I have that water in a wine glass please? Lemon slice? Luxury! Next, the appetizer table. Last year it was cleanse-friendly poached salmon and crudites. This year? Bruschetta and brie. I scored a tiny cluster of grapes from the cheese tray and slunk away. At dinner I tucked the roll the server dropped on my plate back in the basket, ate the salad, the salmon and the three asparagus spears, left the garlic mashed potatoes (whimper!) and tried to maneuver the truffles (truffles!) behind the centerpiece at dessert time so I couldn’t hear them calling to me. My sole cheat was a splash of cream in my decaf. I did not talk about the cleanse. Not even with the Mayor.

When I finally made my escape I was feeling so pitiful and aggrieved and hungry that I drove straight to the market and splurged on a cabbage, two artichokes and a leek as big as my femur. Do I know how to live it up or what?

But the worst is yet to come.

See more like that one:

• Day 15: Which Way to the Egress?
• Day 13: Juice of Affliction, Chili of Salvation
• Day 11: The Wall
• Week 2: A Keeper Recipe
• Fucking Marketeers

Day 3: Eau de Cranberry

Day 3 of the two-week liver cleanse I weigh in: SN! I’ve hit my scream number! On the nose!

Three pounds in three days? I enjoy a moment of pure gloat before the doubts begin to creep in. Wait. I cut out salt. It’s just water. But even that can’t completely drain my elation and I announce the stupendous news to the wildly cheering crowd sipping his tea in the kitchen. “That’s great, honey.”

One of the mainstays of this plan is mass quantities of something cheerlessly called “cranberry water.” Where are the marketing geniuses who dreamed up “Crangrape Cocktail” and “Craisins”? Sitting on their asses, I bet. (Crasses? Cranasses?)

Cranberry water is simply 1 cup of unsweetened cranberry juice to 3 cups of filtered water. The diet calls for at least 8 glasses of the stuff a day and I was not looking forward to it. Juice is empty calories to begin with and cranberries aren’t exactly at the top of my guilty pleasures list. But it turns out that cranberry water is really, really good. It’s light, not too intense, refreshing. I’ve been slugging it down like a champ - even mixing it with seltzer in a wine glass at dinner. I’ve considered never going back to water. Until…

I made the tactical error of reading the label. One cup of unsweetened cranberry juice is 140 calories. Even diluted, I’m probably drinking 2-3 cups of the stuff a day easy. It’s not a big deal when the rest of my daily caloric intake adds up to about 12, but what about after? Then it starts to count. Will I really want to spend a quarter of my daily calories on juice? I should have known it was too good to be true. The siren song of Diet Coke is heard in the land once again.

In other developments, food is tolerable. A grilled pork chop, tossed green salad and grilled zucchini with lemon and dill make a perfectly fine dinner. I almost don’t feel completely whiny and deprived. But the weekend is looming and it promises to be a challenge, with four… FOUR… food-encrusted events on the calendar. There are dark forces at work to lure me from the light, the right, the cranberry-lined staircase to shining victory. “Oh, come on, honey, what’s the big deal if you have one plate?”

If it was only a weight-loss diet, I’d tend to agree. Just tack on another day or two. But here’s the thing. This is a cleanse. I’m flushing toxins out of my system and giving the old liver a well-earned rest and resnorgling all the phrangellators. Will a plate of rice undo this mystical process? Would I have to start over? I have no idea. I’m supposed to see some actual result beyond a lower number on the scale. If I cheat and the cleanse doesn’t work for me, I’ll never know if it would have… if only I hadn’t…

Plus smugness is a great seasoning.

See more like that one:

• Day 15: Which Way to the Egress?
• Day 13: Juice of Affliction, Chili of Salvation
• Day 11: The Wall
• Week 2: A Keeper Recipe
• Fucking Marketeers

Day 1: I can DO this

At the start of my two-week liver cleanse I weigh in: SN+3 (SN = Scream Number)

I’m not on this diet to lose weight. I’ve never been on a “diet” (Well that’s not entirely true, I did once try Atkins for several hours). I don’t even believe in weight loss diets and have droned on tiresomely about how diets don’t work and how you just have to eat healthy blah blah blah. But now I’m under doctor’s orders for two weeks for my health. It’s not a diet, see? But looking at it, I can smell victory over the Scream Number. Like countless dieters before me I can feel bright shiny hope in the air. Two weeks and I’ll reach my goal and then the sun will shine, I’ll have a kick in my step, my skinny jeans will gap at the waist! Who could resist?

I groce.

At the market, it’s a breeze. Whole swathes of the store are simply not there for me. Some swathes I eye wistfully: wine, bread. But what could match the smug feeling of arriving at the checkout stand with a cartload of greens? Ha! I think at the dumpy woman in front of me. She doesn’t have one thing in her cart that isn’t packaged in a box. I’m not only improving my health, I’m saving the planet! The hubris alone carries me at least as far as the parking lot.

Breakfast is a panful of sauteed veggies scrambled with two eggs and seasoned with herbs. Needs salt, but it’s tasty and filling. Later, I’ll have a tangerine. w00t!

Lunch is salad with turkey and then I make soup. The soup is excellent and there’s lots:

Eva’s Cleanse Soup

Put two quarts of low-sodium chicken stock and plenty of chicken parts in a big pot (I used 8 skinless chicken thighs, but use whatever you like) along with a bay leaf and other herbs. Don’t skimp on the herbs.

Simmer for a while and then add:

a handful of peeled garlic cloves
1 onion, diced
1 carrot, sliced
1 can diced tomatoes
a few handfuls of green beans
a bunch of sliced mushrooms
1/2 head of cabbage, sliced

Keep simmering until the veggies are soft and the chicken is falling off the bone.

Verdict: Needs salt, but it’s surprisingly tasty.

I’m not suffering from HUNGER so much as CRAVINGS: I have a habit of a diet Coke in the morning, a square of chocolate in the afternoon, a glass of wine with dinner, maybe a little popcorn in the evening. But it’s just two weeks. I can so do this.

I’m starting to get why people go on diets. In some ways, strict rules are easier than freedom. “No” is easier than “a little.”

See more like that one:

• Day 15: Which Way to the Egress?
• Day 13: Juice of Affliction, Chili of Salvation
• Day 11: The Wall
• Week 2: A Keeper Recipe
• Fucking Marketeers