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Archive for the ‘Eats’ Category

I finally found the highest use for Biscoff Spread, often called “Europe’s alternative to peanut butter” (I thought that was Nutella).

Biscoff Spread, which consists of Biscoff cookies smashed up with oil and a few other ingredients, is enjoyed on everything from apple slices to crackers to, well, spoons. I had been reading about it for a while, but when my sister-in-law sent a jar my way earlier this year, I found myself ill-prepared to experiment with it. I spread it on a couple of Ritz crackers and a few slices of banana, but I was underwhelmed — cinnamon-filled and smooth, it was tasty, but it didn’t “wow” me.

This past Saturday, however, after spending two hours making cat food (Haggerty weekends are OFF THE HOOK, y’all), I found myself looking for a snack. The most ridiculous thought crossed my mind: What if I put some of that cookie spread on a chocolate sandwich cookie? (And yes, I totally mean Oreos, only what I had was Publix-brand chocolate sandwich cookies, which are pretty much just as good and every few months you can get them for a penny on Wednesday with a $10 purchase and a coupon from the Huntsville Times.)

And just like that, I knew that I not only had come up with a ridiculous snack pairing, but that I was also totally going to try it.

Sorry. The most delicious pairing for Biscoff Spread is not a delicate, low-calorie rice cake, or a good-for-you chunk of fruit, or even a low-fat cracker. No. The item onto which you should spread this high-fat, high-sugar concoction? A cookie.

That’s right: Put some cookie spread on a cookie. Double the cookie-ness of your snack. Risk tearing a cookie-shaped hole in the snack-time continuum.

Just try it.

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This loaf of cinnamon sugar bread almost never came to be, which would have been quite unfortunate, because it was a thing of perfection, with a crunchy top and soft interior laced with more than a mere hint of cinnamon sugar.

The first time I tried the recipe, the top wasn’t crunchy, and the interior was a wet, soupy messy of cinnamon sugar and raw batter. It fell apart coming out of the loaf pan, and I had to cut it into pieces before bringing it to the office to save myself the embarrassment of co-workers trying to cut/scoop servings for themselves.

The concoction’s only saving grace? It was, beneath the disfigured clumps and raw batter, utterly delicious.

The original recipe called for all of the cinnamon sugar mixture (a full 1/3 cup of sugar and 2 teaspoons of cinnamon) to be sprinkled in one layer on top of half of the batter, then topped with the rest of the batter. The cinnamon sugar mixture seems to have liquefied and prevented the batter immediately surrounding it from baking completely.

I decided to give the recipe one more chance, figuring that if I could make smaller layers of cinnamon sugar, maybe the batter would have a chance to cook more evenly.

I didn’t get the chance until this weekend, when I babysat my nieces while my sister-in-law had a much-deserved girls weekend out. Given my ineffective Barbie doll skills (the girls got pretty upset when I couldn’t remember the names of the dozen dolls NOT named Barbie) and the cold weather preventing us from easily pursuing outdoor, more tomboyish activities, I decided that a baking project was in order.

Part of the reason I wanted this recipe to work was its ease of preparation: You literally stir seven ingredients together for the batter and then layer it in the loaf pan with cinnamon sugar. No mixer. No sifting. No melting.

After having my charges stir the batter and shake the cinnamon sugar mixture together thoroughly, I poured what I figured to be about a third of the batter into the bottom of the greased and floured pan. I then had my nieces spoon about a third of the cinnamon sugar over the batter. I added another layer of batter, then almost all of the cinnamon sugar save for about 2 tablespoons. I added the rest of the batter, then sprinkled on the rest of the cinnamon sugar.

50 minutes in the oven plus 10 minutes on the wire rack and the loaf slid right out of the pan. After allowing the bread to cool for about 20 more minutes while watching Scooby-Doo (the 2002 live-action version), we had cinnamon bread and hot chocolate out of my childhood Tupperware tea set (now theirs).

Babysitting perfection.

The original recipe came from A Whisk and a Prayer via Pinterest.

Cinnamon Sugar Bread

Adapted from A Whisk and a Prayer

  • 1/3 cup white sugar
  • 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 tablespoon baking powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1 cup white sugar
  • 1 egg, beaten
  • 1 cup milk
  • 1/3 cup vegetable oil

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Lightly grease a 9×5-inch inch loaf pan (I also cut a piece of parchment paper to fit on the bottom for extra non-stick protection). Stir the cinnamon and 1/3 cup sugar together.

In a large bowl, combine flour, baking powder, salt and 1 cup sugar. Add the egg, milk and oil. Stir until just moistened.

Pour approximately a third of the batter into the loaf pan. Sprinkle with about a third of the cinnamon sugar. Top with another third of the batter, then almost all of the remaining cinnamon sugar. Pour the rest of the batter in the pan and sprinkle the rest of the cinnamon sugar on top.

Bake in preheated oven for 45 to 50 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into center of the loaf comes out clean. Let the bread cool in the pan for 10 minutes before removing it to a wire rack to cool completely.

The original recipe advises you to wrap the loaf in foil and let it sit overnight before slicing. If you can endure the scent of freshly baked cinnamon bread wafting through your home without cutting a piece off until the next day, then go for it. If not, enjoy your snack today AND tomorrow.

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I gave up on finding an authentic, reasonably priced king cake in Huntsville this year. The king cakes at Publix have gone downhill since the days in which the bakery reportedly imported simple, unbaked cakes from Louisiana, baking and decorating them in the days leading up to Mardi Gras. This year, the offerings were filled with cream cheese in various artificial flavors, and I’m tired of bakeries trying to complicate the king cake. It’s SUPPOSED to be relatively simple. By the time you combine a thick, sweet filling with powdered sugar icing AND a heap of colored sugar on top, you’ve got a sickly sweet concoction that in no way resembles a traditional king cake.

Even Earth Fare got in on the act, promising me a king cake complete with apple filling.

No thanks.

After last year’s debacle with frozen bread dough, I decided to simply dedicate an afternoon to the old Southern Living recipe that my mom found some 20 years ago. It had been too long since the husband and I had enjoyed the real thing, and I had volunteered to make a king cake for my co-workers in lieu of suffering through some sort of monstrosity filled with artificially flavored goop.

I’m never convinced that I haven’t added too much flour in my efforts to make the dough manageable. My biggest complaint about this recipe is that it calls for flour by volume rather than weight; measuring flour using the scale is much more accurate than using measuring cups. The cake turned out fine, however, with both the husband and the co-workers giving it rave reviews.

I’d still give somebody $20 to make an acceptable king cake for me, but apparently I’m not going to be able to do that in Huntsville anytime soon.

King Cake

(Adapted from Southern Living)

Makes 2 cakes

  • ¼ cup butter
  • 1 (16-ounce) container sour cream
  • 1/3 cup sugar
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 2 (.25-ounce) envelopes active dry yeast
  • 1 tablespoon white sugar
  • ½ cup warm water (100 to 110 degrees)
  • 2 eggs
  • 6½ cups all-purpose flour, divided
  • ½ cup white sugar
  • 1½ teaspoons ground cinnamon
  • 1/3 cup butter or margarine, softened
  • Frosting (see below)
  • Colored sugars (see below)

Cook the first four ingredients in a saucepan over low heat, stirring often, until the butter melts. Cool the mixture to between 100 and 110 degrees.

Dissolve the yeast and 1 tablespoon sugar in ½ cup warm water in a large bowl; let stand 5 minutes. Add the butter mixture, eggs and 2 cups flour; beat at medium speed with an electric mixer for 2 minutes or until smooth.

Gradually stir in enough remaining flour to make a soft dough.

Turn dough onto a lightly floured surface; knead until smooth and elastic, about 10 minutes. Place in a well-greased bowl, turning to grease the top. Cover and let rise in a warm place (85 degrees), free from drafts for 1 hour or until doubled in bulk.

Stir together ½ cup sugar and cinnamon; set aside. Punch dough down; divide in half. Turn one portion out onto a lightly floured surface; roll to a 28-x-10-inch rectangle.

Spread half each of the cinnamon mixture and the softened butter on the dough. Roll the dough, jellyroll fashion, starting at the long side. Place the dough roll, seam side down, on a lightly greased baking sheet.

Bring the ends together to form an oval ring, moistening and pinching the edges together to seal. Repeat with remaining dough, cinnamon mixture and butter.

Bake at 375 degrees for 15 minutes or until golden. Decorate with bands of frosting, and sprinkle with colored sugars.

Note: This year, I spooned the frosting into a zip-top bag, cut off a corner and squeezed the frosting onto the cake. This gave me a much neater, more even application than I would have gotten by simply drizzling it on the cake. Also, sprinkling the sugar on top will make a HUGE mess. You’re going to want to sprinkle the sugar on the king cake far away from the edge of the countertop or table so you don’t get sugar on the floor. Moisten a couple of dish towels with water and place them on the surface beneath the cake platter (cookie sheet, whatever) that’ll be holding the cake as you sprinkle on the sugar.

Frosting

  • 3 cups powdered sugar
  • 3 tablespoons butter, melted
  • 3 tablespoons milk
  • ¼ teaspoon vanilla extract

Stir together powdered sugar and melted butter. Add milk to reach desired consistency for drizzling; stir in vanilla.

Note: The original recipe advises you to divide the frosting and tint it green, yellow and purple, but since you’re going to coat it with colored sugar anyway, you’ll do just as well to leave it white.

Colored Sugars

  • 1½ cups white sugar, divided
  • 2 drops green food color
  • 2 drops yellow food coloring
  • 2 drops red food color
  • 2 drops blue food coloring

Place ½ cup sugar and green food coloring in a jar or zip-top plastic bag; seal.

Shake vigorously to evenly mix color with sugar. Repeat procedure with ½ cup sugar and yellow food coloring.

For purple, combine red and blue food coloring before adding to remaining ½ cup sugar.

Note: A couple of years ago, I discovered that Wal-Mart made much prettier, more vividly colored sugar than I could. My colored sugar was always paler than the sugar I saw in bakeries, and it was decidedly non-sparkly. You might have to use blue instead of purple, but you’ll live.

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I’ll forever be thankful to my mother-in-law for introducing me to the easiest appetizer I’ve ever served: marinated artichoke hearts.

You’re probably thinking, wow, isn’t it kind of tricky to trim artichokes? And wouldn’t you have to marinate them for a few hours before serving? Wait a minute, wouldn’t you have to cook them, too?

The answer to all of those questions is “yes.” Which is why I simply open a jar of Vigo’s marinated artichoke hearts and carve them up into bite-size pieces, which I then serve with the fanciest crackers I can dig out of the pantry. (Why Vigo? It’s in stock. There aren’t exactly dozens of brands on the supermarket shelves vying for my business.)

After all, if I’m serving a meal that’s elaborate enough to justify an appetizer, chances are I’ve already spent a couple of hours in the kitchen prepping the other dishes. This is one culinary shortcut that I find completely acceptable.

And best of all? If it’s just me and the husband, they’re mine. All mine. Leftovers get chopped up into even smaller pieces to use as a salad ingredient throughout the week, and the marinade itself makes a delicious (if somewhat thick and rich) salad dressing.

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Rarely do I give a failed Internet-based recipe a second chance. There are simply too many other recipes to try, and unless I can point to something I know I did wrong (it happens), I’ll usually just write off such failures as lessons learned.

Roasted chickpeas, though? I WANTED the roasted chickpeas to work. So when the first batch came out half-crunchy and half-mushy a couple of weeks ago, I knew I had to try again. The few (very few) roasted chickpeas that were roasted to perfection were ROASTED TO PERFECTION. They were tiny, crunchy bombs of flavor.

I found two problems with my first attempt:

  1. The original recipe called for what seems like A LOT of olive oil: 1.5 tablespoons for one can of chickpeas. I was left with oil oozing around on the parchment paper beneath the coated chickpeas.
  2. My oven can be somewhat unpredictable. It will bake three tiny loaves of zucchini bread to utter perfection within the recommended recipe time, or it will take twice as long as it should to bake a pan of cookies. And sometimes it’ll burn those cookies on the bottom without leaving a hint of gold on their pale little tops.

So, less olive oil and more time in the oven seemed to be in order. Also, I decided to add the seasoning BEFORE roasting, since, in theory, perfectly roasted chickpeas would be dry to the touch and wouldn’t allow the seasonings to stick.

A word on the seasonings: You can use anything you like. I used Tony Chachere’s Original Creole Seasoning. I’m not sure why you would use anything else, but I imagine Greek seasoning would also work. Crafty Kristen recommends a teaspoon or two of cracked black pepper and a generous sprinkling of sea salt.

This batch turned out perfectly — even the biggest chickpeas roasted to crunchy perfection.

Crispy Roasted Chickpeas

Adapted from Steamy Kitchen

  • One 15-oz. can chickpeas
  • Olive oil
  • Salt/seasoning mixture

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees (I might go up 25 degrees next time).

Drain the chickpeas in a colander and rinse with water. Rub the chickpeas, a couple of handfuls at a time, between two paper towels to loosen the thin skin on them. Remove the skins until you get tired of removing the skins, then move on. Your roasted chickpeas will be delightful with or without the skins.

Spread a piece of parchment paper out on a baking sheet. Or don’t — hey, I’m not washing your dishes. Spread the chickpeas out on the parchment paper. Put a little olive oil in your hands and coat the chickpeas lightly — you want just enough oil to allow the seasoning to stick. Sprinkle on the seasoning. Less is likely more.

Steamy Kitchen’s original recipe said to roast the chickpeas for 30-40 minutes, but my oven took more like 50 minutes. Stir them around about halfway through. The chickpeas will turn a deep golden brown when they’re done, but the best way to check for doneness is to grab one of the bigger ones, cool it off for 30 seconds and eat it. If it’s crunchy, you’re in business.

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Why in the world have I NOT been making guacamole all my life?

The answer, of course, is that I spent most of my life eating (or, more specifically, not eating) the mediocre guacamole served in so many Mexican restaurants.

Overprocessed into a perfectly smooth paste and refrigerated well past the point of freshness, restaurant guacamole has always been something I avoided. I never ordered it, and never considered making it at home.

Thankfully, a restaurant finally changed my mind on guacamole a couple of years ago. When a friend ordered the dish at Cantina Laredo, the server made it tableside, mashing several fresh ingredients together with a fork. It was delicious. It was chunky. It was FRESH.

I thought maybe it was only my taste buds maturing, so in a couple of weeks I tried the guacamole at another Mexican place.  Nope. Back to stale and pasty. I realized that unless I witnessed the smashing of the avocados, the guacamole was likely to disappoint.

Still, I didn’t attempt to make my own. The husband wasn’t enthusiastic about the dish, and, having never dealt with avocados before, I was a little awed by the process.

Fast forward to last week. Somehow, guacamole is an official Super Bowl food, and Earth Fare was offering me two free avocados with a $5 purchase.

Please. I can spend $5 in Earth Fare without ever leaving the Wall o’ Grains.

I looked for a simple recipe, although now I realize that guacamole, like pico de gallo, is one of those dishes that doesn’t require a recipe so much as a healthy willingness to taste as you go. (Check.)

I settled on the California Avocado Commission’s recipe for Guacamole Autentico, which seemed beginner-worthy. It was a cinch to put together (turns out it’s extremely easy to work with avocados), and I thought it was delicious (the husband is still not a guacamole fan, although he readily ate a couple of bites to be nice).

Lime and cilantro are dominant flavors in this recipe, and not everybody likes cilantro. I would probably use two Serrano chilies instead of one next time for more heat, or I might just switch to a jalapeno. And I could totally live without the tasteless bits of Roma tomato, but a REAL tomato may have potential. I forgot to add hot pepper sauce, and I used plain old salt and pepper instead of sea salt and white pepper — still delicious. I mashed it all together with a potato masher, not a fork, because I was hungry and the fork method was taking forever. Just don’t get too overzealous with the mashing no matter what you use.

Guacamole Autentico

Recipe from the California Avocado Commission

4 servings

  • 2 ripe, fresh California avocados, peeled and seeded
  • 1⁄4 tsp. ground cumin
  • 1⁄2 ripe, medium Roma tomato, seeded and diced
  • 1⁄4 cup minced sweet white onion
  • 1 Serrano chili, seeded and minced
  • 1⁄4 cup cilantro leaves, chopped
  • 2 Tbsp. fresh lime juice
  • Hot pepper sauce
  • Sea salt, to taste
  • White pepper, to taste

Cut avocado into large chunks and mash coarsely in large bowl with a fork. Add remaining ingredients and blend gently; leaving some small chunks is fine. Taste and adjust seasoning with more pepper sauce, salt and pepper if desired.

Serve immediately. Eat with enthusiasm.

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First, an admission: I don’t think I’ve ever eaten Chili’s salsa, so I can’t tell you whether this Chili’s Copycat Salsa recipe that I found via Pinterest tastes like the real thing or not.

As a certified salsa junkie, I CAN tell you that I’ll be making this recipe again.

I love making fresh pico de gallo, but there’s only so much time a girl can dedicate to chopping onions, jalapenos and tomatoes into tiny little pieces. (Also, the inferiority of grocery store “tomatoes” has simply become unacceptable. When a potent blend of jalapenos, lime juice and cilantro doesn’t hide your insipidness, you’ve reached new lows as an ingredient.)

I can live with store-bought salsa, but it’s just so nondescript. Brands advertised as spicy are inevitably as plain as can be, and I wouldn’t be able to tell one brand from another in a blind taste test even if I had money riding on it.

The canned tomatoes in this recipe caught my eye, since they meant I wouldn’t be rewarding mediocrity in the produce section. I couldn’t actually find a small can of jalapenos, but I have to admit that maybe I didn’t try too hard after I spotted the big jar of sliced jalapenos. Toss and taste, unless you’re scared of heat.

All the ingredients blended together quickly in the tiny food-processor attachment that came with my immersion blender (I only made half the recipe).

I’ll warn you: The end product has what some might find an overwhelming cumin flavor. It’s what makes this concoction distinctive, but it might not be for everyone.

The heat from the jalapenos is subtle, kicking in a couple of seconds after you bite into a chip filled with salsa. Two days later, however, the salsa seems to be packing a little more heat, making me wonder how long I could safely store this mixture in the fridge to allow it to achieve maximum intensity.

Chili’s Copycat Salsa

Recipe from Six Sister’s Stuff

  • 2 14.5-oz. cans whole tomatoes, drained
  • 1 4-oz. can diced or whole jalapenos (not pickled)–about 4-5 jalapenos (or less if you don’t like a lot of spice)
  • 1/4 cup yellow onion, cut into quarters (you can also use dried minced onion)
  • 1 tsp. garlic salt
  • 1/2-1 tsp. salt
  • 1 tsp. cumin
  • 1/2 tsp. sugar
  • 1 tsp. lime juice

Puree all ingredients in a food processor until smooth.

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Photo courtesy of Bakers Royale

Saturday, I applied a popular exercise mantra — “No pain, no gain” — to cooking.

The gain — delicious Mini Pommes Anna — was totally worth the pain.

I had purchased the entry-level OXO mandoline slicer several months ago, partly so I could make some version of pommes Anna, which is simply very thin slices of potato layered and baked with butter. (And if you’re one of those people who can make paper-thin slices of veggies with a knife, congratulations. You have mad knife skills. I do not.) I was in the middle of my final semester of grad school, however, so the mandoline has been resting in the gadget drawer.

The semester eventually drew to a close, and Pinterest pointed me to this intriguing recipe for smaller, individually sized versions of Pommes Anna, courtesy of Naomi at Bakers Royale. The mandoline finally made its debut.

And boy, was it angry.

Seriously, I underestimated the danger of the mandoline (and found out that just about everybody has a story about somebody taking their fingertip off with one). Having failed to keep the potato attached to the finger-protecting holder mechanism, I ran it across the blade by hand, which worked great right up until the moment I cut my thumb.

I immediately initiated Standard Operating Procedure for kitchen injuries:

  1. Don’t bleed in the food.
  2. Evaluate the injury.
  3. Wash the injury with soap and water.
  4. Wrap the injury with paper towel to try to stop the bleeding, or at least keep the blood out of the food.
  5. Soldier on. You’re not going to make more blood by starving yourself.

It was a minor cut, although it was a heck of a bleeder.

The potatoes were simply divine. The mandoline had cut them into sheer little circles that, when tossed with butter and layered with kosher salt and pepper in a muffin pan, baked up into a luxurious side dish. The husband commented more than once on these buttery and creamy little stacks of goodness.

And yes, there were only four ingredients: Yukon potatoes, butter, salt and pepper. I cut the recipe in half, so it made six. I figured two stacks per person was about right (they compress while baking, so each one ends up being about 1.5 inches high). We each ate a third stack, partly because they were so delectable and partly because they didn’t seem like the kind of food that reheats properly.

And one of us was making replacement blood, after all.

They were definitely a welcome change from mashed potatoes, which is what I usually serve with meat loaf (and more on that fabulous meat loaf later).

As for the mandoline, I think I should probably upgrade to the model with non-slip feet (seems like an upright model might be safer than one that “hooks” over a bowl). Also, a couple of friends pointed me toward Kevlar gloves made for use with mandolines, so those might be showing up in the gadget drawer, too. (Actually, when the first friend, Crafty Kristen, mentioned Kevlar gloves, I kind of thought she was joking — LOL Kevlar gloves for the clumsy cook, very funny. But no. They are real. And possibly a necessity.)

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Photo courtesy of Budget Bytes

That was fast.

Just a week after I took up the pursuit of an easy homemade alternative to store-bought pasta sauce, I think I’ve found my go-to recipe.

Over at Budget Bytes, Beth posted a recipe for a slow cooker marinara sauce in November (gotta give kudos to Pinterest for helping me find it). She noted that the long, slow cooking process (eight hours on low) carmelizes the sugar in the crushed tomatoes. Carmelization gives the sauce a depth of flavor that jarred pasta sauce simply cannot replicate. It’s got the hint of sweetness that a good tomato-based sauce should have without the artificial, overpoweringly syrupy sweetness offered by most manufactured sauces these days.

It was a cinch to make, too. I diced an onion and a couple of cloves of garlic the previous night and dumped everything into the 4-quart slow cooker crock the next morning. The husband texted me at lunch to let me know that it smelled delicious.

I browned a little ground beef to make a simple meat sauce and served it over two small servings of penne. (And while I’m talking about pasta, let me recommend that you cook half the recommended serving size listed on the box. The suggested serving sizes are obviously calculated to make you buy more pasta, not maintain a healthy weight.)

I might add some crushed red pepper next time for a more piquant sauce, but other than that, I’m very satisfied with this recipe. Like other tomato-based sauces, it’s going to freeze well, meaning that I’ll now have ready-to-serve pasta sauce in the freezer instead of the pantry.  It’s going to be versatile, too: Besides meat sauce, it’s going to be a great topping for ravioli and a good dipping sauce for the husband’s homemade calzones.

Next goal: A go-to, not-too-salty soup recipe to keep in the freezer.

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How weird to be in the middle of a food trend and not realize it.

I’ve been trying to reduce the amount of processed food in my family’s diet for the past few years. I was unemployed for a few months when we first moved to Huntsville, so I started cooking a lot to try to save money and fill time. And not Hamburger Helper-type cooking, either. I’m talking from-scratch cooking, as in grate your own cheese (melts so much better than pre-shredded) and making your own meatloaf spice mixture (because have you READ the ingredients on those little flavoring packets?). The salad spinner became a permanent resident in the fridge, always filled with fresh (and local, when available) greens.

We didn’t give up EVERY processed food, mind you. There may or may not be a multipack of frozen pizzas from Costco in my freezer right now. The peanut butter that the husband eats every day is incredibly hydrogenated (I’d go bankrupt trying to feed him the real stuff). I don’t make my own mayonnaise, although I should make my own salad dressing.

So I’m not claiming that we’re dietary saints. But we’ve both maintained our weight for the past five years despite some substantial lapses in workouts, and we’ve put a significant dent in the number of colds and other odd viruses that haunt so many households. Coincidence? Maybe, but I’ll take it.

We find ourselves in the middle of the Real Food Movement. Come on in. It’s delicious.

I rescued a copy of The End of Overeating: Taking Control of the Insatiable American Appetite from my mom’s Goodwill box a few months ago and just got around to reading it. Author David A. Kessler explores, among other things, how utterly processed the average American diet is. The food industry exists to sell us cheaply manufactured goods that make us want to eat more, no matter how much sugar, fat and salt it takes to get us hooked.

I spotted a title at Barnes & Noble this weekend that actually distracted me from the Harry Potter table: Skinny Chicks Eat Real Food: Kick Your Fake Food Habit, Kickstart Your Weight Loss. Author Christine Avanti explores factory food addiction and how her move to fresh, real foods helped her lose weight and, more importantly, maintain her weight. I didn’t pick up the book because, I told myself, I’m not trying to lose weight OR fill up my bookshelves right now, but I’m very curious to read Avanti’s findings.

The thing about (who knew?) being part of the Real Food Movement for the past couple of years? I can now often taste the difference between processed foods and real foods. For example, I can taste the excessive sugar in jars of spaghetti sauce — there’s only one variety I can really stand to eat now, and the husband’s not fond of it. The flavor of salt in canned soup is getting overwhelming — heck, I can taste salt in one variety of CHEESE now, prompting me to replace it with another.

So, as anticlimactic as it may be, my New Year’s Resolution is to keep following the Real Food path. I’ll also be changing up my exercise routine (more on that later), but mostly I’ll continue figuring out how to feed the husband and myself quality, delicious foods and get further away from the “better living through chemistry” theme that has overtaken our food industry for the past few decades.

To that end, I’m afraid the pantry is about to lose two longstanding residents. You’ve been handy, jarred spaghetti sauce and canned soup, but I can taste your additives, and I can make you better without them.

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