The concept of this blog is simple: I am going to eat, and you, my friends, will bear witness.
Before your eyes glaze over, and you move on to the next entry in Google or Bing or whichever search engine led you to me, let me try to explain why this project is different from the 90 bazillion other blogs out there that happen to be about food.
Instead of following their lead, and featuring my favorite recipe ideas for two, directions on how to stretch a pound of ground beef out over a week's worth of meals, or other acts of literary and culinary aggression, I will address one particular question that has foiled the modern foodie generation for decades: How are we, as lovers of food, wine, and all of the fine things that fall in between, to balance our insatiable appetites with our desire to maintain a healthy weight?
I am no dietician, and definitely no chef, but I do know a thing or two about overindulging. You see, I have always really, really loved food. As in, I would make love to food literally if food were a person, or maybe even if it weren't a person but the act was not weird and was as physically satisfying as just eating it.
Anyway.
Unfortunately, as I approach my late mid-thirties, I have found that my love for food has begun to show. Only four years ago, I was 30 pounds lighter, and had respectable muscle tone. Now, after years of eating my feelings while enduring the tortures of law school and my PhD studies, I have become decidedly less sleek, watching in horror as my man-breasts begin to bud.
I have never been the type to diet. For starters, there was no need for me to do so throughout my 20s, because there was nothing I could stuff down my gullet that would cause the scale to even flirt with a weight above 175. Secondly, I am a hedonist, which I inherited from my mother. I see things, I enjoy them, and I want them immediately. Traditionally, this has led me to some rather extreme eating adventures: In very recent memory, for example, I consumed a 9-inch cheesecake within a weekend's time. I can't help it - it's just so delicious.
The point is that a traditional diet would never work for me - and from what I can gather from the endless diet fads and news segments on weight loss, they don't tend to work for a lot of folks. My passion for food has made me a culinary Tinkerbell, who, instead of applause, requires buttercream to survive. So, I've developed a new plan.
From Monday through Saturday, I will eat according to a strict dietary plan. Six small meals a day to boost my metabolism, consisting of complex carbohydrates, lean, high protein meats, and vegetables. I will eat no processed flours or sugars. I will exercise portion control, and adhere to an exerise regimen that requires me to alternate cardio and weights on each of these days. And I will post my weekly totals for all of the world to see, in an attempt to shame myself into actually following through.
What's more, I will, a couple of times each week, post recipes, photos, and reviews about what I cooked during the week so that you can see just how easy it can be to make healthy food that is incredibly satisfying.
But what about Sunday, you ask? Sunday is Eat Day.
Each Sunday, I will reward myself for all of my hard work during the week by cooking an incredibly decadent meal, which I shall document here - along with recipes and photos - for you to enjoy. After all, you wouldn't be here if you didn't love food porn as much as I do, right?
The point of all of this is to demonstrate that not only is it normal to overindulge, it is possible to do so regularly without giving up your waistline. Or, to be more precise, I think it's possible. Either way, we're about to find out.
Alas, the festivities will not kick off until next week, after Dr. D. and I return from Memphis, where I will have my last big bang before I begin my experiment. Brace yourselves for some candid photos from this weekend's Beale Street festivities, and don't make me sad by not coming back. I'm super fun.
