Duality

There seem to be two camps in the world of food beliefs. One says a calorie is a calorie. The other says all calories are not created equal. I’ve been in the second camp for a while, for as God is my witness <holding clenched fist in the air>, one hundred calories of say, ziti, do not have the same effect on my hips as one hundred calories of say, spinach. I don’t have any science to back me up on this, but I do see the evidence that shows up on my scale. Yet, if I were to get into a heated discussion with a “calorie is a calorie” person tomorrow, I would not be able to convince them of my position even if I brought a two-foot stack of peer-reviewed clinical studies with me. When it comes to food, we believe what we believe and no one better try tell us otherwise.

Here’s another dichotomy. Some people eat to live while others live to eat. Again, I’m in the second camp on that one also. In fact, that’s much of what this whole weight maintenance journey has been about for me, trying in vain to become an “eat to live” person. As opposed to what I have been for most of my life, which is someone who reacted with extreme shock and dismay at the discovery that all of the ice cream was gone. It’s just so darn hard for me to see food as nothing more than fuel. Regarding food as simply nutrition seems a lot like living in a world that has been scrubbed of all color until all that’s left are muted shades of gray. Gray food is not appetizing at all. But then, now that I think of it, maybe that’s the point.

Another twosome: you do know that some people are cooks and others aren’t, don’t you? In other words, there are those who get goosebumps at the thought of buying a new paring knife. Just as there are those who’d rather all the messiness was kept behind the kitchen door, a perfectly delicious meal magically appearing before them. Actually, I am both of those people at different times. When I’m tired, at the end of a work day perhaps, I want my dinner and I don’t want to know about all that slicing and dicing nonsense. But sometimes, on a weekend or a day off, I can really get into cooking. I’m not a baker at heart and I don’t care much for elaborate recipes. What really excites me is when I have a bunch of leftovers that I find a way to make into a particularly tasty dish. That’s how my husband’s favorite chicken sausage and zucchini soup was born.

There’s another thing about cooking. When I cook, the experience of eating is better. It’s not merely the obvious, that when I prepare a dish, I can control what’s in it – think home-made stir-fry versus Chinese takeout. It’s something else, something intangible. I feel more connected to the food. The food is more satisfying. It’s not just something to be consumed, but something worth spending time with, something to celebrate. I don’t think there are too many calories in the celebration part of food.

Which brings me back to my original point that a calorie is not a calorie. And food is more than food. I’m a pretty logical person and the muddle of all this drives me crazy sometimes. But perhaps I protest too much. For while good nutrition is clearly necessary for survival, a meal savored, in all of its meaning and mystery and paradox, is crucial to any life worth living.