Veni Vidi....

I don't know quite how to approach telling you about this, but the hub and I are going on a restricted calorie experiment for the foreseeable future.Restricted Calorie Experiment. See how scientific that sounds? I just love science, don't you? Rather than any ol' mundane sacrificial diet, this will be a full fledged project, with white lab coats, clipboards,flow charts, beakers, test tubes, and oh right, less food.

MUCH less food.

But still fun right? Right?This riotousall butter/all cheese/all bacon(it is local! It is raised in a kindly and sustainable way!)eating has gone to our heads. And, unfortunately, to our waists, our hips, our thighs, and even to our wrists, the bridges of our noses, and our kneecaps.

Sigh. I was always SO proud of my girlish kneecaps!

So the new drill around here is how to make food that is not only fresh, local, organic, sustainably raised, and delicious, but food that is fresh/local/organic/sustainable/delicious and lower in calories overall.

This will wreak havoc on my typical approach to get Hub to try something new which generally consists of the loving application (read:slathering on) of various forms of butter, cheese, or bacon. In some extreme cases, all three.

And coming as it does just prior to the holidays, our little experiment will hold a special challenge as I typically pull all the stops out for meals around Thanksgiving and Christmas.

For whatever reason the closer it gets to Thanksgiving, the more I start coming off like a Jewtalian Mother, morphing into an overeater enabler and food pusher extraordinaire. "Eat! You want more? You hardly touched that 5th course and we haven't had dessert yet!".

So. OK. If I write it here I will (fingers crossed) stick to a pledge to make only enough food for twice as many people as will be seated at our table this year. That means every person gets two meals - no more - out of what I fix for The Feast. One for the feast, and one for whenever the other people want it. We are all grown ups and I am only going to be responsible for if I eat my extra piece of pie for breakfast the next day. Everybody else has to eat - or not - for themselves.

I also plan to limit the amount of pie I make - perhaps only one kind this year rather than two or three. I will take a serious look at the amount and source of the fats I use and see if I can't whittle, oh, say, about a zagillion calories out of the meal overall.That way I can hopefully avoid having to search for cunning reindeer print MuuMuus or holly patterned clown pants.

But let me clearly state here and now that this is Simply. Not. Fair.

Just when we have a little (and I do mean little thanks G. Bush and deregulators!) disposable income lying around and just when I have discovered the coolest source of all things local/organic/responsibly sourced/old style dairy'ed (thanks W'ville!) AND have both the time and the accrued talent to really cook it all up in style?

Just when all those stars have aligned my body has gone into "Poof! I will make you into a Gramma Shape" mode.

My hormones are on two settings.There is the "Yes you are a female but what happens when I throw a little extra Testosterone in?" mode which has me looking around for sharp sticks and heavy blunt objects.Then there is FULL ON ESTROGEN mode which has me reaching for frilly aprons and looking up recipes to bake new cookies. And pie. And then seriously considering sitting down and eating them all myself. With 14 cups of coffee with cream. And SUGAR.

It is as though the universe, via my sputtering into oblivion girl parts, is sending me the signal "Relax, doll. No more man attracting or baby making for you! Just grab a glass of wine and let's have a quarter pound of cheese and some nuts and look online for elastic waist pants, OK?".

Which is mostly all true but somehow there is supposedly some health thing where I am not supposed to be as wide as I am tall. And some socially agreed upon idea that a 50 something woman is still supposed to still be sveldt. [Audrey Hepburn I know you are dead now and we are not supposed to admit to bad thoughts about dead people but I hated you and your enduring gamin looks. There, I said it!]

If only I could grow 2 inches - what a help that would be. American Drug Industry? What if I told you that you're barking up a dead tree with diet pills? What we need is not to suppress our wonderful appetites - but rather to stimulate continued growth in height! I would be skinny if I weighed what I weigh and was only two inches taller.

Two inches! Is that so much to ask????

And then there is that whole skinny people live longer thing and avoiding diabetes and heart disease, high blood pressure, etc. etc. We all know all the health reasons to eat less and exercise more. Blah blahdedy blah.

Truth be told I like cheese and I like eating real butter from a real old style dairy (you would not believe how much flavor that butter has, seriously) and I like eating bacon and I like eating good bread.

I think if doing that means I am going to gain some weight then maybe, just maybe, that also means it is time for my Italian Grandmother period.I mean really, even Sophia Loren packed on the pounds once she hit a certain age. And nobody, EVER, thought of her as anything but a bombshell.

However. The Hub has requested lighter eating around here. The Hub is the one who lights my spark, who holds all the keys to my heart, and folks, if lighter eating is what he wants, then lighter eating it is.

For him, anyway.

I also figure, in a hopefully reasoned way, not to give up all of anything in favor of giving up a little of everything.Moderation more than abstinence. More salads and fruits and nonstarchy vegetables and a little less bread, butter, and dessert.

Otherwise, the terrorists have already WON! Or something like that.

I guess we will discover together how boring a food blog is when the blogger is trying to cook a little lighter. OK? Yeah.

I feel lighter already.