Roughly 150 days remain in this Journey to 50. I’ve accomplished some great things over the course of the past 2/3rds of a year: I’ve returned to school and have a 4.0 GPA for the first time in my life. I started painting again. I even ran a 5K…although several walkers passed me on the track.
But my goal of becoming better, losing weight, and becoming a smarter, fitter and trimmer human being has been thwarted by my greatest weakness: I love to eat. Those who know me will attest that I am willing to eat anything put before me. But this past year has created a love affair with really good food. I’ve fallen head-over-heals for great, wonderful, delectable dinners. Brazed meats, simmered stews and sauteed sauces melt my heart (and clog my arteries). But it hasn’t just been eating the foods that moves me so; I’ve loved mastering the art of roasting a chicken, perfectly preparing a beef tenderloin, or finding the ideal recipe for lamb loin chops. A delicate chicken breast in white wine and mushroom reduction sauce, a perfect wedge of cheese and creamed peas are all I need to be happy. Toss in a nice glass of red wine and I’m completely satisfied to sit at the dining room table for a couple of hours each evening.
And this is my problem. This is my undoing. Julia Child is the Siren and her “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” is her dangerous song. A cup of heavy whipping cream is my Kryptonite.
Oh, but for the sound of onions sizzling in butter, and I would be Superman.