The Soup That Left No Leftovers

One is supposed to eat all kind of colours on a daily basis to remain fit and healthy and quite good looking, green, red, orange, yellow, and whatever colours there are in vegetables and fruit. With red, I don’t have the slightest problem (see previous post), but sometimes I wonder whether my supply of anything green might in any way be questionable. For instance, I hate Granny Smith apples. Horrid specimen of green little helpers! They look like they came right out of a chemical lab from outer space, just the kind of apple Mr. Spock would love to have for a snack. But I keep digressing, anyway, just to kill two birds with one stone, I put all my eggs in one basket, meaning I made a stew out of some fine ever so organic beef bouillon, green peas, even greener beans, red peppers, orange carrots, and as I didn’t have anything yellow to add, I had to substitute some colourless cabbage for the health benefits any kind of yellow stuff would have let one profit from. Poor me. However, it tasted so fine that I ate it all up and should survive to a hundred and five.

A Greek God’s Breakfast

Actually, it’s a very common dessert in most Greek restaurants, but lately I found out that for somebody into Swiss müeslis it’s also very nice a dish when served for breakfast. Yoghurt, nuts and honey—what more could you ask for to stay slim and fit? I’m pretty sure all these nutrients on a daily basis is what turned Greek people into gods and goddesses. As for my version, it’s a politically most absurd blend of origins: the yoghurt’s Greek, the walnuts are from California, and the chestnut honey is produce of Turkish bees. The country who first came up with democracy blended with two others that have been mocking it ever since their current leaders came into power. But I was talking health benefits, not politics…

Blueberry Blues

In the summer of 1999, I remember the date vividly, it was the year I was having the best lunchbreaks ever with my colleague and friend Andrea, our agency was wildly overstaffed, so from Monday to Friday, we had lavish, long extended luncheons all over town, our lunch budget was always overdrawn by Tuesday, but we didn’t care at all, anyway, it was also the summer, blueberry producers from all over the world published the result of some health research, claiming the blue colouring of blueberries was extremely healthy a stuff. Something in the chemical composition seemed to protect you from all sorts of diseases, conveying the impression blueberries made you live happily for hundreds of years. I was immediately sold. So, for the last twenty years I’ve been eating lots and lots of blueberries, muffins mostly, but also lots and lots of blueberry müeslis, and haven’t aged at all (so my doctor tells me). I added some raspberries for colour, though…

Save The Rich and Sugar!

Sugar is the most opposed achievement in modern society, when you admit putting sugar in your coffee, you’re as politically suspect as if you opposed putting taxes on the rich. So, unless you’re already wearing a t-shirt that says Save the Rich, don’t ever quit sugar! You might lose what life’s all about, where there’s nothing sweet to experience, there’s only bitterness to endure, so believe you me, you don’t want to live without any contrasts, you need them just as much as the day needs the night, and the week its weekend, and whatever they tell you about the danger of sugar or carbohydrates altogether, slow or fast, think of what you’d have to give up once you’ve renounced sugar: the rigid bitterness of orange marmalade, mine is imported from a weekly market in Versailles and amère as hell, needs some sweetness to soothe your tastebuds, otherwise you end up with a twisted tongue. And if this necessity doesn’t convince you, just think of that: citrus fruit and sugar cane have the same origin, God—and you don’t want to contradict God, do you?

True blood

Lately, I started to eat oranges as a refreshing snack after dinner because I don’t drink them anymore for breakfast. Instead, I have a bloodbath. You see, pomegranates make the best juice, but pressing them demands a certain amount of precision, the fruit is easily cut in half, just like an orange, but don’t get fooled, the seeds are highly explosive, you don’t want to put to much pressure on the skin or they spatter everything from top to floor with their thick red juice and you end up renovating your kitchen on a daily basis and coming in late to work. And nobody, absolutely nobody wants to hear your excuse. But once you’ve developed some technique, you are rewarded with great taste and enough vitamins, flavonoids, antioxidants, minerals, and other healthy stuff to easily turn 100. Or even older. 107, for instance. Depends on how much you drink, I guess.

Dieting while at dessert.

One day, it must have been spring, I decided to lose some weight. You have to be slim for slim cut shirts. So, I had to find a way to eat less, at least for dessert, I had tried to have no dessert at all, but this didn’t work out well, it just made me cranky, and so, in order to keep some of my friends, I tried to eat just half of my crème brûlée or my panna cotta or whatever I was having for dessert, but this didn’t work out either. You cannot stop in the middle of something, can you? What idiotic concept is this? I then tried tiny portions. For instance, these ridiculously small things from Sprüngli. They made me burst out into tears. They seemed to mock me. So I gave up desserts altogether. Cold turkey. Now, I’m unbearably cranky, but quite slim.

Longevity for dessert.

Yoghurt is said to be responsible for the long lives of the Greek, and it’s recommended after taking antibiotics, so obviously it has a lot of healthy qualities, but eaten pure it lacks a bit of, well, a lot. It’s a bit dreary. Yoghurt needs something special to bring out its flavour, some contrast, some refinement, just like Cinderella needed all that glitter to make that prince fall in love with her. I like yoghurt best with raspberries, lots of raspberries, the frozen ones are suited best, because they develop a beautiful red juice when defrosting that compliments the whiteness of the yoghurt—by the way, the richer, thicker and creamier a yoghurt, the better. Sugar, some minced apples and a generous serving of calvados, all mixed together are great, too. I invented that dessert when I was eleven but wasn’t allowed to eat it until I turned eighteen. And then, there is yoghurt with walnuts and honey, which brings us back to the Greek and their long lives filled with great desserts. Having said that, I’m really glad about the grexit no longer being an issue.