Food and Hyperglycemia

Now that Snewo's blood sugar has zanily crept its way to the 300s, we are now incredibly hungry. I forgot to mention the other ironic side effect of high blood sugar. Sorry.

Imagine feeling stoned, and having the munchies. Problem is, you paid that lousy dude working behind the counter of your local cantina for the sack you easily smoked. Only now did you manage to remember why you don't buy that dirtbag's grass - it's dirt. Your head is pounding You are starving And you have the worst case of the lazies.

That's high blood sugar, people.

So when I am supposed to be out cavorting in my running shoes like some triathlon contender, instead I am making miracles in the kitchen with leftover Scharffenberger bittersweet and organic brown sugar.

Yes, I consider myself a foodie. It started in elementary school, when my mother came home every day to find every single pan out on the middle of the linoleum floor. I'm sitting in the middle, mixing, stirring, and making gooey droplets all over the place. There is powdered sugar all over my t-shirt, and chocolate bits in my elbow crannies. A streak of raspberry jam decorates my cheek.

After working both as a pastry chef and as a caterer, I realized I would have to quit working in the restaurant industry. Remarkably, having to taste test your creations raises your blood sugars, and because you don't remember exactly how much and what you tasted, you can't adequately compensate with a dose of insulin.

So most of my foodie creativity is in books. I have cookbooks all over the place, and every time I'm hungry and want something delightful I force myself to read about it while I eat my veggie burger. Nothing wrong with veggie burgers, mind you, but they aren't exactly the "Shrimp Cakes With Chili Lime Sauce" that you are craving, right? (Epicurious recipe: http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/recipe_views/views/232743). We all can't just have Spanakopita (my recipe, dammit, and you can't have it) and pumpkin flan (http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/rotw/) any time we want.

Dear readers, Snewo has also learned that her bootylicious rear end is more like a 200 lb. freight train without a whole lot of self denial. She just can't eat whatever the hell strikes her fancy.

I laughed aloud this afternoon when I found a new blog - "The Bruni Digest". This feisty little New Yorker has decided to parody the New York Times Food Critic du jour, Frank Bruni.

And it is mad funny. If you read restaurant critiques, that is.

http://brunidigest.blogspot.com

Restaurant critics to me are a lot like music critics. They really, really love their craft and therefore their prose is completely inexplicable to normal people. How you can compare 50 Cents' new single to " a long, wafting, mournful bellow, reminiscent of a dirge in winter" is absolutely beyond me. And restaurant reviews are written the same way. Don't tell me that the ice tea was bitter by stating "the acerbic wit of a cantankerous senior citizen was readily evoked in their liquid replenishments". Just tell me they forgot the baking soda, dammit.

If you like food, and think food editors are mad funny the same way I do, read "The Bruni Digest". Well worth it.




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