Let's Talk: Is Real Raw?

I suppose the short answer is clearly "yes." I mean, a raw zucchini is real food, no doubt about it. Right?

Of course, the reverse gets more complicated. Is raw real? (Stick with me here.) After all, "real" has many meanings, many shadings. Would you consider a raw, genetically-modified, pesticide-sprayed zucchini real food? Now THAT's a big question.

But let's table it for now and just say, for the sake of argument, that all zucchinis are the same. One is as good as another. No questions asked.

Is real food by definition raw food?

Or put another way--and I suspect the way we often mean the question--is raw food somehow "realer" than other food?

To be sure, the raw food movement has been around for a while. I thought it would be a flash-fire in the U. S. skillet (as it were) in about 2002, a sort of eat-it-raw answer to that Y2K nonsense and then the 9/11 horror. You know: assuage our fears by eating asparagus raw.

I jest--but not much. I do think something like that was going on--a back-to-basics things. But today, the movement shows little signs of abating. There continue to be raw-food gurus, newly minted; raw food restaurants aplenty in big cities; and even raw-food cookbooks, more planned in the years ahead

Bruce and I were in Vancouver a few weeks ago and the waiter at one restaurant pointed out several dishes on the menu that were "raw"--as if this designation were a huge plus. And perhaps it was. She certainly thought so.

As Bruce and I wrote our new, seven-step plan to get off processed food, REAL FOOD HAS CURVES, available here, we struggled with this raw/real question. Repeatedly. And often. So much so that we insisted the cover have things like wine and cheese and bread on it--lest someone mistake ours for a raw-food plan.

And yet. . . .

In the book, we divide our choices into four categories: real food, almost real food, barely real food, and not real food. We offer explanations of each--as well as ways to figure out how to make sense of the categories. We made these four categories because the world is not simply "real" vs. "not real." And also to give some give to the whole plan: a little grace and forgiveness.

But watch this progression, one of many in the book:

• Real food--a ripe tomato
• Almost real food--natural, salt-free canned tomatoes or sun-dried tomatoes
• Barely real food--preflavored, salted, stewed, canned tomatoes or sun-dried tomatoes packed in oil with flavorings added
• Not real food--condensed tomato soup and most bottled ketchup 

We're back to that crucial question, aren't we?

Yesterday, while I was being interviewed on a Martha Stewart radio program, the host sort of chastised me for thinking canned beans were real food. "I'd would have thought you were a dried beans kind of guy," she said.

Well, I am. Except I think canned beans can be real food, too. Or maybe "almost real food." They're certainly not raw food. But they're certainly within the realm of the "real," right? Or not?

So I ask you: is raw food real food? Or stated more clearly: is real food only raw? And raw food the only real food? And if so, is everything else some sort of falling off from that high, crunchy point?

Strawberry Sorbet

I promised abundance. Mostly because Bruce and I have come home to it. So I thought I'd start celebrating it with an easy sorbet, one Bruce whipped up in no time flat.

If you recall, I gave the run-down on frozen treats here. (And Bruce and I should know, having written this book and this one.) But all those definitions contain exceptions, right? I mean, chefs make buttermilk sorbet these days. It has dairy but it's a sorbet. What gives?

I think it's the lack of eggs and cream. And maybe that does make it a sorbet, even with the dairy. Life's all about trade-offs, right? And compromises. And grace.

Let me repeat that: life needs more grace. It needs more give, bend, flexibility. (And at my advanced age, I know what I'm talking about.) Grace is an old-fashioned word, for sure. Yep, it means Audrey Hepburn, as in graceful. But it also means at peace, as in gracious. But it also seems the very essence of summer. Winter is for Calvinists, grammarians, and other scolds. Summer is for dancers of all sorts, even just those who can dance only in their minds. Like me, who can trip across a flat floor but am addicted to modern dance. Do you watch So You Think You Can Dance? My word, I love that show. I love the grace, even if I can only imagine it in my body.

Anyway, strawberry sorbet. It's summer's grace.

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Chocolate Pudding

Greetings from the Lake Austin Spa! (You won't believe this place. Check it out here.)

Bruce and I are teaching cooking classes from our new book, REAL FOOD HAS CURVES (which you can find here).

Mostly, we're enjoying this view from our room: the Colorado river, winding through the canyon, the flowers in abundance around us, the gorgeous afternoon sun making things lazy and peaceful.

These are our first classes from the book--and we're already getting a great response. I can't wait to hear what you will say about it.

Especially about the chocolate pudding, the way the second step of the plan starts off, the one about relishing everything you eat.

For a while, we thought about subtitling the book "Chocolate Pudding Will Save Your Life."

We did a taste test in class today: real chocolate pudding, a shelf-stable chocolate pudding, and an "instant" chocolate pudding, no cooking required. We discussed how simple flavors bring out real satisfaction--and how more pleasure in every bite is the key to eating less at every turn.

Look, everyone's got the bad news: everything in the supermarket will somehow kill you. But it's just not true. So we wrote this book so that real people could go to the real supermarket--not just the fancy upscale one--and get real food onto their tables and so perhaps live longer, weigh less, and love every bite. 

To that end, chocolate pudding will save your life!

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