Almighty Omega-3s

Living in a City that never sleeps means you have the opportunity to dine out every day and at all hours.

However, study after study (summarized here) shows that dining out can pack on the pounds and put you at risk of not getting your full daily requirements of essential nutrients.

So I try to balance out the nights out for events with a basic, nutrition-packed dinner at home.

For example, tomorrow night we're looking forward to a wedding engagement celebration for one of the loveliest, chicest couples I've ever known. I'm frankly happy they are tying the knot because I get to keep the husband-to-be around. I've never met any one more charming or modest or talented.

So last night, I prepared a meal high in omega-3 fatty acids, the anti-inflammatory lipids found in fresh fish primarily but also some nuts.

I started with wild Coho salmon. Wild fish is often richer in omega-3s because the stock eat plankton and not the grain-derived products that farm-raised ones get. For a fabulous summary of why we need omega-3s so badly these days (or grass-fed meat), this article sums it up. Basically, we're eating too many grains (rich in omega-6 fatty acids) for the last 40 years.

I included a mango salsa as a topper:

It includes chopped red onion, jalapeno peppers (my household loves hot food; if every bite makes me sweat, I'm satisfied) and cilantro. Unlike some friends, we clearly don't carry the gene that finds cilantro nauseating.

Finally, I made a side of quinoa. It may look like a grain and cook like a grain, but quinoa is actually an ancient dish that's more seed-like in origin than grass-like. Plus it's packed naturally with protein and essential amino acids (meaning compounds that our bodies don't naturally produce and we can only get by ingesting food). Just be sure to wash the quinoa before you cook it. This removes a bitter, natural pesticide that coats each granule.

Yummy in my Le Creuset. Voila!

What To Give A Runner

Usually, I run alone. But joining a friend in pounding the pavement is definitely a bonding experience. A running partner is a camrade, a cheerleader and competition, embodied.

Last night I attended a terrific birthday dinner for one such running partner. What do you give a fine lady who has pretty much all she really needs? New things to read, I figured. So I gave her these books.

Strides by Benjamin Cheever (Obvi. How can I not be a fan of pere Cheever, having lived in Connecticut and married to one)

What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami (TBT, I think he's a great writer with a complicated mind; what he finds fascinating subject matter reminds me of what a precocious boy with little experience around girls would think about. The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle was beautifully written; though now I think he spends too much time running and not enough time mingling.)

I was seated next to a woman who is training for a triathlon this summer. While that doesn't fit into my plans for this year, it may be a goal for 2010.

Can You Lose While You Schmooze?

Tonight, lovelies, I am attending a book party. And like holiday cocktails or a Christmas tree-trimming, author celebrations are a minefield for bad nutrition. 

Obvi, the cocktails and the trayed canapes are guilty. But even the ones I attend where there is a lack of food to soak up the alcohol is bad for my health. 

I hadn't been to many of this breed until I started dating my husband. 

Why does the my city's literati elite pride themselves on hosting parties with Champagne galore but few bites? My dear chocks it up to fashion. He grew accustomed to this manner overseas. The more well-to-do you are, the more likely you host a modest (even tightwad-like) party so not to give off airs, so it goes.

I learned this first hand one eve at the shiny, bright apartment of an acquaintance. It was organized to celebrate a guest-of-honor, here from Wales, and his new appointment. The soiree included waiters with white gloves and beaucoup de Bubbly. There were 80-plus chatterboxes who either wrote, edited, agented, or granted money on hand. But when I gestured to the one lone bowl of nuts in the room, my husband looked on the bright side (as is his nature): "At least it's not Twiglets. They are foul." Apparently, he's attended one too many parties when he lived abroad where only those Marmite novelties were served.

So for the brighter side for my plan tonight, I aim to eat before I go: If I nosh on protein before the event, I'll avoid unconscious nibbling.  So, should the fare be ever more substantial than umami-enhanced twigs, it won't matter to me.

Pork Butt: It's What's For Lunch

This afternoon, we were joined for a lunch for 10 at Momofuku Ssam Bar. It wasn't anyone's birthday or any celebratory occasion. Rather, we were all there for the bo ssam: a dish on the menu that includes a dozen raw oysters, kimchi and a whole pig butt. (By the way: this isn't the rear of pig but here).

Momofuku requests that you order this meal in advance and for parties of 8 or more. So we met with lovely Bobby and his wife Bipasha and various other journos. One was finishing up his book on Prohibition and its accompaniment, a new Ken Burns documentary; a second was here from D.C. visiting the home office (and left early to take a plane home); another was discussing his column from today, Madoff and President Carter's 1979 infamous "malaise" speech that, in fact, never included the word malaise. The point is, none of us write about food for a living which made the meal so fun and the conversations so interesting and thoughtful. You can actually enjoy the dishes without the pressure of keeping up with the critique of the expert in the room.

It was truly decadent to eat that kind of meal midday. Add to that, the fact that we're eating out again tonight. Top it with the one no-show who didn't make it to the table? Joe's girlfriend came late because she had opted for running around the Park. Priceless.

My Wish Today

I just read that gym memberships are supposed to see a 9 percent rise this year.  Right now, I don't care but wish it was like above in Central Park. S-P-R-I-NG. 

I'm tired of the treadmill and running indoors. 

Austerity Chic

That's the word from today's Wall Street Journal after a dismal aftermath to the New York fashion shows this week and the outlook for London's fashion week next. Luxury goods are not "recession-proof" as the sudden 15 percent fall this year demonstrates.

Bye-bye, over-rated bridge collections sold at the uninspiring likes of Scoop and Intermix if this trend continues (and every financial forecaster seems to say just that). That's how I read between the lines of this article. Indeed, the writers finish up their piece with a discussion beyond clothing but how "austerity chic" will affect other luxury goods, like alcohol. 

Interestingly, that's good news, scientifically speaking:

A new study published in Clinical Nutrition found that those who drank beer and red wine had improved vascular function than those who consumed white wine, whisky and even water. While the powerhouse phytochemical, resveratrol, found in the skin of red grapes has been getting a lot of press lately, the fact that beer matched the effect of red wine suggests that it is not resveratrol, but another compound in both beverages, that is the cause.

And I submit that no alcoholic beverage defines a "lapse of luxury" better than a six-pack of beer.

Food Porn

Or, Why I Don't Eat Cheese or Butter

http://thisiswhyyourefat.com/

This site is too mean (and simplistic) for me.  

Nevertheless, it sure takes the fun out of greasy foods. 

And I'm going for a long run now.