Recently, we headed up north to the in-laws' cottage on beautiful Kahshe Lake for one last dip in the rapidly cooling waters and some general rest and relaxation surrounded by a nature's splendour. Because we are cottage-less freeloaders ourselves, and because we invade the property as a rowdy family of five, we like to sweeten the pot with the offer to make supper for our generous hosts. The in-laws pretend this is a great idea- although knowing them well, and knowing my propensity for freakishly low-fat experimental cooking, I can tell that this offer is no treat for them.
The menu I had planned was grilled trout in a sesame and poppy seed crust, seasoned cauliflower mash and to top it off, watermelon, feta & pea sprout salad with lemon rind and EVOO. This sounds delish, no? The only problem was a major problem. In my never-ending quest to create a healthy, low-fat, nutrient-high meal, I omit important things like, satisfaction, flavour and fullness. Fast-forward three hours and I found myself in the moonlit cottage kitchen, alone, frantic and elbow deep in a bag of humidity-softened Lays ketchup chips dated 2009. Gorging on the fatty-wafers I paused if only for a split-second to jam a two-bite brownie remnant into my yap after spying it on the floor near the base of the fridge. It felt so good to be bad.
Sometimes, it's our own best intentions that prove to be our greatest downfall. Certainly there is a happy medium that we must all struggle to find. The first step in overcoming a problem is acceptance.
My name is Kasie and I ruin perfectly good recipes with healthy good intentions.
My problems began in 1998. I was living with a bunch of girls in a co-op next to Ryerson University where I was studying. I weighed as much as I did at my peak of pregnancy with all three boys, and yet I somehow believed my extra poundage was due to the demands of studies and not at all linked to copious volumes of beer and pizza binges at 1am. My roomie Amy and I decided to take charge of our daytime menu and replace recipe staples such as oil, butter, flour and cheese, with low-calorie alternatives like applesauce, almonds, sawdust and air. The results were literally inedible. We created the first "mookie"- a Frankensteined recipe that was not quite muffin, not quite cookie. To this day, I have a freakishly large reserve of applesauce in my cupboard that I just eyeball desperately when a recipe calls for...gasp!..oil.
Fast forward a decade and thousands of improvised and wholly unsatisfactory "healthy" meals later. It all came to an ugly head when in one evening my extended family pretty much all but disowned me when I introduced them to the ever-unpopular cauliflower mash in lieu of traditional mashed potatoes. It was like a scene straight out of a protest in Libya- arms flailing, people crying, fists pounding, threats of retaliation. It was not pretty. In case you're paying attention, yes, I did indeed make the cauliflower dish again at the cottage... I told you, I'm an addict and old habits die hard...especially when trouncing their way through your intestinal tract at 11pm.
Like any addiction, I take mine one day at a time. But even if I never again bake up a batch of mookies (not quite muffin, not quite cookie), I will always be a well-intentioned recipe-altering addict.
The menu I had planned was grilled trout in a sesame and poppy seed crust, seasoned cauliflower mash and to top it off, watermelon, feta & pea sprout salad with lemon rind and EVOO. This sounds delish, no? The only problem was a major problem. In my never-ending quest to create a healthy, low-fat, nutrient-high meal, I omit important things like, satisfaction, flavour and fullness. Fast-forward three hours and I found myself in the moonlit cottage kitchen, alone, frantic and elbow deep in a bag of humidity-softened Lays ketchup chips dated 2009. Gorging on the fatty-wafers I paused if only for a split-second to jam a two-bite brownie remnant into my yap after spying it on the floor near the base of the fridge. It felt so good to be bad.
Sometimes, it's our own best intentions that prove to be our greatest downfall. Certainly there is a happy medium that we must all struggle to find. The first step in overcoming a problem is acceptance.
My name is Kasie and I ruin perfectly good recipes with healthy good intentions.
My problems began in 1998. I was living with a bunch of girls in a co-op next to Ryerson University where I was studying. I weighed as much as I did at my peak of pregnancy with all three boys, and yet I somehow believed my extra poundage was due to the demands of studies and not at all linked to copious volumes of beer and pizza binges at 1am. My roomie Amy and I decided to take charge of our daytime menu and replace recipe staples such as oil, butter, flour and cheese, with low-calorie alternatives like applesauce, almonds, sawdust and air. The results were literally inedible. We created the first "mookie"- a Frankensteined recipe that was not quite muffin, not quite cookie. To this day, I have a freakishly large reserve of applesauce in my cupboard that I just eyeball desperately when a recipe calls for...gasp!..oil.
Fast forward a decade and thousands of improvised and wholly unsatisfactory "healthy" meals later. It all came to an ugly head when in one evening my extended family pretty much all but disowned me when I introduced them to the ever-unpopular cauliflower mash in lieu of traditional mashed potatoes. It was like a scene straight out of a protest in Libya- arms flailing, people crying, fists pounding, threats of retaliation. It was not pretty. In case you're paying attention, yes, I did indeed make the cauliflower dish again at the cottage... I told you, I'm an addict and old habits die hard...especially when trouncing their way through your intestinal tract at 11pm.
Like any addiction, I take mine one day at a time. But even if I never again bake up a batch of mookies (not quite muffin, not quite cookie), I will always be a well-intentioned recipe-altering addict.
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