Detoxing the foodie: Mission impossible?

We all know what it’s like. Getting sucked into a vortex of nonstop indulging in the senses. Eating rich, scrumptious meals, drinking bottles and bottles of wine, ignoring the fresh, pretty salads on the menu and going one too many times for that beautiful hunk of beef slathered in butter. Then waking up the next morning, swearing you’ll be good and have a nonfat yogurt for breakfast, only to crack for a creamy and cheesy pasta by lunch, and maybe pork belly for dinner. Your body is sluggish, you’ve long given up exercising and all you want to do is rub your belly. This is called food-comatose.

Two and a half weeks of croissants, saucisson, and boiled eggs for breakfast; steak-frites, escargots and cheese for lunch; and five-course gourmet dinners… I still managed to go straight from the flight to a four-course Italian wine-pairing dinner and eat myself silly all the way to the lovely family-bonding weekend getaway where we joyously attacked the 2.5 kilos of cheese and that truffled foie gras that managed to stay alive in my suitcase. After what seems like eons of food tripping, major bingeing and giving in to cravings, it’s high time I get my act together, cleanse and detox.

For a true foodie, it’s a real struggle to keep healthy. There’s a little voice inside me, telling me it’s okay to let go, you live for this, you live for food, who cares about cellulite? What’s five pounds? What’s 10 pounds?  Well, I keep fighting with myself that it’s not so much about looks and being skinny, although in our day I think it’s too much of a big deal. I have to remind myself it’s about my health, keeping fit and not over-abusing my body so I can enjoy my nice long lunches doused with fine wine with my grandchildren.

For the next two weeks I am swearing off alcohol and I have promised to stick to a diet that a wonderfully slim friend of mine, Rocio, specially created for me. (“Not even wine?!” I protested. “Nope, not even wine,” she firmly told me.) I look at all the little reminders marked with asterisk: “*No salt” and “*no oil,” and I have to ask myself, will I survive?

For the next two weeks I have to be creative with my meals. How am I going to play with fresh herbs, curries, seasonings, spices to add flavor without fat or salt? How am I going to eat out in a restaurant and reprogram my brain to look for the healthy options? Don’t get me wrong, I love vegetables and grilled food, but somehow I feel like the local produce are not as crisp nor as flavorful as the gorgeous tomatoes and heads of lettuce you can find in a European market stall. This will be a true test of my abilities as a cook to select the best local veggies, cook them to perfection and bring out their full potential. I will also have to remind myself how yummy fresh fruits can be and that yes, there can be life without butter or pork fat.

I always forget that the Philippines is teeming with gorgeous fresh fish, juicy squid and the biggest prawns I’ve ever seen. We have wonderful seafood and during these two weeks I’m going to share with you new recipes and light ways of cooking using the crazy variety of fish that I see. I will get my fill of Omega 3!

Perhaps this article is not as exuberant as my others, but it is one of the most personal because I’m reaching out to the struggling foodies like me who have to put up with an everyday battle between our passionate love for good food and epicurean adventures, and to try not to spend our lives taking liver pills, Lipitor and all sorts of medication to cure health problems that could’ve been avoided by moderation and simple open-mindedness about what we eat. I suppose I have to learn how not to use my honest love for cuisine and wine as an excuse not to take care of myself and listen to my body. Because more often than not, I completely ignore its cries of surrender and keep munching away at course after course, forcing in room for dessert.

Right now I’m hopeful. I’m sure by mid-week I’ll be miserable and by Friday I’ll be scavenging for moldy old bits of chocolate or bacon in the trashcan and sniffing an empty bottle of Malbec wine, but I’m determined to make it through. I will do everything I can, bring out the big artillery guns to win this battle, stick to the detox diet for two weeks and if it’ll be a tiny, microscopic sliver of butter on my grilled fish that will get me through, so help me, God, it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.

* * *

You can reach the author at stephanie_zubiri@yahoo.fr.