let's have dinner.

Warning: Further reading will result in your awareness of my healthy soapbox stance. It has been formed over the years out of my own personal struggle that is currently non-existent, which means it's inevitably biased. It's not lovely life lessons, or humorous cultural encounters. You have been warned.

The city of Los Angeles recently voted on a moratorium that will, in the simplest terms, ban the building of any new fast food establishments in the Southern part of the city, and area that is known as both an area of lower income and also heavier on the scale. If you want to read more about it, go here. With the yearlong ban, city-council members are trying to shrink the size of south LA’s residents by shrinking their unhealthy options. It’s sweet that they care, really. But in my not-so-humble opinion, I think that path they are taking with what they are trying to attain is, well silly.

This is not to say that I don’t like the idea of less fast food joints lining our streets. Let me say, first and absolutely, I hate what fast food has become in America. If you haven’t yet, read Fast Food Nation. If you don’t like to read, watch the movie. I hate the way it has effected our cattle and chicken industry, the way that the agricultural business is tied with politics, and making money is seen as a priority over the way animals are treated, and how the environment is cared for. I hate that it’s cheap and easy to attain, and arguably addictive. I hate that eating one french fry makes me want to eat twenty seven. BUT I believe, in spite of all of this, taking care of ourselves is a decision we have to make for ourselves and has little to do with the fast food industries presence in our world. It is my CHOICE how many french fries I eat, regardless of what effect the grease has on me. Which is why, despite the fact that I want less fast food in America, I scoff at the idea that not building any more in an area for a year will really have an effect of the size of that areas citizens.

A precursor to taking care of your health and your weight is a belief that you are worth the effort it takes. I firmly believe that most of America’s struggle with obesity and weight related issues has more to do with how they feel about themselves on the inside than what they feel like that should look like on the outside. Diets are impossible to keep when they are trying to help fix our perception of ourselves. Our perception of ourselves must be addressed outside of what we eat. It’s tied together - of course - but our diet will not fix our emotional and psychological issues. When we feel good about ourselves, and see reason to live in abundance and not just existence, food choices become more natural, less forced, more healthy.

On the back of a package of Baked Lay’s Potato chips, you will find this quote:

“Fitness is a journey, not a destination. It must be continued for the rest of your lives.” -Dr. Kenneth Cooper

In other words, it’s not easy. It a process. There are hills. You will plummet, even after you feel like you have reached the top of the world. For those that struggle, it’s personal. Feeling like a failure is almost constant. Granted, there are those people in the world like my father that are missing some portion of an an emotional chip which has been replaced with a mega-metabolism, and can have a root-beer float each night, followed by a bag of Lay’s potato chips (not baked) which is guzzled down with three (not diet) sprites, and still maintain the physique of a life long runner who also happens to play tennis every morning. But for so many others, it’s a s-t-r-u-g-g-l-e, and finding balance is so much more than difficult.

That’s why I think the idea that banning the presence of any new fast food establishment in an area of a city that’s statistically more obese, and also poor, which means likely more stressed, and consequently (likely possessing) a lower morale in the area of life, with the belief that it will in some way decrease the size of their waistband is, well, absurd.

The argument is that it will make room for more healthy options to reach the area, as if the (typically more expensive) healthy eateries are just itching to make their way to one of the poorest areas of the city. Supporters say more options will help people make healthier choices. Bull shit. When Jared the Subway guy went into Subway on the beginning of his weight loss journey, there were always the options of cheese, a greasy meat ball sub, or the meat lovers special staring him in the face. It was the CHOICES he made that widdled away the fat from his waist.

And these healthy choices are currently available for the residents LA is trying to make skinny. Below are four different popular fast food chains that are likely present on one corner, everywhere in America. And listed below them are at least one healthy food item that’s available, for anyone to CHOOSE at any time.

McDonalds:

Premium Grilled Chicken Classic Sandwich:
calories: 420
total fat:10g
saturated fat: 2g
trans fat: 0g
fiber: 3g
protein: 32g

healthy salads on the menu: 4

Popeyes:

one mild chicken breast with skin and breading removed:
calories: 120
total fat: 2g
saturated fat: 1g
trans fat: 0g
protein: 24g

Sonic:

Grilled Chicken Wrap:
calories: 380
total fat: 11g
saturated fat: 3g
trans fat: 0g
fiber: 3g
protein: 29g

fat free golden italian dressing:
calories: 50
fat: 0g

healthy salads on the menu: 2

Chick-fil-a:

Chargrilled Chicken Sandwich:
calories: 270
total fat: 3g
saturated fat: 1g
trans fat: 0g
fiber: 4g
protein: 28g

In my not-so-humble-opinion, once again, I think the city of LA’s time and energy would be much more effective if it took the time to help educate it’s citizens as to why they should make healthier choices. Believe me, restriction does not lead to freedom. I walked that road for years, and neither lost a pound, nor found reason to keep trying.

I think it’s great for there to be less grease-ified establishments anywhere on the earth. But saying that restricting their presence will effect the citizens of a poor income neighborhood enough to convince them that they need to put forth the effort to completely change their lifestyle in order to attain a healthy weight is insulting. City-council members, don't use your pull to paint over the issue. Use it to scrape away the layers, and help them see why they should put forth the effort to make the sometimes difficult CHOICES that are already there.

reminders.

There will always be things to trigger the memories I am currently making here. I am nearly through the completion of all five seasons of the HBO series Six Feet Under. This show will always remind me of my time in the little apartment in South Korea. 

Playing currently is the music of Bon Iver. The album "For Emma, Forever ago" was given to me by a friend the day before I departed, and the lyrics and music of this group will serve as the soundtrack of my days here. It's an appropriate play on the evenings of darkness and candle light, when I am alone and wishing I wasn't. It fits the days of sunshine, like today, when I am choosing to be present and thankful. 

As of this past Friday, a few more memory triggers: Darth Vader, light sabers and all things Star Wars. I have managed to make it through twenty-five years on the continent of North America without having seen these movies. When my brother was home at Christmas watching television, I wandered in the living room, glanced at the thirty-five inch screen, and inquired as to what he was watching. He responded with a bewildered, "You DON'T know WHAT this IS?" I said no. His reply: Star Wars, Meredith. I feel some sense of patriotic guilt, even though these movies have nothing to do with American pride. How have I managed this? Firstly, I have a massive aversion to aliens. In other words, I HaTe them. They give me the creeps. I feel uncomfortable when forced to look at their odd shaped, leathery and/or disfigured bodies on screen. No, I don't even like E.T. They belong in outer space, and I wish they would all go home and take worms with them. But since South Korea is a time of firsts, and since I do like creatures (think Doby from Harry Potter), this seemed like the appropriate time conquer the six episode feat. Episode four has been finished, and besides a stomach churning alien filled bar scene, I am a fan. 

I am also a fan of cashmere. I had an encounter with it this weekend, and let's just say it's delightful in every way. I will never be able to hear the word or wear the sweater without thinking happy Korea thoughts.

The good news is that my time here is not done. I am only half-way there. I have more time to make more memories, and more reminders. And I am realizing that I have more control over my time here than I have chosen to realize. Saying it's just five weeks relegates my time here to a temporary existence, reminding me of only the things I need to get by. Think single small pot. But there is room for me to make a few things my own, and there is gratification when that happens. 

In light of that, I took the time this past weekend to purchase a table of my very own. The payment was merely the effort it took for me to carry it from the trash corner where it sat to the comfort of my little home. It didn't know if it would fit, or if it would be practical. I only knew that I liked the way it looked, and that I wanted it. So I carried, and cleaned, and rearranged, only to rearrange again. It finally found its home next to the refrigerator, against the wall, under candles and books and also Cedric the gnome.

When I come home now, after teaching or partaking in one of the reminders previously mentioned, I look over at my table, and think about how I have somewhere to sit and eat, or sit and write, and I am thankful. It feels like I brought a piece of me here, and I am affecting the place; it's not merely effecting me. And I am glad that the table that was once headed for the dump is instead here in this apartment, right where it should be, reminding me that I am too.  

eggs and vegetables and kindness.

I would like to dedicate this post to my Aunt Mae. Today is her birthday. She defines the saying, "beauty has no age limit," as she has always been beautiful to me. She taught me how to cook scrambled eggs, to always eat my vegetables, and showed me by her behavior what it means to be kind to all. 

Today I did not eat scrambled eggs when I woke, but if I would have, I would have added a little water, cooked them over a low heat, and stirred them constantly.

I did, however, eat my vegetables. I made some soup in my pot that was made for soup, and I added potatoes, broccoli, and asparagus. And it was delicious. 

I can't say if I was kind to all. I hope I was, as I am always hoping, especially with the loneliness factor, that all are kind to me. 

Happy Birthday, to one of the most beautiful, kind, and caring people I know. 

pot cooking.

Upon arrival in this grand country, I was granted the use of a few necessities. A bowl, plate, fork, knife and spoon...and also a pot, for all of my various cooking endeavors. Throughout my days here, I have stuck to using just this pot. If I want to cook two things at a time, I have to decide which would be better less hot, cook that first, clean the pot, and then cook its pairing. 

Do not pity me, however. I could easily purchase a pan or skillet at Lottemart. I was just there last night. Thirteen dollars and I could make a four course meal. But I don't want to dip into my ice cream fund to pay for the new pan, as the pot is a (free) loaner. And I have actually enjoyed the challenge of figuring the best way to make toast in a pot whose base is smaller than the slice of bread. When I wake up in the morning, I am not in want for anything material. 

So, in random order, here are a few of the things that have graced the base of my reddish pot that I am sure I will grow to miss once I return, well, home. 

Pancakes. When pairing them with eggs, the pancakes are made first. Choosing which to cook first was a difficult decision, but the outcome was delightful. The real challenge is the awkwardness of the spatula, and scooping it at the right angle in relation to the depth of the pan, so as to not fold the pancake in half instead of flip it. Folded pancakes are so disappointing to me. 

Scrambled eggs. Easy enough. Though greasing of the pot is essential, as they like to climb the sides. 

Cheese Omelette. The key here is to not use too many eggs. Otherwise it's more like a quiche that's not bendable.

Toast. As mentioned before, the pan is smaller than the bread, which makes for an awkward distribution of heat. The challenge is sliding it around in the appropriate times increments so as to get the most even browning of bread possible. 

Grilled cheese sandwich. Same challenge as toast, multiplied by two, with the added flip difficulty I talked about with the pancakes. 

Hot tea. No real trouble here. 

Curry Soup. When making this, the pot is actually in it's element. Everyone's happy.

 

pairings.

I really love to bake. I have an emotional attachment to my apron. I haven't had the heart to throw away my sifter and buy a new one, even though the wire mesh is no longer attached to the side of the cylinder. I should buy a share in an Irish company that imports unsalted butter to the US. I don't use a mixer because I like the idea of stirring batter the same way they did it before mixers were plugged into electricity. It is the opinion of some that my elitist attitude toward mixers is a little pretentious. Call me a pretentious baker, and then refuse one of my cookies. Go ahead. 

Since being here in Korea, I have not had the opportunity to, well, bake. I believe I have mentioned that dryers and ovens are a luxury. The dryer thing can be remedied, as I currently have my laundry hanging over every door or cabinet in my apartment. But I can't substitute the doors and cabinets for an oven. 

I can, however, substitute a toaster oven. I remember my friend Renee telling me she was going to try and use hers to bake a cheesecake. And my friend Shaya had one in college, if I remember right, and used it to bake cookies. I have personally never baked anything in a toaster oven, but when asked if I could, I said YES. 

I though I would have to substitute bittersweet chocolate for cocoa powder, as I had not been able to find cocoa powder here. As I am googling the conversion, the renter of the apartment where these magical brownies were going to be made let me know he actually had cocoa powder. He said it in such a casual way that I wasn't sure I heard him right. It was like gold to me, so I was expecting something more like, "OH MY! I HAVE COCOA POWDER in MY CABINET! PLENTY for YOU TO USE for YOUR BROWNIES!!! ISN'T that just simply FANTASTIC!". My reaction to his calm statement of possession more resembled the tone of the last sentence I typed. 

I did not have an apron, so I did get flour all over my pants, but I did have a baking helper. My friend Hyerin helped me make the batter. This was really pretty great because not only is she an excellent cracker of eggs, she had also never had fresh from the (toaster) oven, made from scratch, gooey delicious brownies. 

I didn't mention this earlier, but one of the other things in this world that I truly love are margaritas. They, too, are difficult to find in this part of the world, along with their sibling, Mexican food. While I was pseudo sifting the cocoa powder into the melted butter with a vegetable strainer, my friend Houston was pulsating the blender with the ingredients for homemade margaritas. 

The timer on the oven dings. The blender stops blending. There I sit, with an ice cold perfectly proportioned margarita in one hand, and a still-warm-from-the-oven brownie in the other, and, well, there is nothing left to say.

finer things.

I wish I had the ability to step out of a moment, and stay there at the same time, so I could see me in all of the ridiculous and mundane situations that I seem to find myself. If I could have looked at myself sitting alone in a Pizza Hut in South Korea today, where the only English words that are understood are pepperoni and pepsi max, and the majority of communication happens by the pointing of my finger, I am sure I would half cried laughing tears. It really was quite funny to me. So was the fact that I spent thirteen dollars today on a personal pan pizza. I didn't want to risk the addition of corn (why I went to a name I could trust), and I really wanted pizza.

My waitress seemed a bit perturbed that I did not want the shrimp pizza concoction with onions and green peppers that she pointed out to me. She let me know, with an exaggerated, forced, corporate sales initiative induced smile that it was "delicious". I didn't want to disappoint her, or Pizza Hut for that matter, but I don't like shrimp, and I really wanted pepperoni. 

The highlight of my meal (aside from the fresh from the oven cheesy crisp-but-not-too-crisp pepperoni pizza) came when the nice girl who was not my waitress wandered over and offered to refill my drink (with the trusty point). I know it was likely her job, but she did it with such a kind smile that it made me feel a little less out of place, and a little less alone during a solo late lunch. 

Drink refill girl: If you are single, I know a really nice man with an equally kind smile. He drives bus number twenty-two (one of them), and I think it could work. 

On my walk home, the sky was so incredible. It was stormy today...there was actual Oklahoma-like house shaking thunder! Anyway, that gave way to some really affecting clouds.

The clouds on my left were a beautiful tragic mix of blues, moody violets and deep grays, as if to remind those that took the time to look up from their painful distractions that they aren't the only ones. And if they took the time to look to their right, at the other side of the sky, they would have seen the brightness of the sun peaking its way through the clouds that covered the rest of the day...The intense sun rays against the odds of the clouds that were trying to keep them from getting through, reminding us that we have so damn much to be thankful for. 

And finally, a remnant from my trip to Seoul last weekend, a memorable and fun moment for me...I saw a table of three taking photos of each other, and then struggling with the "let's get us all in this one" picture. I offered to take one for them, and they were so appreciative that when I finished, and went back over to my table, they ventured my way and offered to take one of us - a "gift to take with" I think they said. 

goodbyes.

There is a time and a season for everything under the sun, they say. The time for my EC3 class ended today. This is the lowest level class I teach, and the class I have to raise my voice the most. It's also the class where I get to spend three hours with the infamous Ian.

I had to wrestle his vocabulary study sheet away from him today. He wasn't ready to stop studying, despite the fact that I was passing out the tests. I ripped the paper retrieving it from his grip. And then he growled at me. This all happened after I had to help him wrangle his head out of the sleeve area of his sleeveless shirt. He had managed, I am sure gracefully, to get it stuck there.

Getting the study guide away from him was difficult, as well as maintaining control, as I was as tickled by his obstinate way as I was frustrated by it. In the end I won, and he gave me the evil eyes.

Toward the end of class, as they were bagging their belongings to leave, I saw him over at his desk, sitting still for the first time in the entire three hour class period, writing a note and covering it with his arm. I smiled, and thought it was likely a hate letter to me given the tone of his previous growl. The boys around him giggled, looked over at me, and giggled some more.

On his way out he hands it to me, and tells me to close my eyes, while he writes something on the board. He told me to keep them closed, and he slipped away, not wanting to see my face again. The dry erase board had the words "I like you" scribbled nervously in his ten year old handwriting. The note said this:

Hi teacher! I'am Ian.
Many times you teach me.
Sometimes I'm very crazy.
I'm sorry. Today is last day.
I very sad (sad face) Meridith teacher.
Just short time but I can
learn from you so I was very happy
teacher I like you
From now on I promise you
about study. I don't play in class.
bye teacher bye teacher
If I can I will visit your house.

Ian, I like you too.