Grocery shopping as the new luxury experience

After going grocery shopping last night, I'm not sure that anyone is going to be able to shop cheap anymore. Why?

A large jar of mayonnaise was ON SALE for $7.90. I bought the small jar, which was on sale for $3.59. I think that is what I used to pay for the large jar. 

Worse, most of the pies in the freezer case were $10. Ten bucks for a pie? I bought one on sale for $7.99, only because I needed a quick dessert for a get-together the next night; otherwise, I would not have paid $8 for a pie.

We are a middle-class family and in the past, I've never worried about buying the occasional pie when we were having guests over. In the earlier part of the year, the price of pie was hovering around $5.99, and I stopped buying them then because I thought that was too much. 

It's even worse at the natural foods store. Last week, at the funky health food store I go to every now and then (because it seemed cheaper than many of the slicker natural food stores), a 5-lb. bag of whole wheat pasty flour was $12. Organic milk was $7/gallon. The cheapest apples were $2.99/lb. I used to squirm (even last spring) at spending $5 for a 5-lb. bag of organic flour. I left with few things in my bag, mostly bulk organic teas and other things I can't get elsewhere.

This has me fleeing more and more to BJs, a wholesale club I belong to, where prices are a little better for things you buy in bulk, as long as you're not particular about whether something is organic or not. It looks like the 50/50 organic/non-organic compromise I wrote about in my Sept. 1 post is already giving way to something more like 40/60 or even 30/70.

But the worst thing in all this, for me, is that it's starting to hurt to go food shopping. Buying food used to be the one thing I could spend money on fairly guiltlessly—new clothes for me can always wait, furniture can wait, the latest DVD can wait. But food was a necessity and healthy/organic food was a reachable goal, for the most part.

Maybe it would be easier to adjust to this new price scale if our electric bill hadn't doubled this year (due to state restrictions on pricing being lifted, not on our suddenly using more electricity), gasoline wasn't hovering around $4 a gallon and our first heating oil bill of the winter is expected to be somewhere near the cost of a semester of college tuition in the 1980s.

There's something wrong when you have to examine your budget in order to buy a frozen pie. We can still manage to put wholesome food on the table, for the foreseeable future, simply by avoiding such old luxuries as high-end cuts of meat and expensive wine, and such new luxuries as frozen pie and organic grapes. Yet, we're still going to be struggling just a little bit to pay for groceries in the coming months—and we're not poor. What are poor people going to eat?

An unsuccessful showdown with Picky Eater

Maybe because some people I know have read this blog and have commented that their children like vegetables (because they gave them vegetables, etc.), D. and I were inspired to make an ultimatium to Picky Eater (PE) a few nights ago.

We told her she would have to eat what was on the table or was already in the refrigerator as leftovers (which would only require warming up); we would not make her anything else. Dinner that night was tamale pie, which contained three things she doesn't like—cornbread, black beans and visible tomato chunks. We thought we might have success that night because she had been complaining how hungry she was before dinner was served.

She sat at the table and her eyes welled up. "I don't like beans," she said. We told her she would have to try at least one spoonful of the cornmeal crust and the meaty interior of the casserole before we would go to the fridge and see what we had for leftovers. We were firm but not anxious or angry. Several choking sounds later and with only half a spoonful of cornmeal successfully swallowed, she escaped to a living room chair where she puckered up and felt sorry for herself.

We tried to leave her there and told her that was it for the night since she didn't even eat a whole spoonful. But I felt terrible. This is a child who is very skinny and who has always had a problem eating anything that looks exotic or which has sauce or spread on it. She doesn't seem to have any food allergies or sensitivities (except maybe to red dye, which we avoid), so I don't think that she is subconsciously avoiding food that would make her sick. I tried not to chide or bother her, though at one point I reminded her that in the Little House books they ate cornmeal mush every night.

I asked her to go ahead and finish her homework, without her having eaten any dinner. It was a pitiful scene. If it had all been put-on (as in a spoiled kid wanting three desserts and nothing else), I probably wouldn't have felt so bad. Finally I asked her if she would like some sushi rice, which was in the refrigerator, cooked a couple of days before. She brightened up and said yes. Without telling her beforehand, I threw in three Trader Joe's chicken potstickers. This was met with authentic joy when it was set on the table. I added carrot sticks and a glass of milk, and she ate everything up.

That was it, I didn't give her a dessert. Still, I have a little bit of doubt whether I was a bad parent for having given in, especially since we'd already issued the ultimatium. She is one of the nicest kids I've ever been around, so I don't think an occasional give-in like this one is going to make her a spoiled brat. I know that some parents would condemn me for the give-in (especially the kind who insist that they potty-trained their kids by their second birthday and never fix anything separate for their kids, etc.). Maybe the problem is in issuing an ultimatium in the first place, in a circumstance in which it probably wasn't going to be successful.

Where are the "what we ate" food logs?

In case there are any readers out there wondering why I haven't been posting my weekly food diary of what my family eats (and how we manage to make the same meal/food work for varying tastes), the answer is a little complicated. Read on if you're interested...

It all began the week I posted my essay on the avoiding-cancer diet. One of the suggestions was to avoid smoked meat; another was to avoid beef. The same day it was posted, we had grilled steak for dinner. D. splurged and bought steak and grilled them outside as a last hurrah to summer. So, I put off writing up what we had eaten that week, thinking I'd sneak it in later, when the two posts might not sit next to each other.

As I held off posting my meal log, I wondered what good it is doing anyone. It is sometimes so repetitious that it is not inspiring that many new meal ideas. Then I realized the thing that would help me would be to chart the repeats, to try to see what I am primarily serving the family, notice patterns (too much pizza on Fridays?) and see if I can schedule a little more variation. To do that I would have to cut and paste each entry into something like an Excel database. But that's just too much work at this point, especially for questionable returns.

Then it hit me—-Blogger is essentially a database, with labels that show frequency of post topics. If I create a separate database/blog just for meals, and log each one as a separate post, the labels would start to show the patterns. In one month, I would be able to see that I served foccacia five times, etc. Plus, taking the food log out of Cooking for Four would leave more room for essays on food and the sharing of shopping tips, etc. I can still write a review of the week's offerings with "why this didn't work" posts/comments.

So I've started a very minimal blog just for 2008 meals. It's called What We Ate in 2008. http://cffwhatweate2008.blogspot.com/. It's not really worth your time—I'll be using it as raw material for this blog in the coming weeks. It may evolve into something a little less minimal; if it does, I'll suggest you look at it then.

How much sugar...?

The first thing you need to know about sugar is that one teaspoon is about 4.2 grams. With this information, you will be empowered (and amazed and horrified) when you start to look for sugar content in Nutrition Labels on food:

• One cup of Stonyfield Vanilla organic yogurt contains  contains 30 grams of sugar—that's 7 teaspoons. 
  
• 8 oz. of Pepsi has 28 grams, according to the Pepsi web site. But a can of Pepsi is 12 oz., which means that there is 42 grams of  sugar in a can, or 10 teaspoons. 
  

The second thing you need to know is that one teaspoon of sugar has 15 calories. 

I haven't been able to find a recommended intake/limit of sugar except on weight loss web sites, which isn't helpful for me since no one in my family wants to lose weight.  So the only thing I have to go on is the MyPyramid.gov's Discretionary Calories page, which says that in a 2,000 calorie/day diet, you have 265 discretionary calories—that includes fat, alcohol and sugar. So, I guess, you could eat unsweetened and fat-free food for breakfast and lunch (yuk) and  blow all your discretionary calories on a can of soda (105 calories from sugar alone), a little gravy on your dinner entree and a dessert.

The problem with the Discretionary Calories guide is that, at least on first glance, it doesn't distinguish between calories from good fats (like olive oil) and simple sugars (like soda). And it doesn't distinguish between different kinds of sugars. I still believe that some sugars are better than others—that real maple syrup is better than a syrup made primarily from high-fructose corn syrup; and that sugar can be used appropriately—that a tsp. of honey in unsweetened yogurt is better than a tsp. of sugar on top of already-sweetened cereal. MyPyramid doesn't seem to make any distinction. 

In my effort to reduce sugars and fats in accordance with a sort-of cancer-avoidance diet I've been following (see previous post) I've cut out most sweets and desserts.  I rarely eat ice cream now; the only sweet/indulgence I have on a regular basis is a few squares a day of really dark chocolate; and I haven't drunk soda in years, except a few sips at parties when nothing else is available. 

I haven't cut out all sugars, nor have I tried to do it too rigidly. If you told me right now that I absolutely had to stop eating sugar, then I'd want it more than I do now and I'd think about it all the time. That's one reason I could never be a nun, and why I think weight-loss diets are so difficult for most people. The more you say something is off-limits, the more most people want it—which is why the diet industry is  always guaranteed to perpetuate itself. 

Sugar has a usefulness. Who wants to go through life eating bitter and sour food all the time? Figuring out when it's useful and when it's harmful is the tricky thing.

Reducing your risk of cancer through what you eat (hopefully)

For various reasons,  I (M) sort-of adhere to a diet that is supposed to put me at lower risk for cancer. This somewhat changes what I cook for everyone else. For instance, they eat bacon when I don't and they probably eat more sugar than I do.

These guidelines come from no one source, but from the advice of two nutritionists and several doctors who have given me sometimes conflicting advice, from which I've had to pick and choose.  I share them with the disclaimer that neither these guidelines nor any product/lifestyle/supplement can absolutely guarantee that you won’t get cancer. I offer them realizing that they may prove to be no more than whistling in the dark, but I'd rather whistle than cower there, helpless.

• Strictest: Be a vegetarian and avoid all animal fats.

• Less strict (this is what I'm doing since I would find it hard to be vegetarian or vegan because of my range of food sensitivities and dairy allergies, and my need for high calorie intake in order to maintain weight): 

• Eat beef no more than once a week  (I’m wondering if this is true only of hormone-enriched, non-organic beef, but I haven’t found a source that justifies it)
• Don’t eat pork (I don’t follow this strictly, especially in the presence of N.C. BBQ, but I've pretty much quit eating bacon except on special occasion; I'm trying to learn to love turkey bacon as a substitute).
  
• Avoid smoked meats.

• Drink green tea, up to 4 cups a day
(You can decaf it naturally if you pour hot water just over the tea leaves, wait 20 seconds, pour off, then refill. In the winter, I pour my green tea into a thermos and then drink it warm all day. In the summer, I don’t mind it cold, or at room temperature.)

• Avoid fats.
(I avoid trans and hydrogenated fats, but taking the advice of a nutritionalist I knew a long time ago, I always use whole-milk dairy products. Her theory, which she backed up with research done in Germany, is that non-fat dairy products cause digestive problems, food sensitivities and other health problems. And I think whole milk products are healthier for growing children—it’s the fake fats and the high fructose corn syrup sweeteners that are worse for their health).

• Eat five servings of fruits and vegetables a day.

• Avoid sugar. (I can't say how much is too much sugar and I'm probably still eating too much, but I've  cut out store-bought sweetened yogurt and cut most of my sweets/treat intake down to only super-dark chocolate. I'll address sugar in a separate, future post).  

• Avoid food additives, preservatives and dyes.

• Eat whole grain products. (I hate whole wheat pasta and I mostly eat white rice, so I'm not reaching 100 percent on this one.)

• Take some supplements to support health (but don’t go overboard). For women, some studies have shown that coenzyme Q10 helps prevent breast cancer; I take 200 mg/day. Other supplements can include coral calcium, mushroom derivatives, and flax seed oil or fish oil.

• This is my own suggestion: don’t take any diet or dietary guideline too seriously or think that any diet will kill you. I think it’s far healthier to enjoy a juicy hamburger than it is to chomp down a raw salad with a sense of bitter longing or defeat.

In defense of pampering a picky eater

There's been some press lately about how parents shouldn't give into picky eaters. A recent Newsweek article, Help Kids Overcome Picky Eating commands: 

"Don’t fix separate meals. It’s hard to resist when kids are refusing to eat. But it only reinforces their biases."

The article helpfully suggests such strategies as pureeing cauliflower to look like mashed potatoes and concealing as many as eight puréed vegetables along with wheat germ "in a tasty meatball."

Well, that's great, but Picky Eater (usually referred to in this blog as "PE") won't eat mashed potatoes or meatballs. She'll only eat potatoes when they are french fried, on one of our occasional fast food forays. She will eat ground beef only as hamburgers.

For the last couple of nights, I have tried to make meals that would nudge PE towards eating what the rest of us like. The first night I made what I told her was "noodle pizza"--penne noodles squished into the bottom of a casserole dish, topped with pizza sauce and lots of mozzarella cheese.  (I made a separate pan for me, topped with goat cheese and artichoke hearts). PE tore into enthusiastically for the first couple of bites and then began to pick at it, saying she wasn't really hungry.

Last night I made Satay Chicken Stir-Fry with Snow Peas and Cilantro (from RealSimple.com), substituting the snow peas and broccoli with tiny slices of green onions and celery.  When PE asked what the green stuff was I told her "chives" ("chives" is my code name for anything small and green since she likes fresh chives from the garden, for some reason). I served it with sushi rice, which PE only seems to like when we go to Asian restaurants (there not being anything else she will eat there). 

The peanut butter sauce was a little sweet for my taste, so I couldn't see how she wouldn't like it since pb and sugar are her two favorite flavors. But she pushed at it with a worried look on her face and only ate the tiny serving I gave her when I said she absolutely had to finish it if she wanted milk.  (Demanding that kids eat is something the Newsweek article says is a no-no, but I was getting a little desperate). I think she would have drunk the milk and eaten nothing if I had given it to her with her meal.

We are listening to the "Little House" books on tape in the car right now. I was hoping that hearing about the Ingalls family's limited diet would make PE grateful for the abundance of food we have now. But if the Ingalls had had to dine on chicken nuggets and french fries every night, I'm not sure that PE wouldn't have wanted to join them.  That the child is as healthy and energetic as she is, fortunately or unfortunately, attests to the fact that maybe such things aren't so horrible, at least for the few years that she insists on eating them. At least I hope it's a few years...

A 50/50 (organic/non-organic) compromise

I’d like to eat only organic food, but I don’t (as I've said in previous posts)--not only for cost reasons, but also for lack of accessibility and convenience.

Some organic foods are more expensive (see post about organic grapes) than I can justify for the health benefit--I’m not sure it’s all that healthy to buy a couple of pounds of organic grapes and then munch on them with clenched jaw, stressed over the hole they’ve put in the family budget.

And, if I insisted on only eating organic food in restaurants, I would have to travel to downtown D.C. and eat at Restaurant Nora (America’s First Certified Organic Restaurant) or some other such fancy-pants restaurant, meaning that our family of four could only go out to eat once or twice a year. (And PE probably wouldn’t eat anything anyway, unless they offered organic chicken nuggets). Or I wouldn’t be able to eat out at all when traveling to rural North Carolina, where I’m from.

If I only ate organic, I'm afraid I would be like I was after I returned home from my first semester in college--I was a militant vegetarian and a pain in the neck to all. I refused to eat most of my family’s Christmas dinner. I didn’t eat ham or turkey, I wouldn’t eat the rolls because they were made with bleached flour. I probably ate the cooked vegetables (not even knowing the difference between organic and non-organic produce since it wasn’t readily available in N.C. in the 1970s) and maybe one of the whole wheat carob brownies I was always making and carrying around with me then. I remember my grandmother’s hurt look at this or another family dinner, when I again lectured her about the danger of bleached flour and she said, “I thought all food was good.”

Just that one comment had a huge effect on me later in life. I have tried to approach grocery shopping and restaurant eating with that philosophy. In the grocery store, I may steer my way past corn-syrup-laden food (except for cranberry sauce at Thanksgiving…) but I will buy non-organic, canned pinto beans since the organic beans there often run a dollar more; I buy regular whole wheat sliced bread for school lunches when organic bread isn’t available; and I justify eating what I know is not going to be organic chicken or meat in a restaurant because I usually eat organic or free-range meat at home.

I call this approach the 50/50 compromise—what is, essentially, a half-a**ed approach to organic shopping/eating/living (but 50/50 is a nicer tag for our family readers). It allows me to eat almost anywhere (when we occasionally go to McDonald’s, I’ll guiltlessly eat salads or fish sandwiches there, not worrying where the vegetables or meat came from) and to buy groceries from almost any store. There are only a few items I rarely compromise on in the grocery store, like organic milk and free-range eggs. Out of the house, though, I’ve eaten frozen custard and IHOP pancakes, never giving it a thought about where the eggs and milk came from.

Fifty percent (or somewhere thereabouts) organic is better than no organic at all, I tell myself. Maybe only the super-rich and super-sheltered (or people who live on organic farms) can truly afford to be all-organic. The rest of us can do what we can, arriving at whatever ratio of organic/healthy food we can afford or muster, whether it’s 60/40 or 25/75 percent, etc. The 50/50 compromise has helped me think, within certain boundaries, that all food is good.