Good Vibrations?

I’ve been seeing articles lately about a new type of fork that can sense how quickly you’re eating, and if you’re going too fast (i.e., not enough seconds between bites), it lets you know by vibrating and flashing lights. The goal of this is to promote slower, more mindful eating habits, as well as tracking all sorts of information about your meal so you can reference the data time and presumably identify any patterns.

I have mixed feelings about this. While I appreciate the desire to help people slow down, I can think of a number of pitfalls for this approach.

First and most obvious, it only works if you’re eating something that requires a fork. If you’re having cereal or ice cream or something else that needs a spoon, or consuming finger foods, it won’t help. Similarly, it means you would need to bring the fork with you everywhere – potlucks, restaurants, business lunches, friends’ houses – which could be a little odd and distracting, particularly in a work setting.

Plus, while I realize the vibration is not meant to be harmful, and I’ve never tried it, the concept feels a little too close to a punishment. I imagine it would also be very easy to get so caught up in “obeying” the fork that you could lose sight of enjoying the food itself as you wonder how many seconds it’s been, or how many times you’ve chewed, or how many bites you’ve taken.

But my bigger concern is that this only addresses one part of mindful eating. It doesn’t help with how big a bite you’re taking, what you’re doing while eating, or, most importantly, why you’re eating to begin with. Without addressing the question of “why”, I don’t think the fork will be “the answer to the obesity problem in America.” At best, it might be a tool that could help people transition to eating more slowly and start developing different habits, but people still need to be responsible for what and how they eat, rather than leaving it to a fork.

Personally, I have no interest in this gadget, preferring a more holistic approach of savoring my food in every way, which includes slowing down so I can appreciate all the flavors and textures. It works in all situations, for all types of foods, and I’ve found that the good vibrations I get by eating that way are the only kind I need.

Boston Food Connections

Note: For anyone coming to this after the fact, on Monday, April 15, 2013, two bombs went off near the finish line ofthe Boston Marathon, and at least one was made using a pressure cooker.

A few days after the bombing at the Boston Marathon, I saw an article about reclaiming the pressure cooker. The article reminds us that while in this case the appliance was used for violence, its purpose is to prepare food, and “making food connects people.” Until then, I hadn’t considered that rather painful irony, and this prompted me to reflect on all the ways in which I connected to people with food while living in Boston.

My sophomore year at Northeastern University was the first time I had an opportunity to do my own food preparation. Unfortunately, I lived with three smokers, which meant that I didn’t want to spend much time in the kitchen. Happily, I had a couple of alternatives.

One was sometimes having meals at my brother’s apartment. I visited often, especially enjoying playtime with my infant niece, and if I was around in late afternoon, they would usually invite me to stay for dinner. I don’t think I ever said no. After all, my brother himself is a good cook, and so is his (now ex-) wife. Just about everything was homemade, including bread and I think even pasta, and I got introduced to a wide variety of ethnic foods, a far cry from the fairly standard New England fare I had grown up with, and certainly much better than anything I could get on campus.

The other option was going to a friend’s apartment. She was fortunate enough to have a single (I was very jealous), and she was also interested in doing more cooking. So I started going to her place once every week or two to try something new. Our results were mostly good, but even when they weren’t the experience was a lot of fun and brought us closer together.

Then I started in NU’s cooperative education program, designed to help students find work in their field as part of their education, to gain experience but also to see if they liked the work. It sounded great. The only problem was, I was scared to death of the whole prospect. At the time, I was just twenty pounds shy of my highest weight, which meant it was almost impossible finding good interview clothes. Plus, my low self-esteem and lack of self-confidence meant that even after I got a job, I didn’t feel comfortable taking any initiative. Since very few people reached out to help get me oriented, it made for a miserable start.

But then two things happened. One was that another student made brownies to share, and I watched in amazement at how cheerful everyone suddenly became, and how they were even friendlier with her. The other change was that my roommates moved out, and for three glorious months I had the apartment to myself.

And so I began to cook a little more, but more importantly to bake. My first foray was the one recipe I knew by heart, making chocolate chip cookies the way my dad taught me. As the aroma flooded the apartment, helping clear the last residual vestiges of smoke, I felt in a strange way as if I had finally claimed it, made it something of a home.

Then when I brought the cookies to work, they were an even bigger hit than I could have guessed. My department manager called them “heavenly,” and one of the guys liked them so much he was convinced that I had some exotic special ingredient or method. In fact, he even believed me when I said that I used magic while making them. (For the record, I didn’t, at least not apart from the magic of making food with care.)

After that, everything changed. The experience of people being nice to me and treating me with respect due to the cookies gave me the confidence to ask questions and volunteer more. Additionally, others started to include me on projects and cases. I continued to bring in cookies, brownies, cupcakes, and pie, and while all of it helped with the interactions, the cookies were everyone’s favorite.

All of this ran through my mind when I thought about Boston and food. I also found it interesting to learn that food was part of the early days of the marathon, where the prize wasn’t money but rather a bowl of beef stew (as well as a medal and laurel crown).

Those are the memories and images I want to hold onto, not the past week of fear and anger and worry for all the people I know who still live in that area, including my niece and her mom, stepdad, and little sister. And who knows? Maybe, just for the sake of it, I’ll start making more food with care, but this time using a pressure cooker.

Fueling Your LIfe

Note: This is the last of a short series of posts relating to the Mindful Eating cycle in the Am I Hungry? program, where each part looks at one of the decision points that goes into eating – why, when, what, how, how much, and where you spend your energy. This section looks at where we spend the energy we get from food. For more information on the Am I Hungry? program, visit www.amihungry.com or my website.

In our diet-obsessed culture, eating is often equated only with calories and grams of nutrients, or sometimes with guilt and shame – that is, if we think about it at all. But what if we could more often consider it as the means of fueling our life?

I’ll be the first to admit that I can’t quite think of food simply as energy; I want to enjoy it as well. But at the same time, I don’t want to obsess about food when I’m not eating; I’d rather be able to use that energy to simply move on and focus on the things I love.

This is hard to do if you’re constantly thinking about food. For instance, if you don’t have enough to eat (due to dieting or actual shortage), it can be difficult to concentrate on anything else. This struck me particularly when reading the story “In the Trenches” by Michael Alexander*. The story was about soldiers engaged in a drawn-out war, where food was both scarce and, when provided, generally unpalatable to say the least.

The protagonist wasn’t even sure how much he cared about survival anymore, until he happened to meet another soldier who had better rations. “I sat in that small cavern… eating cold, greasy corned beef with my fingers, and life began to feel vaguely worth continuing…. It’s sad, really, how thoughts of existence can turn on a can of fatty meat.” (p. 151)

Being that short of food is less likely in our society. Instead, we may constantly worry about how much we’ve already eaten, and how much more we can eat, or feel bad about what we’ve consumed. This type of focus can seep into every corner of your thoughts until you’re never truly free of it. You might even wake up in the middle of the night with your mind cycling back on that familiar track, or focus on it when you’re meant to be intent on something else. It means that you can’t ever be completely mindful of what you’re actually doing. (At least, this has been my experience with certain diets.)

And yet, those other activities are what can truly make life vibrant and enjoyable. A wonderful description of this is in Jane Eyre, when Jane is telling Mr. Rochester about how she felt when painting: “I was absorbed, sir: yes, and I was happy. To paint [the pictures], in short, was to enjoy one of the keenest pleasures I have ever known.” (p. 117)

It’s a fine balance, though, because more fuel doesn’t necessarily mean more energy. In fact, many times, eating more than you need simply results in feeling lethargic. Napping on Thanksgiving, for example, may be as traditional as turkey for some people.

Now that my eating is more truly for fuel, though, I also appreciate so many other things: playing with the various children in my life, visiting family and friends, writing, reading, hiking, volunteering, being in nature, and more. If I didn’t have enough food, or if I had too much, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy any of these. So if you’re struggling with eating, perhaps it might help to ask yourself, how do you want to use your food to fuel your life?

*From the Jan/Feb 2013 edition of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction

How Much is Enough?

Note: This is part of a short series of posts relating to the Mindful Eating cycle in the Am I Hungry? program, where each part looks at one of the decision points that goes into eating – why, when, what, how, how much, and where you spend your energy. This section looks at how much we eat. For more information on the Am I Hungry? program, visit www.amihungry.com or my website.

How do you know how much to eat?

It feels like an odd question. Shouldn’t this be obvious? Maybe, but that doesn’t mean it is.

For instance, everything packaged comes with a serving size, restaurants serve pre-defined portions, and even when you make something from scratch, the recipe indicates how many people it should feed. And for many people, the amount is more than you need.

Nor is this a new phenomenon. In At Home: A Short History of Private Life, Bill Bryson shared a mid-19^th century menu for a “small” dinner party for six: “mock turtle soup; fillets of turbot in cream; fried sole with anchovy sauce; rabbits; veal; stewed rump of beef; roasted fowls; boiled ham; a platter of roasted pigeons or larks; and, to finish, rhubarb tartlets, meringues, clear jelly, cream, rice pudding, and soufflé.” (p. 82) I feel a little full just reading it!

Yet even if we’re presented with too much, it’s hard for us to recognize that; hence the phrase, “My eyes were bigger than my stomach.” Many studies have shown how badly we judge portion size based on different size dishes (here’s oneexample). Personally, even though I know this, psychologically I still feel as if I’m eating more when I use a small dish, even if it’s the exact same amount as in a larger dish.

Which brings me back to the question: how do you know how much to eat?

My suggestion is to pay attention to how you feel, physically. Not how much food is left, or what the (suggested) serving size is, or what other people are eating, but what’s going on in your body.

The goal I am for is to eat until I’m not hungry anymore. Not until I’m full, but simply satisfied. It’s a fine distinction, but an important one. Sometimes I can achieve this with something small – maybe a few nuts and a piece of fruit – or something more substantial. Sometimes I overshoot (occasionally even undershoot), but at least it’s me making the decision based on my knowledge of myself, not some stranger’s guess, and I find that makes all the difference.