I had a doctor’s appointment today, and I got weighed. I’d avoided my Monday weigh-in yesterday because over the weekend I had not one, but two croissants, the frozen kind from William Sonoma. I bought them back in October for the holidays, but plans changed and I ended up going home, instead of my family coming here. So I never ate them. They’ve been sitting in the freezer since then. My intention was to make only one, but they were frozen hard and the least number I could get out was two. And you know what? They were o.k.  They were good. No, really, they were quite good, but… They weren’t the taste explosion I expected them to be. There could be several reasons for this.

  1. They’ve been in my freezer since October, so they might be a little freezer burned. Whoops.
  2. They over-rose. My kitchen was probably closer to 80 degrees than the 72 they recommend and they looked like small pale balloons Saturday morning. And finally,
  3. I think I may have built them up way too much in my head.

Deciding to even bake them was a huge deal. Because if I baked them I’d eat them. What would it do to my stomach? What would it do to my blood sugar?  And the one that never goes away: what would it do to my weight?

These things are expensive: $40 for 15, plus shipping. That’s more than $2.60 each (it’s very sad I had to figure that out on the computer calculator; my lack of math skills is embarrassing). That’s a lot of money for a croissant I have to cook myself.  I’m at the point where I’ll order a sandwich and not eat the bread, but I’m not willing to throw out Williams-Sonoma croissant kind of money. Plus, I’d wanted to order those croissant for years. And finally I’d declared myself a true foodie and done it.  I wanted to taste them, to see what all the fuss was about.

And, they were good. They could have been flakier but that was probably because they rose at least twice as much as they were supposed to. They were like mutant grocery store “crescent rolls” instead of real buttery flaky French croissants.

Saturday morning I sat with the freshly baked croissant. Just one. No TV, no music. Just me and the croissant, and the cultured butter. (I’ve decided that if I’m going to eat carbs, they need to be buttery to keep the high fat ratio going. My carb intake might have been 25% that day but it wasn’t more than that.)

I took off a piece, still warm, buttered it and put it in my mouth. It did not overwhelm me. I did not swoon. I did not roll my eyes into the back of my head in ecstasy. It simply tasted good. And from that first bite I knew I would not eat the other croissant. At least not right then. I knew it was manageable. I knew I wouldn’t bake one every day until they were all gone. I felt calm in that knowledge.  I let the other one stay out and get stale. The next night, I dunked it into an egg and milk mixture and made French toast out of it, using the big bottom half to soak up the yokes of two fried eggs. YUM!! Now that was a taste sensation! The smaller top, I dotted with maple syrup. It seemed too sweet. Not as good as the eggy buttery bread with eggs on top.

I’m not really depriving myself by eating low carb, paleo, primal, whatever religion you want to call it. I don’t want it to be a religion, is what I’m saying. The less I think of it in absolutes, the happier I’ll be. Does this mean I’m going to make this a monthly thing? Maybe. It’s kind of turning out to be an every six weeks I splurge kind of thing. Is that bad? Considering I used to get something sweet with my coffee almost everyday in the afternoon, not counting candy and chips and anything to feed the constant hunger? Hell no that’s not bad!!!

This morning at the doctor’s office, I weighed in at 202.7 (I could be wrong on the .point). That’s almost two pounds down from last week 204 (no decimals). I’m down about 10bls since mid-january, if I’m counting from 215. If I’m counting from 220, which I may well have been it’s about 15. That’s not counting the epic carb binge in San Francisco (Tartine, Humphry Slocombe), or the croissants a mere two days ago. I’m going home next weekend. I’m going to eat my mother’s cooking. And I won’t feel bad about it. I’m in this for the long haul.


April 13, 2011. Tags: , , . Uncategorized. Leave a comment.