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Yesterday’s salad was the second half of Monday’s salad.
Today’s salad was the garbage salad I’d promised you weeks ago, ceasar with pesto chicken from Food World. I used to order this every day with an Oreo brownie when I worked on 45th Street. I loved this meal. I’m not sure the frequency with which I consumed it, but I loved it. Loaded with dressing, cheese and so many crutons it was basically like eating a sandwich; pesto dressing that zinged…the salad sung to me. It happens. I’ve really got an unhealthy relationship with food.
I ate that lunch once when I first got here. I can’t order through Seamlessweb (we’re too far) but they will deliver if I call, although calling is a big pain in the ass, esp when you’re ordering with a credit card.
I’ve been so good on the ratio. This is the first time I’ve ever tried it with no cheats. No crutons. No mouthfuls of bites. I’ve had 3 packages (individually wrapped) of peanuts in case I have to starve off the headaches and dizziness that I sometimes get and 3 portions of guacamole in the salads that I’ve eaten when I was sick. I’ve fallen away, slightly, from using the tracker to count and add everything up (couldn’t do it when I was sick, and still considering myself somewhat sick).
I’m tired, though. I read an amazing study today that says your blood glucose level is directly related to your capacity for self control. Yesterday I had sushi with what I estimated to be probably close to 1/4th cup of brown rice. It was initially heaven, and I felt immediately guilty thinking that I should’ve ordered Lady Gaga style (I read recently in an interview she orders her sushi sans rice, an idea that hadn’t even occurred to me prior). The actual choices I’d made were weak, but I ate them and had a fullness I’d never had before with sushi.
I’m battling myself over sweets. I’d kill a man for a cupcake. I’d kill 2 for a dozen. The sweet tooth, no matter how much I work at it, it isn’t going away. I soothed it twice with this weird creamcheese egg deal I added splenda to, but it’s not a work thing. It could be when I get my tiffin—whenever the hell that will be. But it isn’t now. And now all I want is a cupcake.
The ratio is working. But I’m fighting it tooth and nail. And it’s fighting me. I haven’t given in yet but the closer I get the more uncertain things become.
The photo is blurry because I had to take it on the fly. Sorry salad bloggers! (no one is reading this)
So much has happened, blog that no one reads. Last Wednesday I ate the tiniest leftover portion of my Tuesday salad. I drenched it in dressing and it was fine. But it couldn’t keep me from my impending sickness. I got so sick. I still AM sick. I am sick with this kind of unknown fire and fury that is probably just pnemonia or something that I need to go to a doctor for and I can’t. I was out of work for the rest of the week.
Over the weekend I ate two, possibly three salads. My Chipotle standard—lettuce, tomatoes, chicken, cheese and guac. The guac was special because I felt like fucking shit, and since it was the only thing I could even vaguely taste or work up an appetite for I didn’t care. The second was an analogue from Benny’s Burritos/Blockheads which I wanted desperately because of the different balsamic dressing. The lettuce ratio was off, but there was guac too and it kept me from tearing my insides out.
My hunger has been so weird with this illness. I haven’t indulged any of the foods I wanted; the sick comfort foods too delicious to list. The ratio. The ratio! I already felt miserable and I can’t taste much of anything. I figured the pursuit of taste would make me eat more and make it all worse. I think this was a good plan. It didn’t feel good at the time. Sometimes it was almost overwhelming and exhausting. But the sheer amount of mucus, I think, draining into my stomach is confusing my senses. Also the fact I’m breathing at max 20% capacity. I eat only a little bit before I’m not hungry any more, or maybe I am. I eat only a little bit before I don’t even care any more.
This is a Chop’t—one of the new seasonal salads. It introduced the dry rub BBQ chicken (tastes fine, I guess, maybe?) but most importantly the TOBASCO RANCH. I think this makes the whole thing taste like salt and vinegar chips. I can’t be sure! But what I can be sure about is that I am happy.
I also opted for the carrot shreds. What the hell. The ratio doesn’t allow them, but shreds I figured weren’t a big deal. I added broccoli and bacon to the chicken and cheese. It’s a good salad. I’ll eat it tomorrow too, probably, unless I become famished at some point in the day. And I’m looking forward to really tasting the dressing at some point.
It looked more lackluster than it tasted; this is the remains of the (Fri)day so to speak. Two solid cups of soggy bacon, chicken and cheese although not enough of any one particular item. I need to start crafting this on my own; increasing the cheese, crisping up the bacon.
It was a long way short from the regular 3 cups, and although close to being perfect for the ratio my lack of breakfast this morning (although augmented by 2 cups of lackluster Flavia coffee) has made me hungrier than usual. I need more protein desperately. I doused it in extra dressing but still felt a little lightheaded after eating; an obnoxious side effect. 4 hours until I can check out of here and out of that feeling.
I’ve continued charting things in FitDay meticulously, dirtying a vast array of measuring cups in the process to verify YES it’s 1/4 cup of cucumbers or YES it’s 3 tablespoons of mayonnaise. I need a scale; I think it would be easier. It’s not a sexy project, but like this blog itself I hope to look back on the evolution of things and to soon have a log two, three, four, six or 12 months long; each noted and worked over to refer back on. Who knows when and where and why I’d ever refer back to them, but it gives the whole procedure a kind of scientific precision that rivals my previous hobby of Internet dating as vaguely productive distraction.
My stomach has been fine as I now embark on week four of this project; leading me to believe that I have literally no idea what was going wrong.
It’s Friday, and all the assistants around me are ordering pizza and cupcakes. I don’t know what they eat on most regular days (just noticed that I never pay attention to this). I think they bring they lunch, which is what I may start doing. I just have this horrible horrible hatred of packing the night before. Always have, dating back to regular elementary school.
In a related but unrelated note, I had a really good workout last night at my retarded gym. I love it—it’s part of a franchise that I’ve found I frequent most reliably and did so for about 3 months in my brief flitting with getting in shape; but it’s a 40 minute subway ride and nothing in New York is worth a 40 minute subway ride. But I went, and it kicked my ass, and my lower obliques (is that a thing?) ache now a little when I laugh. The thing that makes men look like Barbie dolls where their legs attach high, very high on their torsos. I’ve never felt those before.
Working out last night has made me both insatiably hungry and much, much less. Those assistants may have pizza, but they do not know the joy of ordering this from JustSalad—and eating the equivalent of bacon dipped in ranch dressing (I’m overloaded with sodium. I love it but it’s almost too much some days). There’s not a lot better than that (except for bacon in onion dip. Been there, done that). Lots of lettuce (much more than Chop’t yesterday). The buffalo chicken is spicy, the hunks of cheddar are great (I love hunks and not shreds when it comes to salad), the poblano dressing is really nice and the cucumber and celery add a nice addition to essentially a buffalo chicken salad. If I could find a buffalo sauce I was really crazy about—and worked out all the particulars of having to dress the chicken the night in advance—I would make this for myself on the regs.
I’ve betrayed you, dear blog-reader (you don’t exist). But more importantly, I’ve betrayed myself. With the salads and the eating I’ve been trying to reach the perfect threshold to maximize my energy and get the most out of a day; to reach full thermogenic capability of my body. I’ve been winging it, doing some basic math in my head, and not using the full science of the internet to my advance. How disappointing it was to find out that I’ve been overdoing it on the salads (delicious, delicious daily salads) even when cutting portions in half. The Golden Ratio is out there, and I’ve been way off.
So it means I’ll have to reign in science and my own lunching and start creating salads from home, or opting for this relatively optimized one from Torinos again.
Chop’t. Amazing. Regretful. I don’t want to talk about. Tex-Mex Ranch, Chipotle vinaigrette, and I caved in and went with crunchy onions. It was a symphony in the bowl and in my mouth. Damn you crunchy onions! You’ll be my demise.
I needed this salad. But I regret it with every fiber in my being. (I also ate the whole thing; half at noon and half at 4:30. But it was a slow day, and I was as hungry as the sun)
Torinos again executed a perfect delivery, from Seamless to lobby in 10 minutes time. Pretty impressive, buddies.
The restaurant had this salad already assembled for ordered (you know, the classic flavour profile of cajun chicken, tomatos, cucumbers and ceasar dressing) and I threw the other options in. It’s good. The site of red marinated chicken covered in cheese and dressing makes me very happy (although the ceasar was eh, I may go with ranch next time). The cajun chicken is HOT and has a great flavour.
I’m so hungry today I feel like I’m going through puberty so I drenched the salad in the full fat dressing (despite the gross “lite” muscle milk instant breakfast in the break room fridge) and I’ve already drank 100 ounces of water. There’s a very possible chance I may eat the whole damn thing.
Friday’s salad on Monday. It got weird over the weekend, but that didn’t stop me from demolishing it in half a second. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten a salad so fast in my life. Not bad all in all.
Have I found it? Is this is? Is this the long saught after salad delivery place that is going to make all my dreams come true? (Torinos Gourmet Kitchen, for those keeping score). The guy showed up in 20 minutes when I ordered at 11 (unheard of) with a bursting at the seams package loaded with protein and other fillings (except bacon should be labled as ‘Bacon bits’—ugh, those things are weird) and they’d brought giant contianers of both dressings I’d requested (usually a crapshoot).
My reluctance to eat salad these days is because I order the same damn things over and over again (and now often eat them for two days, or dinner + lunch) multiple days in a row. I need to branch out, and this place might be the place to do it.
Although I’ve gotten to the point in this salad a day experiment (9 workdays in) where I am tired, tired, TIRED of salad I continue to persevere. I want a chicken sandwich from Toastie’s, or a wrap, or a disgusting slice of pizza (or Pizzacone). And yet, I soldier forth. I broke my own ‘no low fat dressings’ rule for Green Cafe, a create your own pictured above.
I was persuaded away from my bias to try a chicken salad with walnuts and basil that was eh at best. The dressing is ancho chipotle something, which they had to come back and deliver after trying to insist it had been mixed in (say what?). It tastes like someone added red pepper and smoke in a bottle to French dressing, which is to say it’s sweeter than I’d prefer but all in all not bad. I was not thrilled by definitely pleased.