A friend told me her dad sent her a medical newsletter, and one of the questions could have been written by me. The writer wanted to know about broccoli slaw—one of my must haves. You can buy it at the grocery, in the produce area, near the mini carrots. Really, it's just shredded broccoli, which you can mix into salads, or, in my case, just about anything at all. The writer wanted to know if the broccoli slaw, which is made up primarily of shredded broccoli stems, was just as good for you as broccoli florets.
Turns out, that the stems are not as full of all of the antioxidant properties found in the florets, but are a greater source of fiber.
It's facts like these that tend to fill my brain. Others know about vintage baseball cards or engines in cars, about breeds of dogs or the latest fashion trends. I know about food, nutrition, calorie counts, and now the odd fact or two about my friend broccoli.
It occurs to me not everybody lives this way. My sister's husband is studying for the BAR exam. This is a big test. At the class he is taking to review the material, the teachers reminded all the students that the one-hour lunch break goes fast, so have a plan in advance. And, they warned, don't eat a lunch of all carbs, which could trigger a bout of sleepiness.
What, my brother in law wanted to know, were carbs exactly. I was dumbfounded. Sure, he's studying every waking moment for three months, but 'What is a carb'?
Then, when my like-minded friend and I sat own for dinner, we immediately began to evaluate all of the menu options. As soon as the waiter came over, my friend asked if there was any whole wheat pasta in the kitchen.
No, sorry, just what's on the menu, which meant the two of us began a debate with ourselves and each other, on what would be best to order. She eats no sugar or carbs, while I still avoid fat, and really don't like too much meat. But, I didn't want to make a dinner of white bread and pasta either.
After much bickering and discussing and questioning, us two crazies ordered, and debated the merits of our decision after each bite. And the next table? We couldn't help noticing that the two couples at the next table were eating cheese. And white bread. And more cheese.
While my friend and I spent our pre dinner time evaluating the menu, and our actual eating time examining every bite, the couples at the next table were laughing and joking and conversing about, oh, movies, the election, their gardens—and practically swigging the olive oil.
Now, olive oil is a good fat, I know, but the one guy was using a fork to stab slices of bread, and completely submerging them in oil. Then, his mozzarella, basil, tomato salad was also completely doused. I mean, this already comes in oil, for God's sake.
His entree was cheese tortellini in butter sauce. He smothered it in fresh grated parmesan, which prompted my friend to note that he should travel to restaurants with a portable defibrillator.
They may have had laughs and fun and eaten exactly what they wanted, but my friend and I were full from something not even on their menus: smug self-satisfaction. And, that's almost as tasty as cheese tortellini.
