Sorry in a hurry

March 15, 2008

Filed in: The Home Front, The Way We Live Now

I was raised Catholic and Irish, eating meat and potatoes for suppah every night (’cept of course on Fridays in Lent).

I’ve moved away from all of that to one degree or another. But like a salmon back from the sea, once a year I return to the karmic/gastro landscape of my birth. Which is a long-winded way of saying: it’s the high holy season in Boston when St. Patrick’s Day and Lent stage their annual smackdown. Guess who wins every time?

So tomorrow, we’re going to Ma’s to eat corned beef and cabbage. If you think I have anything disparaging to say about this meal—a large, extremely fatty low-grade cut of beef, pickled for God knows how many days or weeks or years in brine, then cooked for hours in a large bobbing vat of cheap root vegetables—you’re sadly mistaken. I’m a salt fiend, baby, and I’m in like Flynn on corned beef. 

Then, because I have been too silly busy with this or that life-altering project to pay attention to this supposed season of atonement, I’m doing a one-week Lenten blitz. Rather than giving something up for 6 weeks of sacrifice, I’m giving it all up for one week of pure purity: in order of painfulness (from low to high): no meat, no sugar, no wheat, no dairy, no caffeine, no alcohol. Did I mention painful?

Actually, it’s a bit refreshing once you get over your caffeine headache and Chardonnay jones. Steel-milled oats for breakfast, brown rice thereafter, vegetables, fruit, nuts. And nothing else. Whenever you crave anything, drink green tea.

And wait for redemption Easter morning. Wish me luck. I’m already sorry.

Update: Okaaaay, well, that was a fast week (puns intended). I did pretty well, not 100%. Missed caffeine every morning, wheat all day long (pretzels! crackers! my salt-based carbs!) and alcohol all night. Wednesday I caved and had a juice glass of Chardonnay after coming home late and limp from yet another confrontational Swellville budget meeting. A girl needs a crutch, even during Holy Week.

Then Saturday night my friend F, who I don’t much get to see and who has had a tumultuous 2 years, came over unexpectedly for an impromptu dinner, and the whole shebang went out the window 6 hours early. Oh, well. As I said, good, just not great.