Some time ago Honey and I were exploring one of the local shopping malls. This mall, in fact, furnished us with the inspiration for the previously mentioned Birthday Duck Feast. The megamart there carries geese, duck, and pig offal as a matter of course. In addition to this wondrously stocked emporium, the mall is home to a Hawaiian bbq joint. Just about everything there is fried, or marinaded in a sweet sauce. It's fantastic! I even got them to halve the rice and double the macaroni salad. My lord! Honey and I began to frequent the place, and on one of these trips my roommate Sailor Moon (don't ask me, she chose the nickname) and I convinced him to try the spam musubi. 

Generally, Honey is a very sensible person, the kind of guy who likes his warm, comfy, ugly sweaters and finally admits that they are ugly when he sees his partner (ie: me) wearing them. Those sweaters have now been donated. Honey likes things his way, but is willing to see reason.

When I proposed sharing an order of spam musubi I knew the greatest obstacle would be getting him to try it. Once he consented I knew he would enjoy it. Sailor Moon encouraged him and modeled the correct response by ordering a portion for herself. Honey gave me a skeptical side eye, but put in the order.

A few days later he called me.

“I went to Costco and I did a terrible thing.”

“Oh dear. What did you do?”

“Guess.” Honey is also the kind of guy who ages rib eye primals in his home refrigerator. What in the world could he have gotten himself into at Costco?

“Uhm...” then I started to get excited, “You bought a whole frozen lamb!”

“No, I bought spam.”

“What? You got spam at Costco!? How big is Costco spam?”

“8 cans.”

“You got an 8 pack of spam?” I started cackling in that way which indicates I have absolutely no sympathy for his plight.

“Yes,” he sounded ashamed.

“Don't worry,” I said, “I'll help you eat it. Sailor Moon will too.”

Those who know me offline are aware that I despise almost all forms of exercise. Rote, repetitive movements, meat heads grunting and dropping dumbbells on the floor, chicks in pony tails and ear buds running on treadmills... all serve to repel me. That is why "discovering" yoga felt like a revelation. Not off putting fashion lalalimey, or unattainable cirque du soliel yoga, but actual "tell the instructor you got a bum knee" yoga with copious blocks, straps, blankets, mats, bolsters, and even chairs.

I speak of Iyengar yoga. In the class I wandered into were senior ladies doing sun salutes next to hard bodies and chubby bodies alike. These were ordinary people striving, learning, tipping over, and trying again. At one point the students stopped and helped each other feel what it's like to be in a perfect down dog: shoulders broad, neck relaxed, and a straight line from hips to hands. The whole thing was lead by a tall elegant man with a mellifluous voice and a humble papa bear personality. His words of wisdom echo in my mind even outside of class: ”you are your own guru,” ”do what you can do, be happy with what you can do,”"lengthen the exhale," and of course, ”soften the face." I knew he was conducting class with me in mind when he asked us to stand with our feet together, "heels touching, big toe mounds touching," then followed this directive with the adjustment, "those with fuller thighs may stand with their feet hip width apart." "Yes!" I thought, "He's looking out for me!" That first day I took heart, stayed, and learned.

The Iyengar style is actually perfect for a pedant like myself. The detailed instructions and emphasis on precision in alignment make certain that you learn properly and help reduce potential for injury. At the same time it is wonderfully flexible (haha, get it?) and you can modify at will to suit your needs.

Since then I have also sampled Kundalini, Hatha, and Vinyasa styles. While Kudalini was too hard, the Hatha classes were too soft, and Vinyasa was just right, Kundalini taught me something incredibly important: always drink your chai.

Yogi chai tea is just the thing to help your body recover from a great yoga class, no matter what style you prefer. I make it caffeine free with rooibos, while traditional recipes call for a tiny amount of black tea.  It will soothe your muscles, stoke your digestive fire, and save you from flu season. I swear by it and drink it by the gallon. In fact I am drinking some right now to speed my recovery from a sprained ankle because ginger helps inflammation. Even if it is all placebo effect I don't care cuz the stuff is delicious! 

A few weeks ago Honey and I had dinner at a french bistro. We had routinely walked past it in favor of other, more familiar restaurants since it opened about 3 years ago. In a fit of adventurousness we decided to give it a try. We walked in and the hostess had a rather strong accent such that I had some trouble understanding her. Then our waiter had an accent and I could hear wisps of Gallic conversation coming from the kitchen. Wow! This place actually is staffed by real French people! The food was wonderful: pork for him, duck confit for me (we all know how much of a fan of duck I am). The wine pairings were impeccable, but what truly stood out for me was the crème brulee. 

This dessert was smooth, silky, with more of a custard quality to it than other crème brulees (cremes brulee?) I’ve had before. This crème brulee blew away all the others I’d ever tasted. As I spooned the custard reverently into my mouth I became convinced that the key was a higher egg to cream ratio than “ordinary” “american” cremes brulee, such as those served in steakhouses. Yes, a quality steakhouse can serve a fabulous crème brulee, but this one was a revelation. These French people know their business.

Oh, and I had promised you a food high in vitamin D. This is it! Aside from oily fish (which make dubious dessert ingredients) and artificially enriched dairy, egg yolks naturally contain vitamin D. Crème Brulee, the most delicious health food around!                 Click to read more -------------------->