SomaCow

I am Geoff, you are reading a blog I write. Interspersed within that blog is our podcast, called SomaCow. Give it a listen, yeah?

So, I have been trying to eat more healthy, grilling instead of frying, using leaner meats instead of steak, and eating craptons of veg.

I have found myself nearly obsessed with fish. I have never met a food that so divides people, the line in the sand being held by lovers, and haters.

My wife was a hater, once, but I think she is coming around nicely. Slowly, over time, she would allow new seafoods, starting with crab, moving into fried scallops, or fried fish, eventually into shrimp, then sushi. She even ate smelt. She didn’t fall down in love with it, but she ate it!

I think she would try sea cucumbers now. Ew.

So, if she could change, maybe there is hope for the rest of you non-fish lovers. When I go to the grocery stores, I am saddened by the lack of selection, the bleak, desolate aisle, where no one smiles and things often smell… Fishy.

What makes people so mad at a food? I guess, if I had to make a bitch list, it would go like this:

1. The Smell of It

2. The Cost of It

3. The Difficulty of Cooking It

4. F*%&ing Bones and Shells and What Not

5. Huge Pussy

I will try to work through these with you, and then you too can enjoy an entirely new (to you) meat! If you already like fish, fine, bring me over some.

1. The Smell of It - Fish can be stank, but it is a lot like other things – If it smells, something is wrong. Do not eat it if the smell is overpowering. When you go to buy it, sniff it.

It’s fun, and you will know in seconds if you are getting good stuff or need to find a new fishmonger. Don’t be afraid to say it smells bad. Two or three of those in a row will make any seafood store change gears and start getting fresher stock. Meanwhile, fish love butter, salt, lemon, white wine reductions, glazes, pepper, and a thousand other flavor bombs that will mix nicely, and even mask, any subtle smell your fool nose may perceive.

2. The Cost of It – Fish can be seasonal, fish can be local, fish can be endangered, you need to pay effing attention. Salmon can vary greatly in price, with farm-raised fillets running $6 to $10 a pound, Atlantic Salmon running $9 to $15 a pound, and Pacific Salmon running $12 to $19 a pound, and these prices were all seen at standard grocery stores.

While any of that seems expensive, it isn’t when you consider the cost of your first triple bypass is going to run you about $260,000. Copay these nuts, and get yourself some Omega 3. Try to buy stuff in season, and try to buy stuff that is sustainable, and thus, affordable, like trout, whitefish, and… shit. Go here and learn about stuff http://www.montereybayaquarium.org/cr/cr_seafoodwatch/download.aspx

3. The Difficulty of Cooking It – No bones about it, Fish is adult work. Gutting, cleaning, scaling, filleting… Man, that is hard work. Thankfully, there is a guy in a smock who will do any of that for you. If you have, you know, working hands, you can teach yourself most anything with youtube and a knife.

The secret to fish is get the oil, grill, or pan HOT. Fish want to be cooked quick, and don’t fidget with it too much. You are looking for light flaking, not rubbery flapping. Most predator fish can be served damn near raw, so enjoy playing with medium rare, etc. Pick a fish, and research it. Some need milk, some need oil, some fry well, others pickle well. There are, like, way a lot of fish in the sea, and most of them want to be eaten. Learn! Pansy!

4. Fucking Bones and Shells and What Not – Oh bones. Bones suck. Get good at finding them. Some fish have such tiny bones, you can eat them whole. Nom NOM. Most fish do not. If you are going to tool them out yourself, you need a good filleting knife, a decent skin pincher, and I’d consider a pair of food-safe pliers for pulling out pinbones. A thing worth having is worth having right, right?

I find that the effort of shucking oysters, cracking crab claws, peeling shrimp, etc. is a labor that adds to my enjoyment of the inner flesh. Debearding a mussel, teasing a clam from its shell, these things take practice, and to watch a seasoned opener in action is a thing of beauty. Call it the Rubik’s factor, but I just like food that requires some solving.

5. Huge Pussy – Denying an entire food group, especially when we have hormonally imbalanced cattle, salmonella and steroid infused chicken, and god knows how many ecological nightmares from pig farming, is silly. Humans need balance. Finding sustainable food is a responsible organism’s duty.

Ignoring for a moment the toxic fish farms, the overfishing of grouper, tuna, etc. and the general silliness of some seafood stores (thaw, freeze, thaw thaw, freeze?), fish is good food. Stop being such a pussy and eat good food. It is brain power, cell lubricant, a great source of protein, minerals, fats, oils… I cannot overstate the benefits. Although, from re-reading this, I almost have.

Whatever. Do what you want, but know this. If you eat fish, I like you more. If you do not, I think less of you, every day, in every way.

Gary of Just Push Play introduced us to a kick ass fish place up in Lake Mary called Lighthouse. They have a really high quality selection, fair prices, and we love the management. Check them out, if you are nearby!

My name is Geoff. When I am not droning here about my life, we do a bang-up podcast, which you can listen to by clicking on secret locations all over this website.

I have such doubts.

Not that I am a sissy, but I tend to overthink, overworry, and overconsider some things. Not useful things, like mortgage loans and how I treat other people, but silly things, like what is for dinner.

Since being diagnoosed with Diabetes, I have been afraid to eat at other people’s houses.

How will I know they only used the ingredients I think they used? What if they slip me a sweet tea, or there is sugar marinade on the pork? What if there are no vegetables? What if there is only pizza, or bread sandwiches with mashed potato centers!? What if there is PIE!??!

I am usually a wreck, and so I am slowly becoming a serial killer, staying in, cooking fish on the grill, hiding from you. My wife laments her decision to marry me, but that’s been going on since long before Captain Crunch came to Pancrea.

Before I got the Sugar AIDS, I had been invited over to a friend’s place, where his lovely wife was making Indian food most scrumptious. We were to enjoy Chicken Tandoori, Spinachy Cashew mania, and nine kinds of rice, all lovely and yum.

Now, after the math, so to speak, the night of the dinner had arrived, and I certainly didn’t want to cancel. I had to screw up my courage and get back to a regular life. People do this shit all the time!

I was a bundle of nerves. Will it look weird if I bring wine, but don’t drink? I lied, and said I was the DD. I am always the DD, now. It’s sort of neat, in a way, because I know I will not be making any uncomfortable calls to my wife’s mom at 2 am.

I digress.

We grabbed a dessert (Killer Chocolate Cake from Toojay’s, just because my insulin is insolent is no reason to punish the norms) and headed over.

I relaxed into conversation, my favorite planet. We grilled, talked. I watched people smoke, and kept my bile from rising. I heard about new people’s lives. I decided that, regardless of the situation, I would try everything.

As the meal assembled, we stood around a bit, and I felt that panic you always feel in a buffet line. FEED FEED FEED WHY ARE WE NOT EATING GODDAMNIT LET’S EAT NOW FOOD EAT.

I grabbed my inner voice and kicked him dead square in the Utz brand cheese balls.

We plated, and I took a bit of everything.

And therein, found success. I didn’t run from the rice, and when the bread was proffered, I took a small taste. I just kept my portions limited, and doubled up on the veg.

I snuck away to test my blood twice. Both times, under 100. Which is good, to those of you reading from Sarasota. I had after dinner coffee, which my host kicks ass at brewing, and watched them all eat cake. Not even a twitch of desire, and I even cut the damned thing.

I really enjoyed my experiment, and I am happy that I went. Maybe Diabetes is not the death of my social life. Maybe it’s just the death of that belly bursting hotsick feeling you get when you overeat.

You ever get a chance, Check out our new friend Etchie. He’s been on our show twice, now go listen to his!

My name is Geoff, an host of SomaCow, and I am trying to teach myself how to not be a psychotic eatbeast.

I’m still pony.

That’s a little horse.

The cold that I had has metamorphed to this wheedling thing, and I will be happy when it leaves here with its mucus and its itchy throat and its hazy, almost-but-not-quite sneezing.

In the meantime I am putting in some longer days at work, which requires that I leave the house at 5:30 am and get home at 7:30 pm.

I’ve had way worse schedules, and I am sure many of you do, but it’s sort of a bitch with the diabetes, and I am learning how to get through the day, camping style.

Today, my sweet Helper Monkeys packed superfoods aplenty. When I left my house I had - black coffee – 40 carrot slices – 2 hard boiled eggs – a half cup of beans – six olives - a cup of raw pecans  - a turkey sandwich with tomato on whole wheat and pumpernickel swirl bread – 4 additional slices of turkey

I was, in short, loaded for bear.

Diabetes Bear.

THE DEADLIEST OF BEARS, FOR HE CANNOT ENJOY HONEY! RARRR!!!!!!

At 6:15 I was on the road and feeling good. At 6:50 I was pulling in to get more coffee. I had already eaten three olives.

at 7:20 I popped an egg in my mouth and chewed it up.

at 7:21 I figured I might as well chase that with the olives. Plenty of good fats

at 8:00 I was nearing my job site. I munched a few pecans.

by 9:00 I was nomming more pecans.

the coffee was gone.

by 10:00, the beans made their way down my gullet, briefly alone, until the second egg came looking for them.

by 11:00 (almost lunch time!) I was worried that the turkey sandwich was getting too warm, and so I grabbed it and chomped it down. It was sooooo good.

I also munched the turkey slices. Without ice, how could I ensure their food safety status?

So, by 11:15, everything was gone but the carrot slices. I had no food for lunch, but who needs lunch when you have eaten everything in sight in one morning?

At 3:00 in the afternoon, I munched my carrots. I made them last, enjoying each bite, lightly rolling them in my mouth, savoring their sweet, a bit overhigh in the glycemic index but carotoid heavy goodness.

Or are they?

It seems that the initial rating of carrots as being too high in the glycemic index may have been a misprint, or poor science. It also seems that the carb load isn’t what we are led to believe, depending on which website you utilize. The American Diabetes Association includes recipes with carrots on its website, other sites threaten that too many can spike your blood like WHOA. Some sites cite the sight benefits of beta-carotene, some ignore it completely.

Fun, when simple queries like “should I eat carrots?” are answered with yes, no, sometimes, rarely, never, and often.

I guess it doesn’t matter, since all the carrots were gone by 3:02.

No wonder people keep dying of this shit.

You know what IS good for me? Peppers, onions, mushrooms, and smelt! Had that for dinner, and it was excellent. Super Helper Monkey Rowan helped me brush on some olive oil and pepper.

MAN were they yummy!

Tomorrow, I will try to space out my eating a bit better.