I have never been an advocate of
diets. Too short-term-ism thinking. As though your health is a mini goal to be
achieved. It is much better to become a
jerf. No, not a jerk. Somebody who "just eats real
food". Do this. With the right portion sizes. Keep active.
Sleep well, and for the right durations (for you), and let nature do the
rest.
If I ever needed proof that this
was as "scientific" as it got, the 4 weeks prior to the recent
holiday provided it. In spades.
The Body Coach, 90 day plan. Shift, shape, and sustain, each in a 4 week
cycle. The first cycle completed before
heading off to the land of food. Where the
unofficial motto is "go big, or go home".
Initially, I was skeptical. Firstly, of the amount of food that you can
actually eat. But also, the cost of it. Good food isn't' cheap. Let's not start on the opportunity cost. Of spending most of my waking hours trawling
around supermarkets for obscure ingredients, such as kinowa. What?
That is not how you pronounce it?
Silly me. Quinoa (keen-wah), the
magical grain of the Andes in South America.
However, all that aside, I soon
stopped complaining once the magic started happening. Week 1 done.
Good sized portions of food consumed, with regular high intensity
training sessions, and the kilos started falling away. Four weeks in, and on the cusp of the
overseas trip, 4 kilos had been shed.
Just like that. As I say, magic.
Now it was time to throw it all
out of the window, and binge of some of the world's best comfort foods.
I could write on and on about burgers. Believe me, I could. Limiting it to just one was difficult. So I have gone for the very first one we had
on the trip. Which was as good as
anything else we had the 3 weeks we were away.
Yes, I finally got to try the famous Californian chain of "In-N-Out",
which I loved. But they were more a fast
food style cheese burger. Whereas the
ones at Stout we more substantial.
Gourmet burgers. Thick juicy,
homemade patties. In a soft brioche bun. Washed down with a local craft beer. A heavenly start to the trip.
2.
Clam chowder - Chowder Hut Grill (Fisherman's Wharf, San Francisco)
This is my second visit to the Chowder Hut Grill. The first being over 10 years ago. And I had the exact same dish. Second time around? Amazing.
Even better than I had remembered it to be. The clam chowder was delicious, with a hint
of spice. And the sourdough bread bowl
holds up well whilst you eat the chowder, but then is soft enough to break up
when you have finished, to enjoy with the residual chowder. This is not the fanciest of places, but the
chowder speaks for itself.
If you want to try fish tacos anywhere in Portland,
try them at Cheryl's. You won't be
disappointed. The fish portions were
immense. And the salsa probably one of
the best I have had. That's before I
start on the guacamole! And as an aside,
Cheryl's was one of the best diners we visited on the whole trip. A fabulous place in the heart of downtown
Portland.
Like mac and cheese? Like it as much as I do? Well, I doubt that, but lovers of this
culinary delight should head to Beechers, at Pike Place market. Avoid the queues of misguided tourists down
the street at the "original" Starbucks, and get in line here.
Beechers self proclaim their
version of mac and cheese to be the "world's best".
After two portions, I am inclined
to agree. Using the cheese made fresh on
site, which you can watch them making, the finished goods are probably the
freshest, tastiest mac and cheese you will ever taste. Ever.
Take no notice of a little thing such as they don't actually use
macaroni. It is substituted by penne,
but who cares!
Corned beef hash.
Not the first dish that springs to mind for a lot of people when talking
about foods you crave. But me, I have
always loved a good hash. And nowhere
does it better than the good old US of A.
When we were researching food
options (believe me when I say we spend a lot of time doing this) in Seattle,
Glo’s corned beef hash was described in terms so glowing (no pun intended) I
knew I just HAD to have it. Soon.
Oh. My. God. Literally…OMG! If the portion sizes weren’t so gargantuan, I
would have ordered and eaten it all over again.
As it was, I couldn’t walk out of the diner, and had to be rolled down
the hill sideways back into town.
6. Hot Dogs - Dog Gone It (801
Government Street, Victoria, BC)
If you have ever seen the “Hot Diggedy Dawg” stand at
Fisherman’s Wharf in San Fran, and was remiss enough to not get a dog, you
would also be spending the rest of the vacation hunting down one of these
treats.
It did look as though the dog
tasting may have passed us by, but thankfully, we did find this place on
Vancouver Island. And what a treat it
was.
A classic wiener, with onions,
emitting a glorious aroma, reminiscent of fairgrounds of my youth, and one with
bacon and cheese, topped with ketchup and mustard. My mouth is watering just at the memory of
it.
And I’m not sure anybody does the “classic”
shake better. Wow.
The one that got away...
Cherry Pie - the quintessential
end to any meal in the States, is with a bit of pie. And I do love me a bit of pie. In my opinion, the king of pies is the cherry
pie. This harks back to a previous
backpacking trip through South America, where I washed up at dusty San Pedro de
Atacama in Chile, with enough money for the last piece of cherry pie in a
little bakery I found, and a coffee. All
ATMs were out of cash, and I was about to spend my last pesos on this pie. But lord was it ever worth it. It kept me happy until the next day when the
town's two cash machines were replenished. And I have lived on the memory, sat in the
plaza in San Pedro, strains of rapid fire Spanish piercing the air, like gun
fire, as the sun set, ever since. A
perfect moment in my life.
So, on the trip, it was on my hit
list to try. But, like always, when you
want something, you never seem to see it.
I could get everything from pumpkin, to pecan, to pizza pie. But my beloved cherry eluded me.
The one I didn't understand...
Having hit Canada, and found a
decent bar for some liquid refreshments, we started getting asked if we wanted
any "Caesars". At this point
we weren't hungry, and only wanted drinks, so politely declined. It was only after we noticed every bar
advertising Caesars that I decided to do a little research, and found that we
weren't actually being offered a salad, but in fact a local drink. A Canadian take on the Bloody Mary. It turns out that this Canadian concoction is
little known outside it's shores, so I felt a little less stupid. However, I never did get to try a Caesar and
will have to keep it on my list for the next time that I am in that beautiful
country.
