FTA NEWS — Sunday, November 6, 2022 — WHAT’S COOKING?!

— I seem to be undergoing a transition of sorts from where initially, alcohol cessation was all about the ways and means of getting it done—arriving at that point of no return—to now, increasingly, towards a more observant and deliberative consideration.

Preface

Kind of like: the chicken or the egg; what comes first? Do you get plastered because life sucks and it's an effective acute-pain reliever for that; or, is it that you typically drink for a multitude of reasons (or excuses), it eventually gets out of hand, and then proceeds to 'suck' up your life to the point that alcohol becomes a veritable coping requirement?

"Oh, boy...I could really use a drink."

...Or is it both, since the real answer to the question about chickens and eggs is that there's not the one, without the other. They're inexorably integrated, inseparable.

But still...I can wax philosophically or psychologically all I want, but it all has to meet a single criterion for me:

Does this nugget or tidbit or realization or actualization or idea or aha moment...bring someone to the Easy Place? Because let's face it: you're probably not going to brute force this thing to success. If it sucks, then it's likely going to get suckier and the suckier it gets, the more likely you are to fail.

...But fear ye not!

...That failure can be "magically transformed" into success, see? All you have to do on the back-end of failure is float the notion that it was just a test to show that you actually can abstain and now the test is over.

See? "I can quit anytime I want!"

...Though I've surprisingly not faced this [what would be] understandable criticism anywhere, it nonetheless nags at me a little. What am I doing, essentially creating what purports to be an authoritative gospel for kicking the bottle when I've been at it such a short time?

It smacks of unbridled exuberance—like when you're a kid and had your first beer. Or, you've discovered a hammer and so now, everything is a nail.

But that's just me and has always been me. Once I really get into something I take it up with a very rapid gusto so I can master the essentials, which is a process of shit-canning most of what's out there, leaving only the valid stuff. That's why most stuff is easier than it looks—or is purported to be by those seeking your money. They want you to think it's hard. Not to worry. They're here to help.

Those with the most just and valid reasons to ask you for compensation are those who are constantly simplifying, clarifying, and deconstructing for ease of implementation and better chances of success. Others continually complicate, obfuscate, qualify, manufacture exceptions, and issue rules that are self-serving, requiring endless guidance and management.

C'mon, look how simple I make shit: don't [eat, drink, or do X] too much, too often. What's amazing is how damn difficult it is to get out a simple message like that, undercutting all the abject bullshit. It's because it's perceived to be obvious, so of little value. Ironic, that, isn't it?

In most things being touted and marketed, "simple steps to..." are never simple. Rather, they are intentionally near to impossible. But all that will be laid out in the next release, at a good price...and so on.

— I stumbled across something today, read it, dropped a comment about it some other place, and then left it alone.

Until I couldn't.

I sat there eating my first food in 19 hours—courtesy of an almost daily fast—time restricted feeding, eating window, whatever— and looked down at my 159 baht ($4.15) plate of grilled pork and chicken, with mushroom sauce, green peppercorn sauce, mashed potatoes, smoked pork sausage, and grilled vegetables...then realized I'm eating something that many a diet zealot loves, and that another hates.

...What I'd seen was a head-shaking post by Amber O'Hearn recalling an experience with potatoes she hadn't touched so much as a bite of in over 2 decades. I seem to recognize the name, perhaps from the Paleo Daze—and apparently, she switched trains at the station at some point, in favor of a high-fat, low-protein keto/carnivore dogma approach.

Yep, I'm perpetually straddling dietary salvation and condemnation both, in nearly every meal—all of them falling short of either someone's dietary prescriptions or someone else's proscriptions. And on deeper sociological examination, isn't that part of of the point of different diets as such, and in the first place?

It starts with chocolate and vanilla...but oops, both are proscribed by some dietary catechisms, allowed only in moderation in others. And unless there's an Ice Cream Diet^TM, I don't know that either are prescribed anywhere...unless perhaps the chocolate is 70% or greater organic cacao and then it might fall under the grudgingly allowable for some. I digress.

I'll go into detail over Ms. O'Hearn's post, below.

So what constitutes the ideal inspiration for a jump-to-the-front blog post more than that? I mean, just look.

This was at my favorite place in Rawai, JeePhueng Phochana and Steak House, a hole-in-the-wall owned and operated by a trained-chef hubby & wife team who met while working in a fancy hotel restaurant on the island, pre-Covid. Unique in the world, a "Thai" restaurant that serves only Farang food, but at Thai-normal prices. It's less than 2km from my place, I've walked over and back a number of times. Every time I go I end up meeting Thai folks who've become Farang-food fans, as well as the astute Farangs, and the regulars, like myself.

My friend Jackie, for instance—a former 2nd-baseman for the Phillies way, way on back—eats there every day for lunch. Everyone says the same thing: 'love the prices but we come here because everything is so good!'

And then I thought about the dinners I cooked at home the last two nights and it's the same thing. Love & hate on the same plate, depending upon which dogmatic dietary perspective one pays homage to adheres to...practices. There. I fixed it.

Wait until you see those marvelous, mouth-watering photos. But first, the setup.

Two days ago I was in Lotus Fresh, a Seven Eleven-sized offshoot of the Tesco Lotus chain and I walked past the most beautiful pork filet I have ever seen in my life. And that's the truth. A good inch and 1/2 thick, perfectly marbled, with a thin strip of fat that would turn singed and succulent over a grill flame. I had to have it, though it would set me back 69 baht ($1.80). I pared it with a boiled potato and bathed the entire shebang in a tarragon chicken-stock reduction sauce, dusted with black pepper and cayenne for a wee bit of kick and a Lagasse BANG!

Then down the aisle, an equally attractive, thick chicken breast with its skin called to me at only half the price of the pork. So I got that too, for last night, and that lower-carbohydrate meal was paired with mixed stir-fried vegetables and garlic, tossed in unsalted butter. I did the same thing with tarragon and chicken stock, but added a smidgen of milk for a southern flair.

I trust you'll be able to tell which is which.