If you know me well enough, you know that there’s one room in the house that about a good thirty to forty percent of the time I spend at home is spent in this room alone.
Stereotypes aside, that room is the kitchen.
Now I consider myself a ‘good girl’ in that most of that time spent doesn’t insist of shoveling food in my face. I’m usually cooking, sometimes cleaning, or am typing away at my laptop at the table, pretending to be productive.
Now I’m losing weight. And you’d think that as a cook that “Oh, well it’s fine. Millions of options. You can do lowfat cooking. Lookit Curtis Stone!”
Which I do. Yay me.
With one problem. I love to bake.
And I mean
Love to bake.
You know what my brother got me for Christmas?
The Professional Pastry Chef by Bo Friedberg. My (new) Bible. This.
I work with yeast, with scratch ingredients. I can whip up French breakfast puffs in five minutes. To use Bisquick or a frozen pie crust is a sin equal to punching kittens or New Coke.
And it’s never low fat blueberry muffins or vegan brownies. No. It’s all virginal, carby wonders of caloric baked nirvana.
I won’t lie. I’m good at it. Considering it for a career. But trying to lose weight…
Now I have a few limits when it comes to baking. I don’t fry anything nor will it contain anything more than half a pound of non-fruit filling. Nor will it be involve chocolate or cocoa powder unless it’s just part of the garnish.
And I don’t personally eat a full serving if it’s over 200 calories and I haven’t worked out beforehand. Just how it is.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to take a walk. My house smells like bread and I’m dangerously close to stabbing at that fresh Country loaf I’ve got cooling.