The other day, HB made a comment about my penchant for carbs. “How can you dream of losing weight when you eat so much carbs?” I told him, “Carbs aren’t the enemy. Inertia is. Portion sizes are.” But in my case, I have to admit that the carbs that I do like aren’t good for me.
Take for instance, Japanese cream bread. It’s a delightful square shaped loaf of white bread that I like getting from Pastry House Hippo, a little bakery inside Mitsuwa (a Japanese market). What I like about it is the soft, rich, creamy, chewy white part. There’s no cream filling per se—just cream/butter as one of the ingredients. I like to toast and slather some Smart Balance on each slice and sometimes add a bit of strawberry jam or sour cherry preserves. Yummy.
Or if I happen to time my purchase right, the bread would have just come out of the oven, and I would eat a piece of heaven right on the spot (after I paid for it, of course), and then roll on the ground in sheer ecstasy (in my mind). My mom gets the wheat version and likes to make french toast with it, which is pretty good, too. But white cream bread is the way to go to feed the soul.
The Korean grocery nearby sells a Korean version of it—I think they use whole grain vs. regular white—but somehow it’s not the same. However, I do get the Korean version when they have it in stock because I don’t often go to Mitsuwa.
I know white bread is supposed to be the enemy. One of my art school professors had gone on and on about white bread being like paste in the gullet, that it stays around long after you’ve eaten it, and only by some sheer miracle manages to come out of the other end. He said, “What do you get when you mix flour and water? Paste. And that’s what you’re eating, and it’s not going anywhere for a long time.” [Insert evil, self-righteous chortle here.]
His argument about white bread didn’t sit well with me because he’d always came back in from break smelling like an ashtray. Who was he to preach about living healthy?
I thought about all the “good” foods out there that have issues—pesticides, growth hormones, e. coli/salmonella, genetic modifications, pollution, and more. It’s a miracle that we’re able to eat anything at all. And then I laugh to myself because one of my die-hard smoker friends used to say, “we’re going to die anyway, so why not enjoy what we can?” I sound no different from her.
I still like white bread, though I suppose it’s not helping my cause to whittle down. Just need to avoid the occasion of evil, right? Or keep in mind—all things in moderation.