I Can't Believe It's Not...Yogurt?

Recently, Stonyfield Farms Organic Yogurt has been airing a "30-Second Healthy Meals" commercial on the Food Network. In it, on a set that looks suspiciously like Rachael Ray's own "30-Minute Meals" set, a man says you can save a lot of calories and fat by substituting their yogurt for butter, mayonnaise, or oil in recipes.

I have to admit, this amuses me to no end. It's clearly a jab at Rachael Ray's fat-laden, oil-drenched "recipes," which obliterate otherwise healthy ingredients like lean proteins and vegetables by smothering them with EVOO-that's-Extra-Virgin-Olive-Oil and a pound or so of cheese. And the irony is that the commercial often airs during her shows.

Although their mild criticisms of Ray would certainly win them points with me anyway, Stonyfield's low-fat plain yogurt has also become a new favorite ingredient for my ongoing culinary experiments. It is much thicker and tarter than "regular" yogurts like Dannon, more similar to the Greek yogurt that I learned to love in London, with a great texture that stands up well in sauces and dressings (and it has no added sugar). It's delicious topped with a few berries and granola for breakfast, or as a tangy, tasty substitute for mayonnaise and sour cream. For example, yesterday I made a traditional chicken salad with shredded chicken, pecans, granny smith apples, and plain yogurt rather than mayonnaise. The result was tarter and more refreshing than the original dish, which I've enjoyed for years.

And, oh, last week, thanks to the goodness of my Secret Wren Friend, I whipped up a Five-Spice chicken with steamed broccoli and cashews, tossed with just a bit of plain yogurt at the end which tamed the heat of the spices just a bit and made a creamy sauce for the vegetables. Just delicious!

So thanks, Stonyfield Farms, for not only making a quality product but taking the time to make fun of inferior products. It's appreciated.

Travel should take you places.

That is Hilton's new 1 billion dollar (yes, you read that right) ad campaign for its chain of hotels and resorts. It's also rather self-evident: travel, well, does take you places. Hence the "travel" part.

But Americans, who are already among the worst-traveled people in the world, may be going to far fewer places following an announcement by American Airlines that the carrier will begin charging $15 for the first checked bag. This comes a few months after the scandalous $25 per-second-bag charge that irked me so much a few months ago that I had to blog about it.

You see, I love my travel. I've flown over 20 flights in the past year, mostly on Delta (I'm a slave to their frequent-flier program and the lure, however false, of free travel), and even though the flight experience itself tends to be categorically awful - delayed or canceled flights, frigid cabin temperatures, surly attendants - I absolutely love the feeling of landing and exploring somewhere new. But, like so many other Americans, I'm also working on a budget. And that budget isn't helped by the recent skyrocketing of ticket prices. For example: in 2004, I paid $485 for a round-trip economy ticket to London in July, whereas the same ticket, with the same airline, cost me $1056 in 2007. Flying now means sacrificing Starbucks and shoes, my two principal indulgences, but I'll do it if it means I can grab a few days in Europe.

Unfortunately, American and other airlines (Delta Air Lines, Northwest Airlines and US Airways Group are all considering following suit) penalize travelers like me for precisely that cost-cutting impulse. They don't charge the first-class passengers (i.e. those who could afford the surcharge) for additional bags; first-class is still allowed to check up to three bags at no charge. But the steerage passengers, in addition to having to pay $1056 for their cramped 16 inches of toe-numbing personal space and $12 for an inflight salad, now have to cough up $15 if they want to bring anything along with them on their travels. (And, given the tourist impulses I've observed, they'll likely need the $25 for the second bag to hold all the stuff they cart home.)

This new charge won't impact me as much as some of my fellow travelers; I've almost perfected the art of a self-imposed carry-on-only travel policy, and have gone as far away from home as Denver, Toronto, and London with only a 20" upright. This may not sound like much - Tony Bourdain and Rick Steve proudly trumpet their ability to fit a month's worth of travel accouterments into a duffel - but for me, this is serious forward progress. When I studied in London for a semester a few years ago, I had to buy a second suitcase to lug all my things back home. It was bright pink and so large I could curl up inside it with room to spare. I shudder to think of what Delta would charge me to check it these days.

No, what I object to here is the idea that the budget traveler is a golden goose, there to lay as many eggs for the airline industry as possible before being savagely ripped apart and devoured...okay, perhaps the metaphor doesn't extend that far. But it's painfully obvious to me (especially after having flown in first class a few times) that the airlines consider the coach passenger an inconvenience from which as many fees and surcharges are to be sucked as possible before being crammed into what feels very much like a sardine tin and then ignored for however many hours it takes to reach the destination. And one day the airlines may find that - like the peasant who killed the goose eager to get the last bits of gold from it - in their attempt to extract every bit of cash they can they've destroyed our ability to spend any money on travel at all.

Scarves don't kill people, people kill people.

As some of you may know, there's a huge controversy surrounding one of Rachael Ray's recent fashion choices. Now, considering that some (nay, most) of her wardrobe choices range from dreadfully ill-advised to downright hideous,you may be asking, why the sudden outcry? After all, she's been abusing the tucked-in tee-shirt and too-tight jeans for some time now. Shouldn't the masses have been outraged before?

Well, wonder no more. It would appear that Rachael's latest fashion faux-pas has deeper roots than appalling color choices. Apparently, Rachael's stylist really is out to destroy her boss. If one believes the outraged posters on web forums and even Salon.com, Rachael is wearing the kaffiyeh, what one blogger calls the "explicit symbol of Palestinian terrorism."

Yes, you read that right: Dunkin' Donuts, far from being the mere promoter of underwhelming fried goods, is a supporter of terrorist organizations.

Now, I loathe all things Rachael Ray, so it pains me to say this, but wearing a scarf just does not make one a Palestinian sympathizer. No, not even her. First of all, the kaffiyeh is a form of headgear popular throughout the Middle East for its sun protection; it's not exclusively Palestinian. Second, if Wikipedia is to be believed, both the British and the American military often wear kaffiyeh while on duty in the Middle East due to the protection from sand and sun that it offers. And finally, as seen in the picture on the right,

Rachael is clearly not wearing it on her head, which would seem (to a rational observer, at least) to sever the connection with, well, headgear. Furthermore, the scarf's pattern is not the traditional black-and-white checkered design associated with the Palestinian region; it's a paisley, a design imported into Western fashion two hundred years ago from India by way of Scotland.

So while I'm sorry to have to report that Rachael Ray is not in fact involved with some evil design to destroy the world (at least this time), the simple fact of the matter is: it's a scarf, people. Take a deep breath.

The Next Food Network...Star?

I've been seeing advertisements for the next season of Food Network's version of American Idol. In this show, Bobby Flay - who has turned himself into a FN whore, I'm sad to say - hosts and judges (along with guest judges who include Rachael Ray, gag) a number of contestants who are competing to win their own show on TV.

Previous winners of this show include Guy Fieri. While he's certainly not as bad as Sandra Lee, Rachael Ray, and that lot - he seems genuinely personable, and genuine is indeed a rare trait on the FN - he isn't much of a cook. In an episode of Dinner: Impossible, which I used to like before I found out that chef Robert Irvine is a fraud, Guy pulled a host of frat-boy tricks in order to win the competition, including turning off Irvine's gas stoves and using pre-breaded, frozen chicken tenders and pizza in his "dishes" for the target audience, a group of children. His "cooking show," Guy's Big Bite, involves him making huge meals, and his traveling show Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives shows him giddily shoving entire kielbasas into his sizeable mouth while proclaiming "That is capital-K crunchy." (No, that's not a typo.) While this is certainly media savvy, it's not cuisine, and it's not really talent that I think should be broadcast. I could "cook" with chicken nuggets and stuff my face with 1-pound burgers. I want to watch cooks on TV who show me how to do things I don't already know.

But even that clear lack of culinary skill and/or training is not the thing that irks me most about The Next Food Network Star. In one advertisement, the contestants are being shown getting makeovers as they bounce towards the kitchen: their hair is magically cut, their style magically resembles Ted Allen's, and their makeup is flawless. They're all very attractive people, well-lit, and smiley. But I get the feeling that this show is more about how these people present themselves than any actual talent (very much like American Idol). That would certainly be consistent with the Food Network, which latches onto marketing ploys like Paula Deen's love of butter and hyperbolize them until their hosts become caricatures of themselves. I used to like Paula Deen too, before the FN gave her a "makeover" and turned her into a lascivious grandma who can't put enough butter into anything and makes googly-eyes at her young male guests.

What saddens me is that I don't think FN is looking for a "star" chef a la Mario Batali or Martin Yan, someone who knows how to cook delicious and elegant food and understands the traditions behind those dishes, as well as how to cook them. I think they're looking for another Rachael Ray, someone who can pose in FHM and look cute and talk loudly and cook gimmicky meals that have next to no nutritional value, but hey, they're ready in under thirty minutes or they're a "big bite." I guess that makes for entertainment, but I'm watching for the food. Or I was.

Now, just about the only saving grace of the Food Network is Alton Brown (and the reruns of Tony Bourdain's "A Cook's Tour" that FN optioned). Let's hope they don't try to make him over too.

Khalil Gibran, on Friendship.

Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.
And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.
For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared,
with joy that is unacclaimed.

I cannot express my feelings for my friends in clearer words than those. As I've said before, I love Khalil Gibran.

I like the last line, too, about "unacclaimed" joy. Too often I think we try to "protest too much;" we get so caught up in the hyperbole of friendship, that we would die for them, lie down in the streets for them, etc., that we forget about the quotidian traits that make friendship really worthwhile. Real friendship is seeing a coffee mug with terriers on it and thinking, "That would really make ______'s day." Even if we ourselves don't like terriers. It is giving without expectation of return, only hopes for the other's joy, because that is the return which is most satisfying. It is the knowledge that no matter how ridiculous your fears and desires are, your friends will never laugh at you, only with you as you struggle for maturity and clarity.

And yes, sometimes friends are lovers too, but I think we forget the friend bit of "boyfriend" or "girlfriend," and I think that is part of the reason for our insanely high divorce rate. Sex is lovely, and I'm certainly a fan, but what happens if you are so wrapped up in what you need that you forget the "unacclaimed joy" that comes through giving of yourself unreservedly to another? It's a big lesson, and one I am still working on, but I aim for that every day, and I like to think I'm getting there.

For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
Seek him always with hours to live.

My friends, you will live in my heart always.

An intriguing concept.

The idea here is to say things to five people, using no names, being completely honest. My therapist recommended it! So here goes.

1) I have hurt you in ways that I can never undo, but you are precious to me and I adore you. I wish I could lift some of the burden of pain you struggle with, but you will have my love and respect always. You haven't always been perfect, and neither have I, but I think you're a damn fine woman and I will treasure forever the gifts you've given me. Because of you I have the confidence to stand up to bullies, defend my beliefs, and go after what I want, yet I also understand the meaning of sacrifice and compassion. I wish I could somehow explain in words how much you have affected my life and my very self, but I can't, and I'm no songstress, so I can't even say it with music, but I hope you know how much you mean to me. Even when you drive me nuts (and yes, that still happens, and I imagine it always will) I adore you. You are an amazing person and I grow to cherish you more every day.

2) You were my first love and my first heartbreak. And you don't know that you were either. Things work out for the best, I think, and I hope you're happy, wherever you are. Sometimes I wonder if I wasted my time on you, but I think in the end, as the Muse Herself says, "You live, you learn, you love, you learn." And learn I did.

3) My dear, I would do anything for you, whether it be talk with you all night or drive seven hours to support you at a wedding you don't want to be at. You never fail to have a wise word or a shoulder to cry on, and sometimes you have both. I continue to find things to admire about you. You are a treasure and one of the best and most genuine people I know. I've seen some of your flaws, and I know you aren't perfect, but I think you know that too, and that is what makes you so strong. Friends like you are my heart and soul and strength, and I am so blessed to have you. You will go far in this world, dearest, and I look forward to seeing that. I think we'll be "friends till the end of time."

4) You claim to be "genuine" and that a particular person "has strong misconceptions" of you, "won't talk to you about them" and "is surrounded by people who feed him these misinterpretations and reinforce his beliefs." Yet you can't seem to understand that he can't talk to you because you have walled yourself in with defensiveness. I used to count you as a friend (before I realized you were never genuine about your feelings towards me), and you still have admirable characteristics. I wish you were more the man you could be, because I'd probably still like you, but now, you're the fakest person I know, and you're unconcerned about your honesty: you never bothered to check whether anything you've told others about me was true before you spread the lies around. I've been where you're headed, and it's a lonely world when you're the grandly misunderstood one who's really right. You underestimate this man's will and his intelligence to assume he could be "fed" anything, and those who truly care for him wouldn't do that anyway. Sometimes, you have to be willing to let go before you can hold on to what you want; you don't seem to know this yet, and I doubt anyone can help you, but one day I hope you wake up, and I hope that day comes before you've wrecked beyond repair all the relationships that matter most. It only gets harder the longer you wait; trust me on this.

5) You and I haven't always had an easy time of it, but I unreservedly love you, and I want nothing more than to grow old with you. It's taken me a while to appreciate exactly who you are, and I still have so much to learn, but you made me rethink a lot of my ideas and dogmas, and you consistently offer me the challenges I need to grow. When you smile I remember exactly why I fell in love with you in the first place. I can imagine my life without you, but I don't want to. Even though you frustrate the hell out of me at times, I love my life with you in it, and I would, really, do almost anything for you, not just the "I'd lie down in the streets and swallow swords" crap but real sacrifices. I think you know that. You have a great heart, and I am blessed to have your love. And "even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music," I hope we will continue to be our independent selves while sharing that music.

On the Attractions of Ink and Heritage, for Lauren.

So, ma cherie, this is pour toi.

To be honest, I am not sure what motivates women like Isobel Varley. I can't see myself ever going to that extent, but what I can say is that it is certainly a rush to have something inked permanently onto your flesh. It becomes a part of you, in a way. I look at my ankle and I remember deciding to get it on a whim and meeting the insanely amorous Arab who tattooed me and charged me half-rate because he liked my red hair, and offered to marry me so that I could live in London with him and attract customers to his shop. It was an adventure! I think this association with certain memories may be a driving force behind the growth of the obsession; also, the tattoo becomes linked with adrenaline-charged experiences, and therefore you seek to recapture that feeling through another tattoo.

That's mostly speculation, however; it's not quite that addictive in my case, although I really do want another. I think another attraction of them is that they are colorful and as permanent an accessory as one can have, and if you're a woman as into her accessories as I am, you're always eager to get another bit of bling, so to speak. I think in this way tattoos are much like piercings; you incorporate your style into your very flesh, which can be misguided (e.g. clit studs, which sound like primitive torture devices, or "I Love Jesus" tattoos, which assume you won't have a midlife religious crisis) or expressive of your essential self. I like to think mine is the latter.

Lauren also says, "I don't get the whole being proud of your heritage thing, which is another issue entirely, I suppose. I mean, we could've been born anyone, anywhere, at any time... and frankly, nationalism is responsible some of the worst wars ever...so I don't get how something so arbitrary is something to be revered."

While I think she has a point, I disagree. As a military brat, I never learned to form deep connections with one particular place, and in fact that's damaged my ability to write strong fiction, in which the sense of belonging somewhere is so terribly important. Like Jean Rhys and Gertrude Stein and all those emigrants to Paris in the 1920s, I'm still searching for somewhere to be. I've found homes away from home in London and Edinburgh, both cities to which I feel a deep, emotional connection, but I've yet to find a place in which I think I could belong wholeheartedly. And perhaps I won't. Some people are forever wanderers.

Yet I connect very strongly with my heritage, although I separate that from nationalism. I am not particularly nationalistic; like Gertrude Stein, America may be my country, but London's my hometown. (All right, Gertie claimed Paris, but to each her own. I like my cities historical and damp.) I think nationalism is the idea of one's country being superior to anywhere else, and it is indeed very closed-minded and responsible for violence...as any other system in which one is made superior to another is. And that is the crucial difference I see between heritage and nationalism. As the descendant of fairly recent immigrants (my maternal grandparents were both immigrants from Europe) I connect quite strongly with heritage, which I see as a sense of history and belonging to people that I have never developed with a particular place (although London is certainly close). It's not the sense of feeling superior to others, as nationalism is, but of feeling connected to them. And while I respect my Irish and Scottish ancestors for the hardships they endured and the strength with which they faced them, I also realize - due to the fact that I'm also English, Spanish, and German - that I really am a citizen of the world, and that all of those cultures are part of who I am.

This next part will undoubtedly meet with skepticism from a few, but I also believe we likely have lived many lives before, and that our experiences in the past colour who we are now. For example, I have a deep, visceral aversion to zombies: I sleep with a nightlight because I am terrified they will materialize out of the dark, and I cannot watch films with them. This fear I attribute to having a bad experience with them in the past, which makes my survival instincts now much keener in that area. (Don't laugh; prove me wrong.) I have also experienced deep déjà vu in several places in England and Scotland connected to the Howards, to whom I'm distantly related. I've found my way through places without maps, and gotten chillbumps in warm rooms. So in a way I connect deeply with my heritage, because I believe it is quite literally part of me in both a genetic and a more deep, memorial sense. I carry forward both the memories and the genes of those who preceded me. And because of that I have strong connections to my history, and am proud to wear its symbols on my skin. Not because I feel it is superior to anyone else's, but because it is mine.

But, on the other hand, having so many different countries in my blood and lives behind mine has served to fracture me in other ways; I suffer from acute wanderlust, largely because I don't feel connected to any one place, but to all places. And I don't feel that any one country is the best in the world, because so many different nations course through me. I don't know whether this has enlightened you any, my dear friend, but it's the best I have for now.