The eternal question.

How many flights of stairs does it take me to get to the center of a date?


Date generously supplied by my coworker Ian.

Pilates and...Radishes.

I'm lucky in that I don't exactly struggle with my weight. This does not mean I'm always happy with my body (curse you, media, you cults of youth and celebrity!!), but I have to be honest and admit that the issue is predominantly in my head. Sometimes I don't feel as thin as I'd like to, and I'm certainly not the beanpole I was until high school, but I'm a reasonable weight for my height. The Wii Fit balance board appreciates my BMI, my doctor is fine with what the scale reports, and everything seems to be holding steady.

That said, you may have noticed that I eat a fair amount of junk. I have a sweet tooth AND a savory tongue. I like salt and brine and sugar and peanut butter and fruit and vegetables and butter and . . . oh, almost anything. I also have certain couch-potato tendencies, a job that allows me to sit much of the day, and a number of sedentary hobbies (including writing these blog posts). So, in several respects, I could be a lot healthier. And fitter. And stronger.

My doctor asks me every year at my annual checkup if I am getting 30-45 minutes of cardio 3-5 times a week. She also mentioned once that she would like me to be a bit more flexible. Every year, I say I'm working on it. This is true. However, this year I am working on it much more seriously than I ever have before. I made myself a promise early this winter that I would aim to build healthier exercise habits (and not focus on whether or not I lose a few pounds of fat). I am interested in muscle and strength and endurance and less neck/back pain.

To this end, I purchased a 2010 New York City Yoga Passbook. For about $80 (the cost of 4-6 classes without the passbook), I received a book containing hundreds of coupons good for free classes in yoga, Pilates, the Alexander Technique, and more. This month, I began to use these coupons, which expire at the end of the year. It's my goal to take at least 40 classes over the course of 2010, in addition to doing other "fitness-y" activities.

I thought that I might as well post a quick summary of each place I visit here, in case you're either (1) interested in trying the passbook out for yourself (Chicago, Houston, and LA also offer them through the website) or (2) someone in NYC who is looking for more information on local studios, teachers, and classes.

And, of course, to keep things snack-related (or, at the very least, snack-adjacent), I'll let you know what I'm eating after each workout. Let's see if working out inspires healthier snacking post-exercise.

I'll begin with the two passes I've used since the beginning of January.

Pass 1: Two Pilates classes (Basic Mat) at Core Pilates NYC (Union Square)
Date(s): 1/13; 1/27
Instructor(s): Jo D'Agostino (for both classes)
Thoughts: I liked this Pilates teacher and her classes. She had a good energy and could speak quickly, explaining the moves thoroughly as we were doing them, which made the breathing patterns easier to follow. The first class was better than the second, but I'm not sure why. The flow seemed a little interrupted in the second class; perhaps it was me.
Core Pilates is a tiny place, but it's clean and modern. The woman working behind the desk was friendly and helpful on my visits. This is a studio and class I'd return to, especially given how conveniently located it is, just two blocks from the Union Square/14th Street subway station.
Post-Workout Comestibles: Radish salad (made by Dan) after the first class; chocolate milk, pita chips, and then an arepas dinner (made by Melanie) after the second.
Total/Goal: 2/40

Pass 2: One private lesson in the Alexander Technique
Date(s): 1/18
Thoughts: I knew next to nothing about Alexander before this lesson, but it's been recommended to me as a method that is good for posture and the spine, as well as rehabilitation. It's not really exercise, but I felt like it easily qualified as "fitness."
The Alexander Technique is something that's as much about thinking and focus as it is about doing anything. For example, we spent several minutes while I was lying on my back on a massage table during which the teacher coached me as I tried to, per his instructions, mentally "wave goodbye" to my first and second toes while thinking into my other three toes -- all this in order to un-sickle my feet.
The Technique felt a bit mysterious and frustratingly "magical" sometimes, but the teacher assured me we were making progress. I plan to take another class or two from other teachers to compare.
Post-Workout Comestibles: Chips and salsa at Papacitos', and then fish tacos. I was ravenous!
Total/Goal: 3/40

By the way, I am also taking a 90-minute yoga class taught by Laura, a friend of mine. She's offering the class almost weekly in my neighborhood, so it's very convenient. She's also a great teacher for all levels. I'm a yoga beginner, and this is the first time I've felt comfortable in a yoga class.

You know what's odd? While in a pose during the most recent class, I actually found myself thinking, "I don't need very much food to live! My appetite is gone! This is the start of a whole new relationship with food!" This turned out not to be true once the exercise high had worn off. After that week's session, I drank a chocolate milk and ate a banana, the combination of activity and refueling feeling just right [Chocolate milk never seems so luxurious as it does after exercise. Apparently it's a great post-workout snack].

My point is, just for a second there, this blog seemed doomed in the face of my fleeting spiritual enlightenment and quest for health. What's next?!

Hey, Brooklyn! Don't let my Baba die.

I don't like taking photos of my meal in restaurants. I don't want to be "that blogger" when I'm eating out. I don't want to disturb other diners, call attention to myself, annoy the staff, or delay my own eating. Plus, the light's usually too dim (and I would sooner perish than use flash in a restaurant). But my desire to avoid restaurant photography creates only a guideline, not a prohibition.

I took the above picture midway through my first dinner at Baba because I knew I'd have to write a blog post about it. No one else was eating there that night, at least during the course of our meal, and I got worried. The food is too good and the staff too friendly (and it's too conveniently located) for it not to survive.

Initially, I was a little unsure about the place. I took a sewing class there last year, back when it was a boutique called Maiden Hong Kong, and I felt loyal to MHK's owner and identity. I was sad when MHK closed its doors, and only somewhat cheered up when I heard that "a cheese shop" was moving in. But Baba didn't shut down Maiden Hong Kong, and I do like cheese, so how could I penalize this lovely little restaurant/cheese shop/specialty grocery?

I say it's part grocery, but that's not a large part. The few shelves with dry goods don't take long to browse. We went for dinner, and I fell deeply for the food and the friendly staff. Someone cooked me a chicken leg torchon, which was like moist medallions of meat sauteed in something wonderful (I'm guessing butter) until crispy on top. I also had a heavenly polenta (again, crispy on top) and some bitter chicory sauteed with garlic. Dan ate pork with burst grapes and something-else-that-I-didn't-pay-much-attention-to-because-my-food-was-so-good. I really think the chef must love cooking. And eating. And me.

The prices are perhaps a touch high for the neighborhood, but the food was so charming, and cooked with such evident care, that I want Baba to survive and thrive. I want to make it a neighborhood joint. I could realize my dreams of becoming a "regular" here, with a little time and care. But I need you to help me.

So, please eat there. I mean, don't go crazy (I'd like to be able to get a table without an overlong wait), but if you're in the neighborhood you've probably been to Dumont a hundred times already. Think before you retrace your footsteps to another "same old" place. Try something new! Preferably this something new. And then tell me all about what you ate and what you think about what you ate.

Baba is at the intersection of Powers and Lorimer, just so you know, in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. If you're not in the neighborhood, but you can get to the G or L train easily, I suggest you take one of those subway lines to the Lorimer/Metropolitan stop and then walk over to get dinner (or meat or cheese, if you're not that hungry) at Baba. Let's all do what we can so I can keep eating there.

p.s. As this blog post went to press, Baba waitstaff were in the habit of distributing strong, chewy, tiny licorice drops at the conclusion of each meal. Remember how I don't like licorice (mostly)? It's growing on me.

So far, I remain unsponsored and sorry about that.

If any local restaurant owner or chef wants to pay me (in food or gift certificates) to write about how awesome his or her fare is, I'm open to the idea. Especially if that restaurant is Buttermilk Channel. Because, that's where Matt got the dinner we ate for his birthday a few weeks ago, and it was resplendent -- moist chicken with a slightly salty breading, cheddar-filled waffle wedges, a thin and sweet syrup (tasting slightly of balsamic vinegar?) bread & butter pickles, coleslaw, and candied/bacon-flavored almonds. I now wish to try everything on the menu, once I can stop hyperventilating with delight.



While we're on the subject of Matt's birthday party, take a gander at the snack and appetizer buffet he assembled. This is some serious snack curation. Well done, birthday boy. Well done.


p.s. Does anyone else have 7 or more friends named Matt?

Hello, Gorgeous.

I wish you lived in my neighborhood. Carroll Gardens is too far to travel, and my love burns too passionately for patience.

p.s. The lady was nice, but I'm talking to the beverage.

Poetry Tuesday: How Green is My Banana?

Oh my my my, no green bananas
Ah! My heart is green, my legs and hands
Are under-ripe and thick with starch Oh
Smoothie like my tongue, it slides
So slides so. Vitamin and win!
I'm E! I'm me! I'm multi me!
T(w)o calicum-um-um it's time.
It's breakfast time. It's newly mine.
It's me. I'm morning fruity me,
Banana green and free.

Further Adventures in Snack Curation

[It's Poetry Tuesday, and I owe you one, but I'm so far behind in my blogging that I hope you'll forgive a couple of non-poetic posts today.]

A few weeks ago, the time came for me to curate (they say "host") the snacks during "Coffee Hour" (actually about 20 minutes) after church. I was instructed to bring enough light snacks for 40 people, milk, and juice. Cookies were suggested as the snack in the instructing email, but since I still had hundreds in the freezer from my holiday cookie party, I would have taken cookies as my offering even if they hadn't been given as the example.

The congregants in attendance ate over 160 cookies in about 15 minutes flat. I was glad I'd baked an extra batch of Mrs Fields with walnuts that morning. Sugar, peppermint snap, Nutella cranberry, and coconut Joe Frogger cookies rounded out my selection.

One of my favorite things about serving a variety of cookies to a large group of people is that everyone can have his or her own favorite. Each kind of cookie is "the best" to at least one person -- and usually to several. I think this is how attraction works in our non-cookie-oriented romances, too. Human hearts and attraction meters vary widely and wildly. No matter what you look or taste like, there's someone out there who is really into that.



P.S. Though I was the host and responsible for the treats that day, I appreciated the generosity of an unnamed churchgoer who dropped off two Trader Joe's tarts [one chocolate almond (my favorite and pictured above), one lemon] to bulk up the buffet.