Dessert Happens

Saturday night. New York City. True story.

I’m out to dinner with my husband while visiting New York City, at a restaurant highly praised by a foodie—friend I’ll call Lloyd. And Lloyd says “you must try the desserts—they’re amazing”, or something to that effect. It’s a 45-minute wait for a seat at the bar (a beautiful, relaxed setting, I’ll add). We share a couple of wine flights—those 3 oz samples, and order our meal.

That part was easy. The arctic char appetizer was divine, surpassed by the two entrees we decided in advance to share. (Basically, I have a hard time deciding and don’t want to limit my options, so I petition my husband that we should share and he generally obliges as he did Saturday. Yes, marrying him was a good decision.) 

Skillfully prepared fish and a butternut squash lasagna—the labels do no justice to their taste. Totally wow, and I don’t use superlatives for food too readily. The bread was similarly fabulous—a whole-wheat sourdough seemingly right from the oven served with sweet butter. Of course I enjoyed a couple of slices as they  were put before me.

I was quite satisfied from this leisurely paced meal. A warm beverage would’ve capped it just fine. But Lloyd’s words hovered. I knew I needed to try dessert. What to do? We started with coffee, a spiced French Press, while the menus sat before us. Okay. Let me just inquire, I thought. So I engaged the bartender/waitperson. “Can you tell me about the lemon curd dessert with chocolate and hazelnut crumble (which sounds so weird I can’t even image getting it but I just need to know!)? And she did. “What would you suggest?” I prodded further. “This or the apple pie with ice cream?” (which sounded so conventional, I thought). She described them both in glowing terms, then added that the apple pie is the restaurant’s most popular. “Fine, then. We’ll take it. It’s decided.” (My husband, by the way, was somewhat indifferent to having dessert that night.)

Surely I could’ve passed on dessert. But guess what followed? Fresh baked, flaky apple pie with homemade vanilla bean ice cream, of course.

 AND the lemon curd dessert—gratis, I’ll add! This lovely waitperson felt we really needed to try both—perhaps she felt my decision-making pain when I announced my dessert selection.

Now what would you do?

1.    Thank her profusely, then return the second dessert?
2.    Take a couple of bites, then leave the rest because you had enough?
3.    Eat both desserts—sharing them of course—even though it is completely unnecessary?

So after we completed devoured the two desserts, which were as delectable as our foodie-friend promised, what to do? We didn’t need the extra calories (and thankfully calorie counts have no place on these non-chain restaurant menus!)

Breathe. The meal was over and we thoroughly enjoyed it. This was hardly the best match of intake and need. Rather, fullness had been overridden by desire, by opportunistic eating (when would I get to try their desserts again?), and the like.

What’s the worst-case scenario? Okay, we took in more than we needed that meal. So what? This is more the exception than the rule—our eating is generally quite fitting for our need. Compensation would lead to consequences—restriction results in excess hunger and deprivation and potentially rebound overeating, or at a minimum, preoccupation with eating.

Besides, we thoroughly enjoyed the two desserts, and the whole dining experience. No regrets.

Would I do anything differently in the future? Perhaps. I just might make a point of going there more often, so it doesn’t feel like a now-or never experience. Gramercy Tavern is not going away anytime soon. I just need to remember that.

Supersized Disaster

Yes, that's a 44 oz individual serving of soda!

I never recommend soda to my patients or my family members. And I cringe when I walk into fast food restaurants (only to use the bathroom, of course) or a movie theater and see single serving cups in the range of 32-44 ounces. It’s obscene. That volume of sugar devoid of other nutrients, consumed at a single sitting is crazy. Our society has a distorted sense of what normal portions are—not just for beverages, but for food as well. The only place I’ve been able to find a true juice glass, a 4 or 6-ounce size, has been at antique stores. Really. So I support NYC’s Mayor Bloomberg’s recent ban on the sale of supersized sodas, right?

Not at all. While the mayor is desperately trying to change a growing trend of overconsumption and obesity, his new policy restricting the sale of sodas larger than 16 oz is absurd on so many levels.

While I take my freedom for granted, having never lived anywhere that restricted my personal choices, including what I eat, the thought of a law limiting the size of my portions feels, well, un-American. Mark my word; if they try to restrict my purchase of cupcakes after 8 PM, for instance, I’ll start hoarding them at 7. I mean it.

Who decides what you're allowed to eat and how much?

It’s quite a slippery slope. Who decides that Sprite is out, but grape juice is fine? Or that 24 oz smoothies are ok, but soda is not?  Maybe they should halt the sale of those cardiac-inducing hot dogs sold on food carts throughout NY, instead? Sure, there’s nutritional value in the smoothy, but if the driving force behind this policy is obesity and health—why would 24 or more caloric ounces of anything accompanying a meal be appropriate?

Next, will NYC next set limits on who can buy these large caloric beverages? Will we need to weigh-in at the food carts on 5^th Avenue—high BMI? You get the under 16 oz regular soda or the diet one; low BMI? You may choose the supersized drinks—but ONLY those drinks with calories—no diet beverages for you. 

Should we perhaps ban the sale of large portions of diet beverages, given that they displace the calories and nutrients desperately needed by those with eating disorders and those simply underweight?

And what about cost? Can we not buy a bottle of soda at the deli to share with others, resulting in a smaller portion and less cost per person? Bloomberg’s ruling prohibits this.

The unforseen consequences

What message does it send if 16-ounce beverage portions—regular or diet—are considered the norm? Our caloric needs vary; for some, 16 oz of juice is absolutely appropriate. For others, it’s excessive for their need. But a law stating that 16 ounces is fine or distinguishing between soda and juice as healthy versus unhealthy creates a hierarchy people will believe is valid—when it’s not. If we are talking about weight management it's about calories, and a Coke is no different than a bottle of 100% juice. 

Should those with high blood pressure be forbidden
 this heavily salted popcorn?

I understand that simply educating the public to improve health is at best challenging. We are impacted by visual stimuli and sensory prompts to eat, as well as our perception--not just information about what and how much is healthy to consume. Prompted by the suggestion that you can size up for only 75 cents more (which I overheard at the movies yesterday), most of us will go for it. If you perceive that you haven’t eaten much you will continue eating, regardless of your fullness. And if you believe that 16 ounces is appropriate--because the Mayor believes it's fine for your health-- you may be more inclined to select the 16 oz size than something smaller.

If they’re going to set rules…

Perhaps there are better alternatives than Bloomberg’s to reduce our excessive intake—if or when it is unhealthy for the individual. How about a pricing policy removing the financial incentive to size up? If ordering the 32 oz soda vs the 16 oz adds $1.20 vs 20 cents, I suspect there’d be more thought before supersizing.

Yes, this is for real. And financially more sensible that the 32 oz
 which was more expensive per ounce!

Or what about a rule allowing individuals to bring their own snacks into a movie—maybe healthier popcorn from home? Or limiting movie-theater food to a specific eating area as opposed to in front of the screen? Can we not go 90 minutes without a feeding? Why are we encouraging distracted eating, when all evidence supports mindful eating helps us better regulate our intake and our weight?

Yes, something needs to be done to improve the health of our nation. But setting arbitrary boundaries on portions, about good beverages and bad, is hardly the answer. And the fallout from this perhaps well-intended policy may only result in more problems.


And I thought I lived in the liberal Northeast...