Is that strategy really working for me? No it’s not and stop judging me, Judgy McJudgerson!

Sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I am a just cranky.

Now that the holiday drinking/eating season is upon us, I am faced with a couple of choices.

I can either take a page from Lee Corso and say, ah, fuck it until January and then join millions of my fellow resolution-makers and resume the healthy-eating-exercise thingy come Jan. 2.

(Not New Year’s Day because that’s still a holiday.)

Or– and this is a big, capital letter OR– I could try to find a wee bit of balance by strategically planning my days of I-don’t-give-a-fuck-give-me-that-pecan-pie with days of a-cheeseburger-will-NOT-make-the-demons-stop-screaming-eat-a-salad-beeotch.

I am leaning toward the second choice. I can bring my lunch everyday — Healthy Choice has a new line of Top-Chef-inspired meals so that gives me new fodder for the Desktop Lunch Reviews — and I can plan simple meals on all the days that are not celebratory.

Then I can indulge in fabulous food and cocktails like I’m getting paid to do it on the days that really matter, like holidays and whenever my in-laws are in town– because I am not facing that shit sober.

If I play my cards right, I won’t lose any weight in the next six weeks, but I won’t gain any either. I would consider that success.

As far as exercise is concerned, I got a shot of cortisone in my knee last week and walking is now easier. So I could make sure I take a stroll at least once during each workday, which may help relieve the blah-blah-blah-STRESS! Who knows. It may keep me from crying in the fetal position under the desk in my office.

Hardly a revolutionary plan, but it’s all I got right now.

It rained all day here yesterday, which I gather is a rare thing in October in Southern California. Um, so yeah, all you Californians who laughed that our 5.6 earthquake in Virginia last month was barely enough shaking for a martini? We don’t call it a “weather event” when it rains. We just call it rain. We don’t like it. We avoid going for walks. But we keep calm and carry an umbrella.

Anyway, my vacation goal to plan each day around the equation of eating less plus moving more, which is supposed to equal less fat on my ass, was set back a wee bit because it was too wet to walk toward the ocean (more irony, I guess.) So I ended up walking on the fitness center treadmill. I really hate treadmills because it makes walking a chore.

I ended up trying to calculate how many miles I had to walk to earn a pineapple martini. I decided it was two miles. I am not going to show my work.

Anyway, my husband decided to skip dinner with his colleagues at the Cheesecake Factory (I know, right? WTF? We’re in California and they want to go to the shitty Cheesecake Factory?) and we went to a place down the street, Killer Shrimp.

And I had a “killer” margarita (it was sublime) and a bowl of lobster mac and cheese. If my calculations were correct, to walk that bowl of creamy sin away I owed that treadmill 26 more miles. Uphill. At marathon pace.

So I only ate about a third of it. It was maybe one of the finest tasting dishes I have ever had, but it was so rich, that a third was plenty.

I am not going to mention that Phil and I figured out if you combined lobster mac and cheese with french fries, you get the most wonderful thing on the planet. Patent pending.

Much better view than CNN on a treadmill television.

All has returned to normal here in L.A. this sunny morning, so I walked about two miles around Marina del Rey. Much more pleasant than a shitty treadmill.  When Phil is done with his meeting, we plan to hit the Getty Center and Old Town Pasadena before dinner with his family. Since I am uber self-conscious about eating in front of his relatives, I am hoping for a calorie deficit for the day.

Moving more. Eating less. Is this really me?

Marian del Rey

Vacation is synonymous with joy to me. I love being free of the stress of every day life and I love traveling. This week I am tagging along while my husband attends a conference in Los Angeles, because I am too selfish to let him get that close to the ocean without me.

Yesterday while he worked I strolled up and down Venice Beach, in and around it’s canal walks, and back to our hotel in Marina del Rey.

It was a warm day with a cool breeze and I took lots of photos. The path along the canals is gorgeous, with its variety of architecture styles and its multitude of flowers, bushes and succulents. It was a rush of saturated color, contrasting textures and intoxicating aromas from the blooms.

Canal walkway along Venice Beach.

I honestly can’t imagine being unhappy if this was my view every day, but I know that’s a crock of shit because even if you live in paradise, you have stress. Hell, it maybe even more stressful because the rent’s so damn high.

Still, it’s fun to imagine waking up to this beauty every day and I certainly hope the folks who live in these homes have allotted enough time to enjoy it.

Vacation is normally synonymous with lots of indulgent food, but I have really tried to make better choices this time. I am winning the battle of good verses evil when it comes to food (mostly) but probably just holding my own on booze.

Pineapple martinis have made me their bitch.

Most people will tell you to avoid buffets if you are trying to lose weight — I suppose because it’s like leading a hog to a trough and asking him to go easy on the good stuff.

I genrally agree with that (not the hog part, that’s just a metaphor) especially if I am feeling vulnerable, which a lot of time I am. But this week I’ve been feeling pretty good, and the breakfast buffet here at the hotel is reasonably priced and loaded with good choices. Also, the flip side to the buffet argument is that I can control my portions much easier if I am the one doling it on my plate.

I learned something this week: French toast can taste good a) from a buffet line and b) without butter or syrup or whip cream, just topped with fresh strawberries.

No. Really. It’s true. The way I look at it, it’s a minimum amount of carbs and fat (the slices were not at all greasy) and a wee bit of protein from the eggs but with a lot fewer calories since I only had one slice and left off all the other extra sugar and fat and subbed in antioxidant rich, unprocessed fruit.

Eggs with salsa, fresh fruit.

This morning I got a variety of melons and pineapple (hold the martini this time) and just a single spoonful of a huevos-ranchero-style scrambled eggs from the buffet. I was very satisfied, and got in a good stretch while patting myself on the back for my bacon restraint.

Yesterday while I was on my walkabout all over the shoreline, I chose the healthiest lunch I could from the menu of an adorable Mexican cafe: a soft chicken taco and a salad, with a minimum amount of cheese and lots of veggies. Sure, I had a Dos XX with it because I love beer at lunch while on vacation, but since I walked probably five miles yesterday and drank a gallon of water, I figured it was OK.

Last night I joined my husband and his accountant colleagues for dinner on the roof of our hotel. The food was OK — a small beef filet, a poached salmon filet, a pile of mushy mashed potatoes, two asparagus spears and two gangsta-tough baby carrots. I ate only half of my dinner (only a single bite of the potatoes) and only half of my dessert — a citrus flavored sponge cake with a cream filling and white chocolate shavings.

I may not be an accountant, but I know I saved half the calories by only eating half of the food. Math skillz, yo.

So yeah, it all comes down to choices. And I am trying, even while on vacation, to make better ones. I don’t really think I will lose weight on this vacation, but I at least hope to break even.

We are in Los Angeles, and California is known for its healthy food options, right? Sure. It also has every other not-so-healthy food option you could ever desire. The pineapple martinis here in the bar, for example. Deliciously wonderful empty calories.

Today I was determined to be good. And it started that way:

Veggie omelet, prepared without butter and I know that because the chef prepared it in front of me, and a big plate of fresh fruit.

Then we decided to be complete tourists and see all the typical LA sights: Hollywood, Beverly Hills and Rodeo Drive.

So we parked near just behind the El Capitan Theater on Hollywood Boulevard and headed over to the Kodak Theater, where the Oscars are held. While it is indeed a theater, it is also a big assed shopping mall. We wandered around and stopped at a gastro pub and had a couple of micro brews before we boarded one of those double-decker buses to take a tour of Hollywood.

When the bus dropped us back off at the Kodak, we went to Kijo’s, a sushi and shabo shabo restaurant. And so we had shabo shabo for the first time, which is a very healthy version of fondue. Fresh veggies, lean chicken, shrimp and Kobe beef, all steamed fresh at our table and served with ponzu dipping sauce.

The veggies, rice and udon noodles and tofu are dumped into these pots of boiling water, which we can season with green onion and garlic. The meat and shrimp are dipped into the steaming water for only a few seconds to cook it.

This was delicious, filling, and maybe the most low-cal way I can imagine to cook food. The portions on the veggies were much bigger than the meat and shrimp, so this was a very Weight-Watchers-friendly lunch.

But I do have a few weaknesses in my dietary life, and one of them is black raspberries. I love black raspberries more than any other fruit grown on this earth, and this sushi-shabu place made a dessert sushi with red and black raspberries. I could not say no.

That’s raspberries and a bit of cream cheese, rolled in a crepe wrapper and soy paper, drizzled with raspberry and dulce de leche sauces.

This was the best fruit dessert I have ever had in my life and my only regret is that we only ordered one and I shared this with Phil. I should have made him get his own.

When we got back to the hotel, Phil’s colleagues had started to arrive, and I needed a couple more pineapple martinis to deal with the hours of accounting talk. Even the Monday Night Football game didn’t help since my beloved Colts lost again. That almost prompted another martini. But I resisted.

So today I am dining on a meatless selection from Healthy Choice: Portabella Marsala Pasta.

There’s nothing in that description I do not like, so I had high hopes. I was not disappointed.

I know this photo makes it look like a big bowl of brown, but really, this was damn tasty.

This dish is very well seasoned — despite only having 500 mg of salt — with a strong peppery bite. The pasta features nine grains but it was tasty and not at all chewy like many multigrain pastas. The crimini mushrooms, my favorite fungi, were plentiful and had a rich, roasted flavor and the wine sauce was not skimpy or soupy.

And this dish does cheese right: Real fontina cheese, but just a wee bit of it on top.

This pasta plate has only 250 calories, 6 grams of fat and 11 grams of protein. Winner.

Yesterday, we got one.

Two ovens, the bigger one convection, five burners including a bridge burner perfect for grill pans.

Isn’t it gorgeous?

In kind of an ironic turn of events, the stove was delivered on my daughter’s birthday and we already had plans to go out to dinner. So, no cooking last night. I woke up this morning and made my grocery list so I could bring home all kinds of wonderful food to cook…and I have a terrible stomach ache. Can’t leave the house long enough to go shop for food, nothing sounds good anyway.

{{{SHAKES FIST AT THE CRUEL BITCH THAT IS FATE}}}

So I just scarfed down a couple of Pepto Bismol tablets and plan to hit the store as soon as they solve whatever is wrong in my gut.

I plan to make a dish tonight that will require using as many burners and ovens as possible: A deconstructed lasagna made with penne pasta, roasted veggies, a little seasoned meat and baked with Italian cheeses. Not only is this little macaroni bake da bomb, it will let me fire up the stove and at least one oven.

Then maybe I will bake some cookies or a cake in the convection oven JUST BECAUSE I CAN!

Bwhahahaha!

No matter. Pork tonight will be tasty and leftovers tomorrow will be even better.

So the husband fired up our charcoal grill, soaked some wood chips, and coated the previously rubbed meat with brown sugar.  He can never do anything with brown sugar and not sing the chorus from that Rolling Stones song, a quirky habit that I find endearing and cute but others may find geeky as hell.

The sugar, by the way, creates a delicious crust on the meat. In case you wondered.

Anyway, after an hour on the grill it’s time to mop the meat. Mopping helps to keep the outer part of the meat moist and adds another layer of flavor.  We made a balsamic/garlic-infused grapeseed oil dressing and added a few healthy dashes of Worchestershire sauce, chili powder and dried oregano. This will be brushed on the meat everytime we turn it.

How much of each, you ask again. Well, my detail-oriented reader, I have no real idea. We follow the basic rule of dressing: two parts oil to one part vinegar. Everything else was just tossed in to what appeared to be appropriate levels.

Recipe writing my not ever be my forte. I’m a dash-of-this kind of cook. Measuring shit is for baking, so I do it every single time when I’m working with pastry.

A piece of pig this big will likely take about three hours on indirect heat to cook properly.

Since there is only two of us tonight and there will be seven people here tomorrow, we will try not to eat it all tonight and save some of it to go with the boule that our friend @sparkleymegz will make for us tomorrow night.

This weekend, by the way, is a big old throwdown before we come to our dietary senses on Monday.

Promises, promises.

Tomorrow’s dinner will include a charcoal-grilled pork loin, fresh made boule, grilled asparagus and potatoes, and a seven-layer cookie and dark chocolate cupcakes with vanilla bean frosting.

We are going all out because @afloridapeach, who has been interning at the newspaper this summer, is leaving on Wednesday and this will, alas, be her final TBS dinner. We will miss her very much.

Today I made a dry rub for the pork loin, which includes:

• Smoked paprika
• Cumin
• Applewood smoked salt
• Smoked pepper
• Red pepper flakes
• Mustard powder

Now you may be asking, why are there no quantities posted here? What kind of recipe writer are you? Good questions. A little snarky, but fair.

I used equal parts, about three teaspoons, each of everything except the salt, which I used an extra teaspoon, to coat the 5 pound loin pictured here.  And that combo worked out to be the right amount for me.

You may ask, well why didn’t you write that orginially, you home cookin’  blogger bish?  Why are you wasting my valuable time?  Again, a good question, even if you are a wee bit testy today. Relax, have a glass of wine and let me ‘splain.

I come from the Julia Child school of individuality in flavor. To quote the fabulous Julia: “I like it the way I like it, you like it the way you like it.”

I like my meat strong on the smoky flavor, lighter on the heat. If you like less smoke and more kick, put in less cumin, use plain paprika, and ratchet up the red pepper flakes. Add more pepper, more mustard. Do what smells and tastes good to you. I

Also, you may need more or less rub depending on the size of your meat. Unlike sex, size does really matter in cooking.

But talent counts for the most in both.

The most important thing to remember is to RUB YOUR MEAT.  Your hand should look all sticky and grainy, much like this shaky photo, when you are done coating this huge hunk of piggy.  This noble animal should not have given his life in vain.  You want to season this meat to deeply enhance the flavors.

Tomorrow, the loin will cook low and slow on a charcoal grill and we will add a mopping liquid to keep it marinated and moist while it roasts.

More details tomorrow.

And in the meantime, chill out a little. Food is like sex, it should be fun and you know you are really having fun when it gets messy.

First, two  memoirs by women with interesting perspectives on weight loss that are also funny and poignant: Jen Lancaster’s “Such a Pretty Fat” and Wendy McClure’s “I am Not the New Me.”

Lancaster’s book is hilarious and if you have constantly procrastinated about starting on a weight loss regime — also known as a diet — you will be able to relate to her rants and raves.

I am a big fan of Lancaster and I get her abrasive sense of humor. Some may not. If you don’t, really this blog may not be the best place for you. Leave if you must, I understand.

McClure’s book is also about wanting to lose weight, trying to lose weight, and finally coming to terms with weight. She’s an outstanding writer and her memoir is funny and poignant.

The book I just finished is Frank Bruni’s “Born Round.” Bruni became the New York Times’ restaurant critic after a struggling with his weight his entire life. His memories of food and of the shame and isolation of being unhappy with his body reached into my soul.

I know all those feelings. I know all those happy associations with family and food, and all the pain associated with feelings of inadequacy and guilt. He writes about binge eating, purging, trying all sorts of tricks and fad diets.

Nothing worked for long.

He did finally find the secret to being able to eat great food and maintain a healthy weight. You’ll have to read the book to discover what it is.

Or keep reading this blog cause I think I may have a new path that’s not really all the new.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am at a blogging conference, so I need to go eat and drink now.