how to eat like a bird

how to eat like an albatross

Even on 12,000 calories a day, Michael Phelps is glad the swimming is over so he can eat whatever he wants. Apparently he’s been hankering for a juicy cheeseburger instead of a pizza and pound of pasta every night.

Here’s what 12,000 calories look like (under Features): cheerfully repellent if you’re not a morning person (a five-egg omelet, three fried-egg sandwiches, grits, French toast, three chocolate-chip pancakes just for breakfast). A local newscaster noted for comparison’s sake what the U.S. female gymnasts eat. It was very depressing, resembling as it did any sensible diet touted in any women’s magazine. Five small meals interspersed throughout the day with highlights being a piece of chicken and snacks of vegetables (and probably eight almonds).

And some Olympians (like swimmer Ryan Lochte) feast on MickeyD’s. Who knew? I thought they only endorsed the stuff. Six-foot-five Jamaican sprinter Usain Bolt won the 100-meter dash on a stomach full of chicken nuggets, with one shoe untied. When I eat McDonald’s, I have to lie down for a bit. And the rare times I’m on a treadmill and my shoestrings come undone, I take it as a sign from God that my workout is over (safety first). 

a soft-boiled egg with pine nut sauce

For a long time, my breakfast of choice was a nice, cold can of very crisp Coke. I've altered that a bit with choices ranging from fizzy Kombucha to eight cups of mellow green tea to iced coffee spiked with sugar and milk. But the methodology has remained the same, in that I stick to beverages that can double as a drug. I am not interested in solids before noon and it's hard to fit in breakfast when I wake up 20 minutes before needing to be somewhere. Like, say, it is the weekend and I am to meet a friend at 4pm, I will wake up at 3:40.

But I am trying to change that as apparently, eating breakfast is the most important thing you can do, next to exercising, to maintain a healthy weight. And apparently all the CEOs in New York are up and about early--by 6am, having already done with their run around the reservoir. I think I read this in 1999, so you see how I am on top of things.

I tried to make this dish for two weeks. I was attracted to its simplicity in terms of both time and ingredients list, and while something with anchovy paste might be a turn-off for breakfast, I think a bit of fish paste, nuts and eggs are a fine way to begin the day--all that protein! And many Asian cultures have a savory breakfast with a bit of fish and rice to start the day, or even just some miso soup.

But this recipe, even with just five ingredients, takes a little bit of planning, as you have to soak the pine nuts the night before, and then you have to pull out your spice grinder (or mini-food processor or mortar and pestle or bag and hammer) to grind the nuts. A soft-boiled egg only takes three to four minutes, but the water has to come to a boil--it was all too much for me to take in the morning. After two weeks and half a cup of wasted pine nuts, I gave up on this for breakfast and made it for the simplest of suppers.

You shouldn't make this if you detest anchovies or never use pine nuts (not worth the cost for a simple dish meant to be made impromptu with staple items). Do make it if you love salty-pungent dishes like a good bagna cauda or a midnight repast of eggs. Over asparagus or with a side of toast, this would be a complete meal. The pine nut sauce (or paste, as it turned out) lasts all week and I had plenty leftover, so afterwards a quick breakfast is actually possible.

I think the recipe as posted here on the Splendid Table web site is off. I cut it in half, but even 2 tablespoons of anchovy paste seem way too much, as that would be seemingly half a tube. And the amount of honey seems miniscule. So I just adapted it to taste, and you should, too. This wimpy base should be a safe starting point. 

Adapted from Around the Roman Table: Food and Feasting in Ancient Rome by Patrick Faas

Soft-boiled eggs with pine nut sauce

• up to 4 eggs
• half a cup of pine nuts
• 1 teaspoon anchovy paste or garum
• 2 tablespoons of honey
• black pepper to taste

Soak the pine nuts in water overnight or for a few hours. Grind them and mix with the honey, anchovy paste or garum, and black pepper. Heat in a double-boiler (or bowl over pot of boiling water). Meanwhile, soft boil the eggs. (Place eggs in a pot of cold water and cook for 4 minutes after the water has come to a boil.) Immerse eggs in cold water before peeling them. Serve with the sauce.   

can an Excel chart = a raison d'être?

Perhaps not. Especially when said Excel chart merely answers that quotidian question "What did you eat today?" But it can provide structure if one is in need of such a thing, and I is. (Sorry, I've been watching Tina Fey on 30 Rock**).

I like eating with rules, it turns out. It's easier to eat healthy when I'm set on shunning certain items. It becomes a black and white world where I don't even think of anything containing dairy, wheat, meat, or sugar as an option and, for me, that's liberating. More liberating than choosing from an array of things with no guidelines whatsoever except what I want. How conflicting. Why wouldn't I want baked cheese? To feel lithe and not lethargic? I can do that tomorrow. Free choice is simply a burden I cannot shoulder right now. 

Hence, the Excel chart, which I started this Friday. I'm allowing myself two allowances a week of the aforementioned dairy, wheat, meat, and sugar, so I better make it count. I love all sorts of food too much to give up on one category altogether, but this way I won't fritter away valued dairy and sugar slots on Oreo cookies dunked in milk, unless I really want them. Nothing keeps me in check like a multi-colored font system.

And in the meantime, I hope to build up a repertoire of dishes emphasizing vegetables, fruits, and healthy grains that are worth repeating for sheer taste value. Anthony Bourdain says vegetarians have no palates. And he's right in a way. Once you start cooking for yourself a lot and eating mostly simply prepared vegetables and natural foods, restaurant food can taste salty and maybe too unctuous and rich. But, perhaps that's the better palate--to be more sensitive. To have a raisin taste super sweet.

**A show obsessed with food, by the way. To wit: main character Liz decides not to break up with her boyfriend after he brings her a meatball sub; Jenna gains a significant amount of weight starring in the Broadway adaptation of Mystic Pizza; and Alec Baldwin's Jack, post-heart attack, makes people eat red meat so he can watch.

how to calm a stomach ache post dairy

This is where arrogance and laziness gets you: doubled over in a dull sort of pain from meddlesome stomach cramps, most likely caused by the evil that is dairy. I got cocky. After my bout with eating fruits and vegetables as the mainstay of my diet, I gave myself carte blanche to eat what I wanted. Carefully at first, in small portions, but not so selectively. While I stayed away from processed foods, I basically reintroduced dairy, wheat, meat, and sugar into my diet all at the same time.

And to little ill effect. My stomach was not as flat but, save for a pound or two, I held off from gaining back all the weight lost (okay, I'm only talking about 5 pounds here). I once again had to blow my nose in the morning, but not as frequently as before. I didn't feel quite as spry, but I did have the memory of three ample slices of Di Fara's pizza, garnished with a variety of cheeses, olive oil, and extra basil which, short of an appendectomy, is worth a number of discomforts including the 90-minute wait. (Go with friends you have not seen for a long time so you have plenty to catch up on.)

But I had no gastro-discomfort, which confirmed my longstanding impression that my stomach is made of iron. Then one lovely day, with nothing to do especially but to catch up on TV and wonder how to prep the artichokes looking feebler by the minute in the fridge, I decided to have some potato chips and dip instead. I know how to fix that in a jiffy. Obtain sour cream, pour in Lipton onion soup mix, chill. Take chip out of bag, dip. Repeat numerous times until there are no chips left. I didn't go out of my way for the organic sour cream, but it still tasted pretty good.

I don't know at what point exactly my stomach started to hurt--maybe after the Oreos and milk, although I still feel those were relatively benign--but I can tell you that it was not worth it. And it lasted the whole day. I've never had that kind of stomach ache before. Maybe because I hadn't had dairy in so long and a cup (and a half) of sour cream and a glass of milk was overdoing it? Di Fara's doesn't count because they use aged cheese, in part, which doesn't contain lactose. Perhaps I'm lactose-intolerant like 90% of all Asians? Or maybe it was the processed nature of the chips.

In any case, looking back on it, I don't mind so much as your body probably should have a revulsion to bad food with no nutritional value. Maybe mine never did before because it was inoculated in some way because it was so accustomed to it. Anyway, here is what I found online about what to in the case of a tummy ache. Whenever I have a medical problem, imagined (West Nile, Anthrax, bedbug infestation) or otherwise, I turn to Google first.

You can take an antacid like Tums or whatever over-the-counter medication they produce in droves for these things. Or you can have some peppermint tea and lie down in a fetal position--and this is very important--on your left side. See, for hours, I had been lying down in a fetal position--as I am prone to do when faced with many a dilemma--on my right side. But then I found this nugget of information, turned around, and felt a good deal better. Not completely better, but it did make a difference. Then I slept it off.

goodbye liquid fast, hello Korean Thanksgiving

I spent the long weekend of my liquid fast concocting disgusting permutations of arugula, flaxseed oil, spirulina, cranberry, and pear smoothies (I was feeling perverse--the murkier, the better). I hid out from society and flitted about in white like some haunted figure living on an ashram--only from bed to blender and back again. But the closest I got to spiritual comeuppance was delving into my Molto Mario cookbook and fixating on the details of a baked pasta dish traditionally served over Easter. It involves Italian ham cooked until the meat falls apart and layers upon layers of pasta, cheese, and bechamel.

But the fast was not as futile as I feared. I felt and looked terrible on Saturday, the 10th day of my entire "detox" regimen, which is coincidentally or not how long Dr. Oz (of Oprah appearances) says it takes the liver to process toxins. So, hopefully I released some toxins in the process. And while I would not recommend a liquid fast unless you can be sure of keeping up your calorie intake to maintain your metabolism, I felt it served my purposes.

For I not only looked through cookbooks at pasta dishes I could not have, I also looked longingly at glossy vegetables and earmarked recipes I never would have noticed before--chicory soup with egg and Roman-style artichokes dripping in lemon juice and extra virgin olive oil. The first week of a restricted diet recalibrated my weight, my tastebuds, and my idea of portion size required for satiety. And the last three days recalibrated my standards for what I deem to be satisfying food, food worthy of being sought after (solids). Spinach with caramelized onions and black-eyed peas looked like food porn, and I hankered for the lentils from a few days ago.

Who knew that the Korean Thanksgiving day of Chuseok would follow Yom Kippur this year? I finished off 11 days of "detox" with a little rice, gim (toasted, salted sheets of seaweed), some radish soup, kimchi, a thumb-size portion of braised short rib, and three pieces of Korean pancake or fried pajun--one with meat, one with squash, and one with mung bean. It may not sound like much, but I probably overdid it. There seemed a plethora of items that overlapped in categories denied to me, which I didn't pause to think about before diving in. You would think everything would taste heavenly at that point, especially the piece of short rib, but I actually found the plain rice wrapped in toasted seaweed to be the most satisfying, the more heartening piece of food and, in hindsight, it was all I needed.

and on the seventh day...

When I started my "detox" plan, consisting of a preparatory week of a restrictive diet and four days of a juice fast, I thought for sure the juice days would be easier. It seemed far more clearcut--I wouldn't constantly have to think about what I could or could not eat because I wouldn't be eating. It appealed to my lazy side because I wouldn't have to cook (nor chew). I imagined myself happily accepting a wan existence, lounging in bed with one of those flexible straws hanging from my mouth at all times, drinking cranberry juice laced with ground flax seeds, arugula and papaya smoothies, and whatever other gross concoctions I could come up with.

But now my prep week is over, and has been over by a day, and I'm scared to start the next stage. And that's because it's been going so well. All the hunger I anticipated, the withdrawal symptoms from depriving myself of caffeine, sugar, and wheat (as well as meat and dairy)--the pounding headaches--never took place. Maybe because I had already stopped treating Coke as if it were an IV drip necessary for daily function, maybe because I was stuffing myself with fruit which contains natural sugars, but it was all a relative breeze, a walk in the park, far removed from my memories of many years ago when I was on the South Beach diet and made my friend uncomfortable with the way I was looking at her panini.

Yes, the first two days I felt a little tired and slept more, mostly because I was living on green tea, gazpacho, and Concord grapes. I wasn't getting enough calories (once again, being lazy). But then, the weather turned and in my rediscovery of lentils, I realized I could have comfort food on this diet. It buoyed me and beyond one grumpy night of an overexpensive, labor-intensive fruit salad when all I wanted was good pizza or maybe a lobster roll, I haven't had many overwhelming cravings. I tried not to resort to the typical diet visual of someone chomping on celery sticks for days on end. I had vegetable curry, lovely sashimi (fish doesn't count as meat, does it?), and a rich, creamy hummus from The Hummus Place.

All week, I've felt much better than I normally do. Never hungry, but never full to the point of excess. My skin seems a little brighter and my stomach flatter--it's soft like veal, but no matter. I didn't weigh myself at the start of the week because I wanted to make it more about health than weight, but I know what I usually weigh, and it looks like I lost five pounds. I fit into jeans that have been too tight for two years.

But what I'm most pleased with is the clarity of my head. Not in smarts--I'm sure I'm dumber--but in terms of congestion. I didn't realize how full of mucus I was. I usually have to blow my nose a few times when I wake up and before I go to sleep, and I sneeze quite a lot. But this week I've felt exceptionally clear. I can breathe. And I think because of this in part and because of my new found restraint, things taste better. A lot better.

Which is why I'm afraid to go on the more extreme juice fast. I worry that I will come out of it with an insatiable need for a lasagna with bechamel sauce. When right now, if I could have anything I wanted tomorrow, I would want either the hummus, with a side of falafel this time (the falafel is delicious there--vibrant and green inside, with nary a trace of grease) or the sashimi again. And it would satisfy. Normally if I were ordering sashimi rather than sushi, I would order the Deluxe portion plus an order of gyoza to ensure I had enough. But this week I had a Regular portion with a side salad, and got full before I finished.

I had a lot to do today, so didn't think it would be a good time to feel weak on a juice fast. But I'll give it a go over the weekend and try it for at least two days and we'll see how it goes.

vicarious feeding

Difara's Pizzeria from Chris on Vimeo.

I saw this ode to Di Fara's pizza posted on Slice and have watched it three times now, which is not as many times as I watched that You Tube clip of a baby panda sneezing, but this is longer and much more satisfying--especially for a girl off wheat and dairy for a couple of weeks.

You may think the stills alone would drive me delirious with longing and to curse the very day I thought of detox but, in fact, this video calms and lulls me into a positively beatific mood. Something about the timelessness of the atmosphere, how it's shot--the music and customers, Dom's craft, makes me trust that it will all be there long after my bout with wanting to be healthy. All in due time.

Disclosure: If I am to speak with frankness, I suggest people in the near vicinity get over there now because the man is not getting any younger. (Take the Q train to Ave. J in Brooklyn; they are at 1424 Ave. J.) Save some slices to take home, and eat at midnight.

the rules

At sunset I started my detox regimen, which begins with a week of no's--no alcohol, no coffee, no sugar, no dairy, no meat, no wheat. But a resounding yes to flaxseed, flaxseed oil, milk thistle, and most of all, fruits and vegetables. Fruit contains natural sugars, but I'm okay with that.

This week will be followed by a simpler four-day juice fast. And after that, I hope to maintain a relatively "clean" diet: no processed foods, a preponderance of organic vegetables and fruit, a limited amount of organic animal products, and whole wheat in place of refined flour, with the occasional indulgence like the expense-account steakhouse dinner I already denied myself tonight, and which I hear was AMAZING.

But all in all, I'm feeling more chipper than rueful. I do love a new project. We'll see how I feel on Day 4.

goodbye Chicken in a Biskit!

                                       

What's trashier than a cracker that bills itself a "biskit," the main selling point of which is that it tastes like a chicken bouillon cube and has a mascot devoted to NASCAR? Well, a lot of things, actually. Cheese from a can, for one. (I at least ate these with real English farmhouse Cheddar, people!)

This box I had to toss because the crackers tasted like cardboard. I usually eat these "chicken biskits" (why not go all the way and call it "chiken in a biskit"? --it's not like any real chicken is involved) only when I'm at my parents' house in Virginia, partly out of nostalgia and partly because I spot them at Target, where everything seems so spanking new and cheap and American. There the turnover for these babies is so quick that the MSG in them really pops.

But here in my local supermarket in New York, it was one of three remaining boxes. It was covered with a thin film of dust and the expiration date looked to be October of this year. In non-perishable food years, that could mean this particular box had been sitting around for a year or two. But I was on a quest. After a conversation with some friends about trashy foods (Doritos has really diversified in the last ten years), I had decided I should have these sooner rather than later, as I didn't want to revert to bad form after my upcoming detox fast. Unfortunately they turned out to be leaden and kind of stale. Not at all the happy, savory chicken-powder conveyors of my youth.   

Oh, and they were $3.89. For the same four dollars, I could have gotten two pounds of farmers' market tomatoes, ripe and bursting, ready to be made into a lush gazpacho or this. Instead I find myself eating things not because I genuinely want them at the moment, but because I project I'll want them later once I can't have them. I even made a small ham cooked in Coke, but it turned out dry because I boiled it too long in my overzealousness to really saturate the thing in Coke flavor. All this rather defeats the whole purpose of a fast--filling yourself up with junk first, that is.

There was going to be a banana pudding run to Sugar Sweet Sunshine that I felt I must fit in and an arepas dash to Caracas Arepa Bar, but I will have all those things later, in moderation. Maybe not a day or two or even a week after my fast, but I know I will have them again. I needn't worry about trying to pack it all in at the eleventh hour. And, as for the Chicken in a Biskit, I trash them now, but perhaps I'll revisit that food group next time I'm in Virginia. . . although I do suspect the mystique is over.

a time to fast

Of all the articles in the food issue of The New Yorker, I am most captivated with the one about not eating. While Judith Thurman's time at the holistic fasting spa We Care is limited to three days and one colonic, the article goes beyond her personal experience and reminds us that not all fasting is about fad dieting embarked upon with foolish haste. Rather, human beings have fasted since biblical times (when everyone was skinny) and almost all major religions subscribe to a period of abstention associated with a time for introspection, atonement, and renewal.

Also, after a colonic a man once found a marble he had swallowed when he was five years old. Who knows the degree of crap inside us all?

I don't have thousands of dollars to live out my Magic Mountain fantasy. (The spa is a frequent stop for celebrities on the way to red carpet events, but, moreover, serves as a sanatorium in the desert for wealthy clients in need of detox who can stay for a month at a time). But I am in need of a fast. I'm not yet completely over my summer cold--after an unexpected chilly night, I can feel my throat close up and, more disastrously, suspect my taste buds are being muffled by layers of phlegm. I'm not quite as bad as David Sedaris, who admits in the same issue of The New Yorker that taste-wise he cannot tell the difference between an apricot and a peach. But I'm not enjoying my meals so much.

A friend and I dined at Perilla over the weekend. And while the famed spicy duck meatballs were even better than expected (delectably tender and juicy with a flavorful kick to them), I found the rest of the meal just okay. Very well done but a little boring. My friend loved her mussels in, I think, a green curry coconut sauce, but we both found her wolfish bland. Light and summery but not that flavorful. My skate with a pastrami and cabbage slaw was much better but I didn't clean my plate (the entree portions are pretty big) and don't feel the need to have it again. She really liked the slaw and while I thought pastrami was an inspired choice (usually people use bacon with skate), I would have preferred the cabbage braised to have a silky and sweet component against the crispy skate wing, and wished the whole thing which was tied together with a mustard sauce to be more mustardy. --But, see, maybe my palate is muffled or jaded. I am sure after a few days of fasting, everything will taste ambrosial.

As an aside, we did see the chef and winner of the first season of Top Chef, Harold Dieterle, slouched in a banquette talking to some people. He's a favorite for both of us and when you see someone you've seen on film or TV, you always note how different they seem in real life--she's a giant! or she's so petite! But Harold looks just the same. Maybe because he appeared in a reality show. The double chin he sometimes has is gone, but the grimace, the shrug is all the same, so that was rather endearing to see.

I'll outline the details of my fast later. --I'll be supplementing with some liquids and a lot of gazpacho so it won't be like I'm depriving myself of all sustenance. And I'm going to base the dates loosely to coincide with the upcoming Jewish holidays of Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish new year) and Yom Kippur (a day of atonement ten days after the new year.) I hope this is not heresy as I am not Jewish but thought it would make me feel better if a lot of other people were thinking introspectively, and well, repentantly, about their lives at or around the same time (as well as not eating on Yom Kippur). And after all, I am Korean and attended Catholic school. I read Ian McEwan. If I'm not already well versed with the ins and outs of atonement, I only have myself to blame.

But more on that later. First, there are some dinner plans to be met, produce to take advantage of before summer's end, and a small ham to be cooked in Coca-cola.

how I weaned myself off Coke

It actually took therapy. When I was little, I used to come home from school and fix myself a glass of Coke. I'd pour a newly opened Coke into a short, wide tumbler, over ice that cracked under the quiet fizz of carbonation. I'd swish the ice cubes around and sip it like it was Scotch, as I settled down with my sister to catch the last half of our favorite soap, Santa Barbara.

I didn't get into all this with my therapist, Bob. I only told him that I felt tired almost all the time. Coke only came up as I waved around a half-empty bottle, claiming it was the source of any personality I may have. It was our first meeting, and it was 9am. Or rather, 9:10, as I had asked my cab driver to pull over by a deli so I could run in for a Coke, having fervently imagined during the ride all the horrors of an hour-long meeting in the morning with no caffeine whatsoever, much less a meeting where I may have to answer prodding questions, and look into myself. What would I do with my hands?

Bob asked me if I drank Coke a lot. I said I would die without it. He calmly suggested I not drink caffeine after 5pm, and keep a sleeping log for a couple of weeks. So, I did. And it wasn't very hard because I could still have it in the morning when I needed it most, and at 4:59 to carry me through the rest of the day. I had heard of moderation before but, for me, it had never held the dramatic import of, say, cutting soda, sugar, dairy, and refined carbs from one's diet all in the same week. Of course, that kind of plan only makes you want those things more. I knew from experience Coke would only taste better after a couple days of withdrawal, filled with lethargy and headaches. I would get through the headaches only to reward myself with a cold, bubbly Coke.

As it turns out, I'm not an insomniac. Without an after-dinner coffee or a Coke to accompany a midnight snack, it started becoming easier and easier to fall asleep before 3am. Who knew? (In my defense, in college I used to fall asleep immediately after drinking three cans of Coke in preparation for a long night of studying, so it didn't occur to me what an effect it was having on my sleep habits.)

By the time I saw Bob again in two weeks, I was actually feeling sleepy before midnight, and falling asleep within 20 minutes of going to bed. I woke up naturally in the morning, rather than to a beleaguered alarm set perpetually on snooze. And no longer found it necessary to have a Coke first thing in the morning to prop open my eyelids. I still had one, but it was more out of habit than absolute necessity. Feeling just the tiniest bit healthier, I started drinking more tea, especially in the afternoon for a pick-me-up, realizing I liked honey Darjeeling and green teas with nothing added, rather then my usual Earl Grey with whole milk, or sometimes half and half, and three teaspoons of sugar, followed later by a soda. When I came in from the heat, I made sure I had ice-cold water on hand to quench my thirst before reaching for a Coke. I'd still reach for one--but it's not the same refreshing experience when you're already full from water. I drank much less.

My biggest substitution success, though, came from a Kombucha tea drink, which, like Coke, comes cold, fizzy, and bottled. Like Coke, I could drink it with a straw. Unlike Coke, it is only 30-50 calories a serving and supposedly good for you. I won't go into any health benefits here, as I don't think anything's been scientifically proven, but it's a cultured tea drink that supposedly helps with digestion and metabolism. People with liver problems shouldn't drink this. There's residual caffeine, comparable to decaf coffee, and a low amount of sugar (about 2 grams, which is half a teaspoon, in the brand that I drink, and none of it is in the form of high fructose corn syrup).

It also gives me a slight buzz, which I don't think I'm imagining because there's a trace amount of alcohol in there from the fermentation process. But instead of making me feel drowsy soon after, like any other kind of alcohol, it simply goes away after having done it's part (making me feel awake and spry). It's sour, tart taste is one to be acquired. But I love vinegar and anything acidic, so took to this right away. My favorite flavors are Gingerade and Passionfruit. If you're trying it for the first time, I'd suggest trying one like the Passionfruit, which contains some fruit juice. Whole Foods actually has a good price for this, at $3.19 a bottle. It's pricey, but the recommendation is to drink only half a bottle a day initially, the cost of which is equivalent to what I was spending on Coke anyway. You can make it yourself at very little cost. But I'm afraid I won't be able to tell bad spores from good spores.

I've been drinking it for a while, but I still try to keep it down to half a bottle a day or one every other day, both for cost reasons and because I don't think too much of anything can be a good thing. It just helps me wake up. And now when I do drink Coke sometimes, it doesn't taste sublime like the other times I've stayed away. It tastes awfully sweet. And syrupy. And flat. (Kombucha keeps its natural fizz for a longer period of time.)

Which is not to say I've stopped drinking Coke altogether. There are certain foods that call for it. (Greasy, fried, fatty foods.) But I don't need to buy it in bulk anymore. I kind of still feel anxious if there isn't one in the fridge, but I won't need to have the one I do keep in the fridge for a while. I don't feel compelled to drink it simply because it's there.

This has been a long post, so let us now sum up in bullet points for those of you with attention deficit and for those of you who, like me, dearly love a bullet point (not to mention a dry-erase board):

• Do not ban Coke and fixate on it as an evil object of addiction. Rather, place it in the bigger picture--in my case, the evil that is caffeine after 5pm, depriving me of sweet, sweet sleep. (You need some clear purpose in mind, so it's not just an arbitrary choice and so you can look for results. In this case, being able to sleep and wake up early.)
• Be a pragmatist, not an ideologue. That is, be George Bush, Sr. not Dick Cheney. Sure, caffeine and high fructose corn syrup can be couched in evil terms, but be realistic. Work with it. Set limits, such as the 5pm time limit. Sometimes I go past this now, but go back to it when I feel like I'm having one too many Cokes (usually during a period when I am stressed).
• Practice substitution. Find a healthy alternative. God-willing, one that gives you a buzz. FIXATE on it and become equally addicted to that.