Momma Mia, thatsa delicioso!!
For some reason, Turks, as a rule, tend to skip the tomato sauce from their pizzas- (even Dominos, for pity's sake) so I decided to make my own deep dish pizza for this evening.
If you have not tried to make your own pizza before, let me assure you it is a quite an easy thing. Forget all that Lucy business with the dough tossing and twirling. My cats would fling themselves off the balcony if I should ever attempt it.
In last week's post, I told you about finding in the local farmer's market the mysterious purple carrot, as homely a vegetable you will encounter outside your nightmares. This week I want to share with you another find. The Jerusalem artichoke.
The name is famously odd since it does not come from the Middle East at all and has no connection to artichokes. (I will bypass the theories about the origins of its name if you don't mind. You can find other sites for that if you're that curious.) The Jerusalem artichoke resembles a knobby white potato and originally came from North America. Therefore the species grown in Turkey are not- in any way- native. Still, the price is very reasonable and their slightly nutty, fresh taste is worth exploring.
Interestingly, Edgar Cayce, a famous psychic healer, claimed that Jerusalem artichokes were useful in keeping Type II diabetes in check. Years later, scientists discovered that this tuberous vegetable contained a form of insulin, inulin which "has a minimal impact on blood sugar, and—unlike fructose—is not insulemic and does not raise triglycerides, making it generally considered suitable for diabetics and potentially helpful in managing blood sugar-related illnesses," according to Wikipedia. "Because normal digestion does not break inulin down into monosaccharides, it does not elevate blood sugar levels and may therefore be helpful in the management of diabetes. " http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inulin Score one for Edgar.
Additionally, they are immensely rich in potassium. They also contain Vitamin C and fiber. They are rich in iron and thiamine and they help the healthy bacteria in the intestinal tract to grow. http://chefinyou.com/2009/01/jerusalem-artichoke-sunchoke-101/ That's a good thing, by the way.
The vegetable has the texture of a Chinese water chestnut and tastes great raw in salads or cooked like a potato. Since 
Jerusalem artichokes are not so well-known, using them to make a soup or baked and tossed with bay leaves will surely impress your friends at your next shindig. Click on the photos for the recipes.
One delicate point to add here, this deceptively innocent looking vegetable is a creature which holds a musical secret. Other adventurers report it has a very real tendency to produce wind when eaten in large quantities. So, given that warning, turn up the volume and put the dog out and enjoy the Jerusalem artichoke.
I guess the main reason was that I got extremely tired of accidentally catching my own image in a mirror, or any very reflective surface, and seeing a fat man's body with my head attached. The shock and wince that followed were always momentary but increasingly more frequent. So, I decided, with my fatty heart in hand, to lose some weight.
To misquote Tolstoy, every thin person is the same but every fat person is fat in a different way. I carried almost all my extra load right in the belly. This, researchers now tell us, is the most dangerous kind of fat.
Previous studies have linked an apple-shaped physique to a greater propensity for diabetes, heart disease and stroke. Researchers suspect that belly fat cells are the worst because of their proximity to major organs. They ooze noxious chemicals, stoking inflammation, constricting blood vessels and triggering other processes that may also damage brain cells. "There is a lot of work out there that suggests that the fat wrapped around your inner organs is much more metabolically active than other types of fat right under the skin," Whitmer said. "It's pumping out toxic substances. It's very potent toxic fat."
So, apparently, not only am I surrounded in a layer of fat, but the fat is poisonous. Lucky apple-shaped me. In fact, my weight had been, for the last ten years or so, steadily accumulating, at first imperceptibly but now, where the actual increase from month to month is observable. And, let's face it, that's pretty scary. A slow motion body explosion!
For one thing, I don't exercise, and I mean, ever. I still associate exercise with Physical Education class and sweaty yard work. In the past, most of us used to walk a lot more. Now, if I walk down the street, I return home panting as if I had climbed Mt. Everest. With a fearful pounding sensation in my neck, I pretend to be some kind of martyr. How did I get to be so lazy? It is killing me and yet, given a choice of the stairs or an elevator, I would with a moment's reflection, wait an extra minute on Z floor to get to the first floor.
The other reason is food. Dear dear food. The only way I could possibly gain weight faster this last year would have been to cram handfuls of sugar in my mouth from noon to midnight. But then again, cola is perhaps the easiest way to do this.
While I was in the USA this autumn, I noticed two things. Food tastes better- better than it should- and there are so many more choices. Walking the aisles in a typical supermarket takes on a dream like quality when compared to the paltry selection in the average Turkish market. There are just too many irresistible choices. People are not made of stone, after all. You look at some new product and think, "What the hell is ...THAT?" and nearly the next second, "God, I wonder how that tastes? What the hell." And before you know it, you find yourself stowing it in the fridge or on your pantry shelf. You simply cannot live long enough to sample every intriguing morsel and, by the very nature of obesity and the ill health it brings, you are positively guaranteed to be robbed of time for that pleasure.
Besides, I came from a family whose motto was "Self-denial? What's the point?" I heard my mother say probably a hundred times, "Food makes me happy. What's the point of living a long time if you are miserable all the time?" Fair enough. However, as I discovered when I quit smoking, there is a flaw in this idea. It is problem with all addictions. the law of diminishing returns. Addictions, like a first date with a cheerleader, promise a lot but withhold complete satisfaction. The more often you attempt to reach nirvana, the less likely you will be able to attain it. The best you can expect from an addiction is a repeat performance as good as you remembered.
But an addiction to food is a different sort of beast altogether. After all, one doesn't need a daily allowance for alcohol or cigarettes or heroin or crack, but a food is a requirement. It forces us to monitor, to ration and to curtail, when necessary, our intake. And if you ignore this prohibition, you have only yourself to blame if you wake up one drizzly morning wearing a goose-down jacket of poisonous fat.
Okay, models are rumored to live on air and three olives a week, but unless you wish to become a cadaver on the runway, you need some kind of nutrition, you must masticate, and swallow and digest and finally poo.
So, it appears the only solution is to diet. I am trying the Atkins Diet because, if I have to deny myself the pleasures of sugar and every bit of starchy carbohydrates, ( fare thee well, baked potatoes, goodbye, white rice and adios, macaroni! I loved you all!) then meat and deep-fried whatever does offer some degree of greasy comfort. Wish me luck.
