It's about quarter past nine on Thanksgiving evening. I'm circling the dining room table, a dessert in each hand. In my left, a plate overflowing with a sizeable helping of Heath Bar trifle. In my right, a white chocolate raspberry bar and the remnants of a maple sugar cookie. Mind you, at this point in the day, I'm not even hungry. I'm actually feeling uncomfortably full - nearly nauseous. Yet, here I am, going back for my second, third and fourth helping of dessert.
It's the same scenario that plays out every holiday - and I'm sure I'm not the only perpetrator. Each time my conscience tries to remind me that I have already eaten far more than my share of pumpkin pie, that relentless holiday mantra fills my head: "But it's Thanksgiving (Christmas, New Years, Valentine's Day)!" Before I know it, I'm filling my plate.
What drives me to go on day-long food binges during the holidays? Why can't I stop myself - as I do the rest of the year - from gluttonous overeating? Is my willpower simply defenseless against the sweet temptation of Aunt Helen's lemon squares? With the holiday-eating season just beginning, I think it's time I find out.
Food, as we all know, is so much more than mere nourishment. It keeps us alive - but it also keeps us happy. Where do you think the term "comfort-food" comes from? And food is particularly important during the holidays. Every family has their own traditional staples. Whether it's Grandma Ruth's pecan pie or Cousin Pat's green bean casserole, the holidays just wouldn't be the same without them.
Think back to that first holiday you spent away from home. Maybe you were visiting a friend's family or staying here at Tufts. You missed Uncle Gene's off-color humor that never fails to make everyone at the dinner table slightly uncomfortable, but what you really missed was the food. Even if the food you ate away from home was ten times better than what your own family serves, a piece of you - however small - silently yearned for Mom's tasteless, lumpy gravy.
I actually have the opposite problem in my family. The food is too good. My relatives are exceptionally good cooks and are particularly adventurous when it comes to trying new recipes - especially desserts. Each year our holiday table is transformed into a showcase of the decadent pies, cakes and tarts that fill the pages of Bon App?©?©t. From the caramel pumpkin cheesecake with cinnamon-pecan crust to the flourless chocolate tort with Kahlua-infused whipped cream, it's every foodie's dream come true.
Now here's where I get into trouble. I can't resist the tried-and-true family classics and yet, I'm also drawn to the new offerings that are inevitably flaunted before me. So I have a little of each. And then, I have a lot of each. Suddenly, I'm right back where I started.
(Just so we're clear, I'm not exaggerating. I easily ate five servings of dessert on Thanksgiving. Each time I heard a cousin or an aunt "ooh and aah" over so-and-so's cookies, I ate one - or two or three. This has to stop!)
I - like many of you - subscribe to the mentality that once I've already gone overboard eating a handful of cookies, I might as well make it two handfuls. I know that it's wrong, unhealthy, and that in 20 minutes I'm going to severely regret that extra piece of pie. But year after year, I continue my wild holiday food spree.
Perhaps it's just semantics. After all, "But it's Tuesday!" never garners the same reckless eating cues. But somehow my holiday free-eating-pass manages to extend far beyond the actual day of celebration. Christmas stretches from one day to a few days, and eventually I find myself binging for the entire month of December.
And so, short of a brain transplant to change my gluttonous habits (I am, after all, still the same kid who ate all of her Halloween candy on the very first night), maybe I'll start with some slight modifications. I'm going to allow myself one day of gluttony - not 28. Perhaps I could try limiting myself to one of the family classics, rather than eating all of them, and a sampling of the new recipes. After nearly three decades, I'm fairly sure I know what those tried-and-true desserts taste like.
Will it work? I'm not sure. It'll be a slippery slope, but at least it'll be a delicious one.
