Today on [Serious Eats](http://www.seriouseats.com/):
Kids Meals That Feed Curiosity
> Wendy’s also offers an audiobook about a mouse named Geronimo Stilton, but the cheese pictured on the package looks more like Emmentaler than Stilton. If you get this CD at Wendy’s, promise me you’ll explain to your kids that Stilton has mold in it, not holes. Thanks.
In lieu of climbing Everest this year, I am reading Gary Taubes’s book Good Calories Bad Calories.
Taubes is best known for writing a pro-Atkins 2002 article, “What if It’s All Been a Big Fat Lie?” Many people, including Michael Pollan, credit Taubes with pushing the low-carb craze over the top.
His book is essentially an expansion of that article, but it’s an American-wastline-sized expansion. I’m about 100 pages into the 500 pages of text (there are an additional 100 pages of notes). And it’s rough going–not because the book is hard to read or understand, but because it’s, well, convincing.
The first part of the book is about the relationship between fat consumption and heart disease. Taubes, bolstered by research both recent and old-school, argues that there is no good evidence for a link between heart disease and saturated fat in the diet, and furthermore, saturated fat (especially animal fat) seems to lower your risk of unexpected death in the aggregate, probably by lowering the risk of certain cancers. Later, I gather, he is going to argue that sugar is really bad for you.
This is the kind of stuff I would expect to find on a skeezy dot-com site peddling supplements and frozen dinners. But this is not that kind of book. You have to admire Taubes for not shrinking from controversy–given the last few decades of dietary recommendations, he might as well be arguing that a blow to the head with a bat is good for mental acuity and that puppies cause cancer.
So I have three questions.
1. Should I finish the book? I don’t think of myself as the sort of person who changes his opinions based on a single book, however well-argued. But to not finish the book because it might convince me to believe something weird? I don’t think of myself as afraid of books, either.
2. How does a person decide what to believe on a topic as fraught as diet and health? Taubes’s book has copious citations. But there are dozens of other well-written and well-cited books arguing that opposite. You could simply go with the official consensus, but if you had done that with hormone replacement therapy, you would have chosen wrong. Taubes, of course, gives HRT as an example of the establishment screwing up, and if they can be so wrong about HRT, they can be wrong about fat and sugar, too. That’s true, but it’s exactly the sort of thing I would say if I were trying to peddle any controversial idea. They laughed at Galileo, you know.
3. Say I do finish the book and I’m convinced. What should I do, personally? I love refined carbohydrates. One of the best things about living in Seattle is that we have the world’s best croissant, which is thankfully to be found eight miles from my house rather than eight blocks. I don’t want to cut croissants out of my diet.
In fact, I don’t want to cut anything out of my diet. My belief, as of now, is that we know so little about diet and health that the best bet is to eat whatever makes you happy. I don’t want to think about calories or grams of anything while I’m shopping, cooking, or eating. All I think about is: what am I hungry for? What looks tasty? What would Laurie and Iris enjoy? (This is, I know, a very privileged and temporary position to be in: no allergies, no illnesses, no doctor’s advice.)
So I’m predisposed to applaud negative findings about diet. Low-fat diets don’t prevent anything? Great! Fat is delicious! I’ll write an article about lard! And I’m equally predisposed to laugh off positive findings. I think I got some postmodernism in my science.
Readers, I ask you: how do you navigate this morass?
We had somewhat unorthodox meatball sandwiches last night. The meatballs were leftover chipotle meatballs from Rick Bayless’s recipe. I made my usual cilantro-lime coleslaw, and we had halved meatballs with coleslaw on toasted hamburger buns. Highly recommended.
My dad retired yesterday. His new job is jazz arranger and player with Iris. Iris: “My new job is playing with him!” Today he called me on his new, recreational cell phone to report something funny he read on a sign outside a coffee place. Retired for one day and he is already stealing my shtick!
Oh, the answer to the title question is that the retired guy’s shirt is less stained. That’s the only difference.
When Iris started school, I figured she’d get colds all the time. It didn’t occur to me that she’d bring them home and give them to me. It took a whole week and a half for this to happen. By the time Iris graduates from high school, I am going to look like a patient on House. Maybe I could get her to wear a face mask to school and tote a box of latex gloves. That would be totally cool, right?
While moping around, I noticed something mildly interesting. When I have a cold, I lose the ability to tell whether I’m hungry. This morning I only knew it was time for breakfast because I heard my stomach growling. But it’s not that I lose my appetite, either. I had a bulgogi sandwich for lunch. When I finished, I felt no more or less full than before. I don’t know whether this has to do with my sense of smell being impaired or what. If anyone wants to turn it into a satiety research project, just give me a byline on the paper and 10 percent of the grant and we’re cool.