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Posts from the ‘Diet and Food’ Category

Looking Back: Pizza (A Christmas Poem)

Getting into the holiday spirit?  Today I’m revisiting the ghosts of poems past with Pizza (A Christmas Poem).  Watch out for that pesky, fight-picking panc.

T’was the night before Christmas and all tinsel’s in,
Not a creature was stirring or making insulin.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care
In hopes that my islet cells soon would be there.
My children were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of pizza boxes filled me with dread.
I took out my pen, assessed the amount
And settled my brain to complete the carb count.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I went with a fright
(And on the chair arm almost ripped out my pump site).
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Highlighted the … thing? there at rest down below.
When what to my wondering eyes did appear
But a miniature Panc, looking all cavalier.
He looked like a corn cob, or maybe a penis.
I knew that he saw me, despite distance between us.

More rapid than eagles my insults they came,
As I whistled and shouted and called out his name.
“You stupid old pancreas! Where have you been?
It’s been 30 dumb years since I’ve seen you again.
From my childhood years to now raising my own,
Diabetes is the only life that I’ve known!
And now you waltz back, sitting there on my lawn
Expecting me to give hugs or to kiss or to fawn …”

But while I was ranting, the Panc, he just flew
Straight to the shed roof while I shouted, “Go screw!”
He stood there, so regal, and then, the rogue mutt,
He pulled down his pants and he showed me his butt.
And it became clear, as I fumed and I seethed,
That he came here to fight me, is what I believed.
So I steeled myself there, as the doorknob did rattle
And my pancreas came in my house to do battle.

He took out his betas, I whipped out a spoon
We stalked one another in my living room
His eyes, how they narrowed, his islets, how lazy!
(I was glad Chris was out ‘cause I’m sure this looked crazy.)
His droll little mouth was all knitted with rage
As he jabbed with his right, then drown dropped the steel cage.
It was just me and him, in a fight to the pain
“If you won’t make insulin, I’ll go full hurricane!”

We fought there for hours, just me and that thing,
I had a black eye and he pulled his hamstring.
Until finally – finally – I landed the punch
That sent the panc reeling and hurt a whole bunch.
While nursing his knee and cradling his arm,
My pancreas said, in efforts to disarm,
“You’ve bested me for decades, and I owe you a prize.
So grab that there pen and now open your eyes.
There’s a carb calculation, a quest for the ages,
And in minutes you’ll know it, so mark up those pages.
You’ve won, fair and square, and I owe you some solace.
So Kerri, here it is: the coveted Pizza Bolus.

He spat out some numbers and fine ratios
And I scrambled to write down his mathematical prose.
By the time he was done, our fight fences were mended.
I would remain the Lead Panc while his ass just pretended.
And he reached out his hand to shake, sealing the deal
I extended mine back, not knowing how to feel.
But I heard him exclaim, as he limped out of sight,
“You’ve won this round, Kerri. Enjoy pizza tonight!!”

 

But while I was ranting, the Panc, he just flew Straight to the shed roof while I shouted, “Go screw!” He stood there, so regal, and then, the rogue mutt, He pulled down his pants and he showed me his butt. Click To Tweet

Appetizer

Even the best laid plans can go awry when hypos creep in before the meal is served.

Glucose tabs … the most unappealing appetizer.

Zoodles for your Face

I had ten minutes to make something to eat while the little Guy napped and before a slate of conference calls began, and the zucchinis sitting on my kitchen counter were judging me for not cooking them yet.  So I made zoodles.

I can’t cook.  And so can you!

INGREDIENTS

  • one large zucchini
  • garlic cloves
  • olive oil
  • sea salt
  • cherry tomatoes

DIRECTIONS

  • Take your frying pan, pick off little egg bits that didn’t fully come off when you washed it, and then heat it up on the stove top at a medium heat.  Put a little olive oil in that pan.
  • Press the garlic and add it to the pan.
  • While the frying pan is heating up, use the Veggetti that you bought months ago but don’t use often enough and laugh every time you say the name and send that zucchini through it like it’s a woodchipper.  It is a satisfying exercise, twisting a zucchini through and watching it become veggie ribbons on the other side. Like a Play-Doh spaghetti maker you’re actually encouraged to eat the efforts of.

  • Slice a few of those cherry tomatoes and keep them at the ready.  Their time is coming.
  • Once the pan is hot, add the zucchini noodles (ZOODLES!) to it.  Stir here and there so it cooks evenly.  Add some sea salt to taste.  Once the zoodles are cooked to your preferred texture (I like mine a little al dente, Chris likes his cooked well, Birdy hates them entirely, the little Guy will eat anything in any form), add the cherry tomatoes until they are warm and then pull the pan from the heat.

  • Pour the whole concoction into a bowl.  I like to drain the zoodles after they cook to get rid of some of the water that collects, but not too much.
  • Eat it with your face.

A medium zucchini nets out at about 7 carbs, and the tomatoes add a few more, so I ended up bolusing for 10 grams of carbs and don’t usually see any kind of BG bounce.  Your diabetes may vary, though.

In the KNOW … Foods.

I was asked to review a box of KNOW foods, and I did that.  Forced to try waffles and muffins?  Twist my damn arm.

Actually, I didn’t do it alone, as the review process became a neighborhood taste-testing party.  We made a chart.  It was a thing.  Check out the review over at A Sweet Life!

Cauliflower Rice.

Not a cook.  Nope, not me.  Which is why this recipe for cauliflower rice was so useful, because it requires little thought, little cooking, and very little insulin.

Cauliflower rice

  • Buy a head of cauliflower.  Become friends with it.  And then rip it into small sections, keeping hold of mostly the florets (the tops of the trees, in Bird terms) and discard the stiffer stems.
  • Rinse the florets.  Dry them.
  • Put them in a bowl and mix with a little bit of olive oil and salt, to taste.  Also add garlic, if you’re gross.  (We’re gross.)
  • Take a food processor, if you’re one of those fancy people who has a food processor, and pulse the florets for 20 – 30 seconds in order to reduce them down to the teeny rice sized bits.  If you’re not the fancy type who has a food processor, take the blender and use that.  And if you’re full analog, grab a giant cheese grater and grate the florets.  (This last option will take a long time and you may be adding finger to your rice, so choose wisely.)
  • Fluff the “rice” with a fork and put into a bowl.
  • Take a picture of the bowl and realize it doesn’t photograph well, but put it on Instagram anyway.
  • Realize the whole process took four minutes and high five yourself for making such a healthy thing in minimal minutes.

Cauliflower rice

A post shared by Kerri Sparling (@sixuntilme) on

At our house, we used the cauliflower rice as a base for our eggplant parmesan, replacing the pasta.  I won’t lie and say it tastes just like pasta, but I won’t lie and say it caused a wildly high blood sugar, either.  We had eggplant parmesan that required 1.8u of insulin to cover it (mostly for the pasta sauce carbs).

Most recipes online that I saw clocked the cauliflower rice in at 5 grams of carbs per cup, so that’s the ratio I used to calculate my insulin doses.  Which means I did not bolus at all for it, since I only had a half a cup and my I:C is 1:12.

WARNING:  If you put it in your fridge overnight, even if it is in a tightly-sealed tupperware container, your whole fridge will smell like gas.  And not the “runs my car” sort of gas.   Beware.  

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