Snapshots from Italy V - The Inevitable Weight Gain

Some breakfast pastries, Mezzatorre Hotel, Ischia, Italy

Despite our walking every morning and brief work-outs in hotel fitness centers, our stomachs always looked like a Buddha's after several weeks of travel, especially in Italy. We had no will power when Caprese cake with chocolate and almond bits or apple tart with homemade jams every color of the rainbow sat slivered on platters for breakfast.

More breakfast pastries

After staying seventeen years at the same hotel on the island of Ischia, our breakfast chef (Sylvestro) delivered his SURPRISE specialties to us, split onto two plates, usually after we had finished a Continental breakfast with yogurt, fruit, and a slice of cake or some granola with a croissant. We received, for example, omelettes with creamy ricotta filling or over-easy eggs on thick homemade toast, topped with fried mozzarella.  We loved the pride he took in his work but resorted to sneaking in and out of the breakfast room before he could spot us. It was just too much food - troppo!

Breakfast chef Sylvestro at the Mezzatorre Hotel,  Ischia, Italy

Pastas are all made daily in any establishment that serves food in Italy, no matter whether it's a five-star ristorante or the tiniest neighborhood trattoria.

Local food products and liqueurs on Ischia

My will power completely disappeared when flat spaghetti with vongole and cozze (clams and mussels) in a butter Parmesan sauce was on the menu and Charley caved in the minute he saw rigatoni in minced veal ragout or lasagna.  It helped our waistlines that Ischia was in the southern region of Italy, since Southern Italian food is lighter (local catch of the day from the sea) than Northern Italian (ragu sauces and Bolognese, consisting of local meats). Nonetheless, pasta was always a course on the menu prior to the entree. We tried to skip at least one course and dessert. Of course, we sampled local wines or Prosecco (my favorite) with every meal and Limoncello afterward.

Author friend Margie Miklas in a cooking class in Puglia.  Used with permission.

Sparkling Prosecco wine

Limoncello - an after-dinner favorite 

It would take all summer to lose the added pounds, but it was all part of the experience.  If we went into withdrawal symptoms after returning home to diets, we could always eat at Camille's or The Old Canteen "on the Hill" (Federal) in Providence, R.I., where the Sicilian mob had dined before retiring to jail.

Pineapple symbol of hospitality at entrance to Federal Hill, Providence, R.I., and signage for Old Canteen Restaurant

The Five-Day Challenge

I took the challenge.  No, it wasn't a bucket of ice water over my head for MLS or a cleansing of my organs or any kind of iron-woman challenge.  It was the Skoop 5-day challenge.

My daughter-in-law asked me, "Would you like to try a powdered product I believe in?"

I knew she was a former spinning instructor and into all things healthy, including juicing.  "What is it?" I said.

"It's a plant-based super-food, really healthy.  I don't juice any more, because this one product contains so many of the natural foods I put into the juicer, and more."

I remembered her kitchen, littered with rinds and seeds after one juicing session.  I wasn't about to make that kind of a mess in my kitchen and besides, I was retired with no time to waste - there were more important things to explore!

"Like what?"

"Like antioxidants, veggies, probiotics, omegas, fruits, and greens in the form of grasses.  They're all super-foods from plants."

"Sounds like fodder for cows to me!"  I could still taste the juicing concoctions she'd put together that tasted like cucumber and not much else.

"Skoop 'B Strong' is a protein boost, without cholesterol or sugar.  You could try the Skoop 'A Game' for energy. There are different flavors, if you want to do the five-day challenge. The first day there's a packet with chocolate flavor, the next one has the flavor of greens, then the chocolate, and so forth for five days."

"How do I make it so I can actually swallow it?"

"You add frozen fruit or a non-fat soy or almond milk."

"Can I still eat my meals?"

"Well, I take mine first thing in the morning for a real energy boost.  On those days I usually skip breakfast because I mix the Skoop A and B together for a complete meal. But you can put it in food, not just drink it.  You can mix it with yogurt or oatmeal or bake with it."

"So I won't need my Kashi twigs and blueberries on the day I use my potion?"

"Nope.  The super-foods grow tissue, fight sickness and infection, heal wounds and inflammation, and give you energy.  Oh, and the Skoop owners started something called MISSION NUTRITION. They pledged a child's serving of fruits and vegetables placed in school lunch salad bars across the country for each serving of Skoop sold."

"You're a good rep for the product!  I'd try the five-day challenge with some 'A Game' samples."  Which she promptly produced.

I have to admit, I cheated.  Chocolate tops the list of my primary food groups, but the first day's chocolate powder, frothing in the blender with a cup of water, tasted nothing like the Hershey bar I was imagining.  And the only fruits I had in the house were blueberries and apples.  So I added some cherries from a can of pie filling, including a couple of tablespoons of the thick, sweet syrup.  I sipped mouthfuls of the concoction, no problem.

The next day I dumped the green-grass powder into my blender for breakfast.  I figured mixing it with water wouldn't hide the flavor of still-ripe hay.  So I poured a cup of vanilla-flavored soy milk in. Downright tasty!  Much better than the chocolate, actually.

The next day's packet was chocolate again.  By then I'd bought a package of frozen pineapple/strawberries and fresh bananas.  I dumped some of each into the whirl.  Tasted just like a milkshake - really.

We had to go away for two days to attend a memorial service. I welcomed my Kashi twigs with blueberries, but didn't tell my daughter-in-law that. I'd promised to finish the challenge, and I would.

After my liquid energy boosts, I ran around the tennis court like a gazelle.  Maybe my daughter-in-law was onto something for us over-60's?  If only Skoop would help my golf game!
Visit trish.healthyskoop.com for information about the company's three products.

Key West Revisited

Charley and I head south every year in late April for the Conch Republic Festival.  It's Key West's version of Mardi Gras, a celebration of the island's unsuccessful attempt to secede from the Union.  The fact that they didn't succeed in seceding doesn't seem to matter.

We head as far south as we can go until U.S. 1 runs out, ninety miles from Cuba.  Key West is a paradise for writers - and artists, lovers, snorkelers, divers, boaters, fishermen, campers, birders, foreigners, lesbians, gays, transvestites - ANYONE!  Just the drive down is worth the trip.  It takes five hours from Delray Beach, over forty-some bridges.  The sea changes on both sides from deep azure far out to vibrant turquoise in the channels to beige over the sand bars to thin pea-soup green in the runoffs.  Nonstop photo ops, but not at 45 mph between Key Largo and Duval Street.

The bizarre becomes commonplace here and acceptance is the norm.  A young Irishman walks the sidewalk with pink dye in his blond Mohawk.  The spikes on his head are outdone only by the spikes on the green iguana grazing on the sea grapes at the edge of our beach.  A van in orange and white psychedelic swirls advertises a number to call for transport to "Live! Naked Dancers."  As opposed to what - dead naked dancers?  The mainland seems a million miles away.  CNN reports that authorities have surrounded a suspect from the Boston Marathon bombings.  He is lying wounded under a tarp in a boat in someone's backyard.  We are in the twilight zone.

There is the drag race down Duval Street.  Men in drag - sequined dresses, bright makeup, wigs, and revealing undergarments - RUN in stilettos, then jump through tires down the street.  Some of the

shaved legs are pretty shapely, and the butts aren't bad, either.  The contestants must work out for this. There are no bulging guts.

Another event during the two-week Festival is the bed race.  Beds become floats, pushed by the aforementioned "beauties," while real-life beauties sit on the mattresses, feathered, flocked, or fried.  Monkeys and a lemur squat on spectators' shoulders peeling peanuts, while parrots and macaws squawk at the contestants.  The pigeons are busy!  We see a dog dressed in doll clothes wearing a straw hat.

The other event that is a blast, literally, is the Coast Guard's attempt to subdue the rebel Conch Republic pirates on their ship off Mallory Pier.  The Pier is the site of sunset kisses, cruise or Naval ship dockings, and acts of wonder under spotlights.  We've seen the same contortionist, now age 60, remove himself from a chained straitjacket for ten years.  It's also the spot for the water fight.  The Coast Guard, with its superior hoses, subdues the rebels, but not before it has doused the spectators to their bones.  None of us care, since we all have a glow from the sun or whatever. 

I no longer wear flip flops with cute crystal beads cutting between my toes, as I did when we first started going here.  Charley doesn't walk in sandals, either.  Instead, we ramble up Duval Street and back (two and one-half miles, total) in the morning in sturdy walking sneakers and socks.  Charley dons a safari hat, looking for native Key West species.  The temperature will climb near ninety.  He sports a three-day beard, Papa Hemingway-style, and blends right in.

We no longer peer into the Hog's Breath Saloon, Sloppy Joe's, or Margueritaville.  The stink of beer venting onto the sidewalk in the morning takes away my appetite.  Instead, we stop on a porch near the Southernmost Hotel for glasses of ice water, coffee, lemonade, and muffins. 

There is a problem during our walk.  I must shop by memory.  "I hate to shop," Charley reminds me.  The first day I do a memory snapshot of the exact item I see in a window, the shop where I saw it, and where the shop is located.  The following day Charley indulges me by retracing our route while I try to locate the items.  He prevails upon the nearest shopkeeper to provide a plastic chair.  One year a shopkeeper actually gave him a key chain as a reward for his patience.   On the way back to our hotel, we look at shirts to replace what he forgot  or "Y" straps that will hold his sunglasses in place, since they are slipping in the heat.  It's a trade off.

In the afternoon we collapse on our hotel beach and order a late lunch from our chaises, without moving.  Reminds me of a story.

We took another couple with us to Key West a couple of times.  The first time we set up at the same beach but had no idea our section was designated "Topless."  Tom settled in, took one look at what was in front of him, and never moved a muscle for the rest of the afternoon.  He didn't even open a book.  "This is where I want to have lunch the rest of the trip," he said.