Category: Food

Stupidity by Joe Wilcox
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Let’s Boycott Hershey Chocolates

Yesterday, I saw headlines about a forced legal settlement, involving the Hershey Company. New York Times story “After a Deal, British Chocolates Won’t Cross the Pond” says it all: “Let’s Buy British Imports, or L.B.B., agreed this week to stop importing all Cadbury’s chocolate made overseas”. Hershey insists that Toffee Crisp packaging too closely resembles Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, which is ridiculous considering they are very different confections and presented in different shapes.

Same must be said about Yorkie bar, which presumably so resembles York Peppermint Patty that chocolate buyers must confuse one for the other. Of course! People mistake finger-shaped confections with circular patties every day. Don’t you? The argument for Kit Kat is stronger, given name and packaging. But the ingredients are quite different. Have you ever eaten imported chocolate bars? British Kit Kat is creamier—fudgier might be better word—than its U.S. counterpart. 

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Photo by Joe Wilcox
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Flickr a Day 19: Indian Street Food

Vibrant best describes the photograph’s of Ulf Bodin, who works magic with contrasting areas of brightness and shadows. My father taught me to favor overcast skies when shooting outdoors. Ulf’s photostream portfolio shows how to effectively use light, and even long shadows, to artistic advantage.

“I’m in love with dark, high contrast, colorful, clean, sharp images”, says the former archaeologist. His profession is all about stitching together the past—from the pieces recreating what was from what remains. His photographic style isn’t far removed. “I post-process my images to recreate the mode and feeling from the photo moment. I never add things to my pictures, but sometimes I merge several captures to one”. 

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Living by Joe Wilcox
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This is Me Then and Now Too

Following my embarrassing confessional comparing photos of me in 2004 and 2014 comes another: 2005 vs 2015. Midday, my wife and I sat inside the local Panda Express, where she commented how I look like a different person from what I used to.

I’m lighter. In the photo on the left, from a decade ago in March, I weighed 95 kilos (210 pounds). Anne snapped the right pic while she ate lunch when today I weigh 63.4 kilos (139.8 pounds). That’s down from 70 kilos (152 pounds) in August 2014. 

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Living by Joe Wilcox
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This Is Me Then and Now

The photo left greatly embarrasses me, but I feel compelled to contrast it with the other. The heavyset me weighed 95 kilos (210 pounds), in September 2004. The other is from August 2014, when I weighed 70 kilos (152 pounds). I’ve lost another 2.5 kilos since my wife snapped the pic of me holding our cat, Neko. The change is dramatic.

Moving to California seven years ago on October 15 precipitated initial weight loss, which with increased activity occurred gradually to 82.6 kilos (182 pounds) early last year. The other 15 kilos (33 pounds) is result of massive dietary change, which is topic of my forthcoming book How I Beat Diabetes. Simply stated: I cut carbs and portions, switching to a diet high in protein, berries, nuts, and leafy veggies.

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Living by Joe Wilcox
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My Next Project: ‘How I Beat Diabetes’

I am working on a new ebook based on a personal, health crisis and will start taking preorders this week at Amazon: How I Beat Diabetes, qualifying repeatedly that Joe Wilcox is not a medical professional.

On July 13, 2013, my doctor called frantic about my glucose level. Day before, she drew blood for routine check on something else, and the lab ran the full panel. The number: 212 mg/dL Anything below 100 is safely normal. 

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Living by Joe Wilcox
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What Would Wendy Say?

This morning, as I stood in line at Wendy’s, something troubling occurred. The male manager—maybe store, maybe shift—slid his palm around one of the female cashier’s midriffs as he stepped around the counter and out into the restaurant. He slid his hand around her waist across her tummy. It was an affectionate touch, the kind a man might give a woman he loves. But she didn’t react as a lover might. Rather, she slightly stiffened, as did the casher next to her.

Of course, I observed a fleeting action, with very little context. But the touch troubled me. I left greatly concerned for both women and maybe others. For all I know, the boss is touchy with everyone, just a helluva friendly guy. But the cynic inside says there was more going on. 

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Living by Joe Wilcox
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Bean-hole Beans

It’s Saturday, and that means baked beans throughout Northern Maine. Most grocery stores sell fresh-baked beans (no canned stuff) and bread hot from the oven. It’s longstanding tradition with roots going back to the Pilgrims/Puritans. The tradition mingles with another: Bean-hole Beans.

Early Massachusetts settlers adopted the Native American tradition of baking beans in pots buried in the ground. For the religious folk, beans baked overnight would feed people on the Sabbath, the day of rest, which started on Saturday evening. The Puritans adapted Native bean recipes, also replacing—or rather changing—corn bread for brown bread. Nearly 400 hundred years later, throughout much of Maine, the tradition of Saturday night baked beans is steadfastly observed, with family replacing religion.

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