Last night, four friends enjoyed an evening of good food, friendship, and festivity.  It started as any ordinary outing might, with a time, and a place, and a plan.  But somewhere along the way we took a detour, and time disappeared.  Time moves forward, always forward, faster and faster it seems, but last night it slowed, or ceased altogether, as we settled in to enjoy the season and its gifts.  

We had driven up Noble Road to see the annual holiday lights at Nela Park.  “Nela” stands for the National Electric Lamp Company, bought by General Electric a hundred years ago.  The lights themselves were a bit less extravagant than I had remembered from the years when we took our own young children to see them, but the quality of the design did not disappoint.  Our friends had never before seen Nela Park, and we all stared, like children, at the wide waterfalls of red, green, yellow or blue light dripping down the large stone buildings, the blue-green Christmas-tree cones scattered on the front lawn alongside cartoonish images of small cars, and icicles dripped white on the branches of weeping cherry trees draped completely in pale blue.  Generations of families were arriving with babies in strollers to take annual holiday portraits before the spectacular backdrop.  

We passed through the Park, turned around, and headed out to eat.  We were on our way to Sarava, a Brazilian restaurant on Shaker Square.  Most of us ordered Bloody Marys, which arrived, as we had ordered them, smooth and spicy.  Perfect.  

I looked through the menu, and decided to try something I had never tried before.  I ordered two different salads, the first an appetizer and the second an entree.  I also ordered a side of rice, which, while tasty, turned out to be unnecessary.  The experiment was a grand success!  Both salads were really great — stunningly fresh and crunchy, and each with its own delicious, distinctive flavors.  The appetizer, cubes of mango and hearts of palm with spunky baby greens, arrived on a slender, bright white rectangle of a plate that offered up to me the bright yellow and green colors of the salad.  

The Bloody Mary was still great, even halfway through.

Then came a tasty, sweet salad decorated with long, dried plantains and crunchy, candied pecans. The best bargain on the menu had to be the heaping dish of Brazilian jumbo cashews, of which I ordered two, one for the table and one for me.  I dumped all the cashews on my plantain/pecan salad.  I might have saved some for the rice, too, but I didn’t think of it until afterward.  The Brazilian coffee, French-press style, was sweet, black, and fragrant.  Sergio, the owner, greeted us, and I was delighted to learn that his mother had once been a teacher of mine.  Our dinner was the centerpiece of a joyous evening.  

Almost two-and-a-half hours after we had arrived, we exited the restaurant for a stroll around the Square.  The hour was late, the air was chilly, and the streets were quiet.  Two very tall, handsome, and slender young men with good haircuts and pants reaching not quite to their ankles stood just outside the restaurant across the way.  They chatted quietly, their heads tipped together, waiting, apparently, for the rest of their party to join them, head home, sleep and then awaken to celebrate the remainder of the holiday.

Happy holidays to all…

I’ve been thinking about an idea that I’m going to call a “hierarchy of carbohydrates.”  It’s based on the concept of dividing the large and grand category of carbohydrates into several discrete groups, each of which may affect insulin release differently.

Any critical discussion about the carbohydrate in our diets begins with white flour and sugar.  Remember that if you look outdoors, you will notice that carbohydrate virtually never exists without the fiber intact.  So how did it get that way?  We humans removed it.  

White flour and sugar, at the top of the hierarchy of carbohydrates, are examples of what happens to carbohydrate after it’s been stripped of its fiber.  Remove the fiber from beets, dates, or sugar cane, and what’s left is sugar.  Remove the fiber (and germ) from wheat, and what’s left is called white, or refined, flour.  “Refined” means to remove the coarse impurities.  Or not.  Historically speaking, these are relatively recent inventions of the past 200 years or so.  We did not eat stripped carbohydrate much before that; it didn’t exist.  

Eating stripped flour and sugar is like being served carbohydrate on a silver platter.  It’s been pre-digested, at least in part, and all that’s left is for us to finish the process.  Since the food has already been partially broken down, there’s less work of digestion.  So we absorb these carbs exceedingly quickly, and our blood sugars rise accordingly.  The more rapidly your blood sugars rise, the more insulin you release to catch it.  This wastes insulin, which is the opposite of your intended goal to conserve insulin.

By the way, a terrific side benefit of cutting the white flour and sugar in your diet is that you end up decreasing significantly the amount of manufactured calories, or processed food-like items, in your diet.  You stand to reap substantial benefits by doing this. That’s why anyone attempting to conserve insulin is advised to limit, as much as possible, their consumption of white flour and sugar.  Of course, you may eat birthday cake, preferably homemade, on occasion.  But a diet that includes 6-10 (or more) servings of stripped carbohydrate on a daily basis is asking for trouble.  

This recommendation leads inevitably to the next question:  What about whole grains?  Grain is level two in the hierarchy of carbs.  And here’s where it gets more personal.  Large numbers of people report that the more grain-based food they eat, even whole grains, the more difficulty they experience maintaining a healthy weight, modulating their appetite and “cravings,” and stabilizing their energy levels.  Though not all people feel this way, some do.  To these folks, I say — trust your body.  Respect what it is telling you.  Do an experiment: try avoiding all grain-based products for a couple of weeks.  No wheat, barley, corn, oats, buckwheat, rice, or stuff made from them.  See what happens. See how you feel.  See how your pants fit.  

Assume now that after two weeks off grains you like how you feel, but your clothes are as tight as ever.  Level three in the hierarchy of carbohydrates is root vegetables (potatoes, parsnips, beets, squash).  These kinds of produce ripen at the end of the growing season.  If you think about it, food was traditionally more scarce in the wintertime.  Hence, a cellar filled with root vegetables is a kind of insurance policy against starvation.  It’s as if these foods are designed by nature to provide the body with a little bit of winter insulation, i.e., fat storage, at precisely the time we need it.  

So should you be avoiding root vegetables?  Of course not —  if you are active and at a healthy weight.  If, on the other hand, you are struggling to keep your personal winter insulation in a reasonable range, even with adequate exercise, and you’ve already markedly decreased the amount of grain in your diet, you may discover that decreasing root vegetables, especially white potatoes, makes a big difference.  

Level four in the hierarchy of carbohydrates is fruit.  Remember that some fruits, like mangoes and watermelon, contain larger amounts of sugar than others, like berries, cherries, grapefruit, apples, peaches, plums.  The more sugar, the greater the insulin release.  So if you’re looking for a way to further improve your insulin conservation, think about that.

Level five in the hierarchy of carbohydrates is beans.  Black beans, fava beans, pinto beans, kidney beans, navy beans, and America’s favorite bean, peanuts.  Yes, peanuts are a bean.  There are only a few diets that advocate the avoidance of beans, but the people who thrive on a diet low in grains, root veggies, high-sugar fruits and beans are proud and vocal.  I have to believe they struggled for a long while before they found success.  I theorize that some people are so exquisitely sensitive to carbohydrates that even beans, such a great source of nutrition in general, are a problem.  If this sounds familiar to you, check out the work of the indomitable Dana Carpender.

Finally, level six in the hierarchy of carbohydrates is green vegetables.  Yes, green vegetables are, technically, carbohydrates.  But the total amount of carbohydrate is so low that I encourage you to pile your plate as high as you like with all kinds of salads and green, leafy vegetables.  Unless you are a carb-counting Type 1 diabetic, there is no need to be at all concerned with the amount of green leafy vegetables you eat. Really, even if you are.

Use the hierarchy of carbohydrates to figure out your own best strategy for healthy living.  To summarize: Level 1 is stripped flour and sugar, and none of us should be eating much of these. Level 6 is green vegetables, and all of us should be eating plenty of these.  

Level 2 is whole grains, level 3 is root vegetables, level 4 is fruit, and level 5 is beans.  I have no specific recommendations here, because I believe that each person has their own unique optimal solution. But know that somewhere within these levels is a balance that will provide you with the raw materials you need to thrive.