Perils of the dessert bar

It’s the third week of January, and I’m officially off my diet. That’s a new record for me. But, like most things in life, it’s all in how you look at it. Three weeks is 21 days, but for a dog that’s two months. And I think we’ll all agree — two months is a really long time to stay on a diet.

About this time of year, most everyone who was on a diet has a good reason why they’re no longer on it. For some, it’s because of birthdays, theirs or someone else’s. All of that birthday cake out there is simply too hard to resist. For others, it’s because they just ran out of time. Their day is full of work, running kids from here to there, cooking dinner, and making sure homework is done.

I too have a good reason for falling off my diet and not getting back into shape. It’s not because I have a weakness for birthday cake. I don’t. It’s not because I don’t have time to go to the gym. I have plenty of time. I just don’t want to go.

It’s not because I have a weak character, just broke up with someone, or got put on restriction. I’m not mad at myself. Nor is it one of the myriad of reasons people come up with for failing at dieting and exercising. Nope. The blame for my failing is set squarely at the feet of the French and a big slice of stinky, yellow cheese. Kept reading; this one’s good.

In our defense, The Wife and I did start the New Year off right. We joined a gym. Yep — paid a whole year in advance for both of us.

Our gym is packed with every weight machine known to man. One entire wall is dedicated to just treadmills. Come 6 in the evening, I’m sure there’s no trouble finding an open one. Guess if we ever went, we’d find out.

Doc told us that a good workout regimen is just half of the diet equation. The other half is the diet part. We have to change what we eat for the rest of our life. You know, the wild mushrooms growing in our backyard only lived for 24 hours. So, 21 days is really 21 lifetimes. If you look at it that way, staying on a diet for 21 life times is really good. I think we’ll go out celebrating tonight and eat an ice cream sundae at Bruster’s.

Our new diet had me drinking at least eight glasses of water a day. I had to eat more fiber, four to five pieces of fresh fruit a day, nuts, whole grains breads, red meat twice a week, fish once a week, and chicken on the other nights. For three weeks I ate and drank just what I was supposed to and stayed away from all sweets.

I gained five pounds. But I must admit — I did get a lot of exercise. Drink eight glasses of water a day — you’ll find out why.

But staying away from sweets really wasn’t so bad — until we ate at that four-star restaurant in Asheville while on vacation. That’s where the French and that stinky yellow cheese destroyed my diet.

The restaurant was located inside a four-star hotel. We couldn’t afford to stay at the hotel and really couldn’t afford the restaurant. But we had a two-for-one coupon for the dinner buffet. The waiter showed us to our table, but first he gave us a guided tour of the buffet.

One whole room was filled with giant bowls of salads from all over the world. The next room was filled with platters of roast beef, fried chicken, shrimp, lobster, and roast duck. Another room was filled with trays of cheese and bowls of fresh fruit. But it was the last room which was the diet killer.

The last room, the largest of the four rooms, was the dessert room. Our dinner guide/waiter walked us around the table in the center. On it were five tubs of French ice cream, bowls of toppings such as M&Ms, Reese’s Pieces, Oreo cookies, chocolate sprinkles, honey walnuts, and homemade whipped cream. In the center of the table was a chocolate fountain, along with a small sign next to it that read, “Build your own sundae.”

Each table lining the walls was completely covered with every conceivable dessert: cakes, pies, pastries – if it was sweet, it was there. Each had a small sign in front describing what the delectable morsel was. All but one that is – and that was the one I wanted.

After finishing our meal, we waddled our way back to the dessert room. With a slice of this and a pinch of that, The Wife was satisfied with her selection and went back to enjoy. While waiting for the mystery dessert to arrive, I put small samples of all the desserts around my plate.

Soon the chef carried over a large round soufflé, set it down in the empty spot and left, without posting a sign. It was round with a brown crust, and I cut into the four-inch-thick soufflé with a cake knife. To my delight, what I thought was a thick, yellow custard came oozing out. Plopping it on the center of my plate, I happily waddled back to our table.

The Wife smiled and arched an eyebrow as I sat down, “I didn’t know you liked brie.”

Scooping up a spoonful of the custard I replied, “Don’t know what brie is, but this soufflé looks awesome.”

With that first bite, my mouth almost turned inside out. I had to eat the rest of the desserts on my plate and drink a couple of adult beverages just to get rid of the nasty taste. Only the French can get away saying a giant hunk of warm yellow cheese is a dessert.

With the French officially ending my diet, we enjoyed the rest of our vacation and visited the chocolate shop in Black Mountain. Now the Swiss, they know how to make a dessert.

All is not lost. I’ve come up with a new plan to stay trim in 2007. With the mushrooms growing in the backyard, there’s no reason to join a gym. I get all the exercise I need running around the neighborhood after my dog. For some reason he just loves rolling around in those mushrooms. My dog – he’s pretty but not too bright.