I have more Sicily food stories to tell, but I’m interrupting the sequence because an article hit me like a pie, or rather a Twinkie, in the face.

The Wall Street Journal’s Business & Retail section ran a story on Smucker’s problems with its acquisition of Hostess, the folks who have made Twinkies for nearly 100 years (96, to be precise: James Dewar invented them in 1930, filling them with banana cream until a banana shortage in World War II forced the switch to vanilla).

The Fine Print

I’d never eat a Twinkie, or recommend one, because of the ingredients. I value ingredients that are good for your body and taste good. I’m not against dessert. I’ve been working on a no-sugar carrot cake, a near total flop the first time around, which my husband Phil called an “experimental success.” He liked it, but said it wasn’t what you’d expect, and it wasn’t repeatable since I hadn’t written down the measurements. To me, it was more like a pudding cake. The latest revamp turned out pretty delicious. (I’ll try it again and hope to post it soon!) But Twinkies? As they say on Shark Tank: “For that reason (the ingredients), I’m out.”

The ingredients are: Sugar, Enriched Flour (Bleached Wheat Flour, Malted Barley Flour, Niacin, Ferrous Sulfate Or Reduced Iron, Thiamine Mononitrate, Riboflavin, Folic Acid), Water, High Fructose Corn Syrup, Tallow, Dextrose, Egg, Contains 2% Or Less Of: Soybean Oil, Modified Food Starch, Glycerine, Whey, Corn Starch, Salt, Corn Syrup Solids, Sodium Acid Pyrophosphate, Hydrogenated Tallow, Baking Soda, Cottonseed Oil, Soy Lecithin, Cellulose Gum, Sorbic Acid And Potassium Sorbate (To Retain Freshness), Sodium Stearoyl Lactylate, Polysorbate 60, Mono And Diglycerides, Xanthan Gum, Monocalcium Phosphate, Enzymes, Natural And Artificial Flavors, Yellow 5, Red 40.

To someone who tries to stick to real food, it reads more like a chemistry set, even if a tasty one that’s sold for a century. I still can’t wrap my head around how added sugars, high fructose corn syrup, emulsifiers, gums, preservatives, and dyes add to well-being. Plus, a Twinkie is all too sweet for my taste buds anyway.

“My recollection is they’re pretty tasty,” Phil said. “But today I won’t eat one because I don’t want to gain weight and I don’t want all that sugar.”

I’ll spare you the organ-by-organ rundown, but I don’t think that ingredient list is doing your body any favors. If you love them and eat a few a day, it’s worth reading up on your own.

My rule of thumb for a lot of food: If you don’t recognize what’s on the label, it might be time to put it back on the shelf.

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Phil to the Defense

Yet the reviews about Twinkies on the Hostess site are largely glowing. I can see why, and I can’t.

For the “I can see why,” I asked Phil about Twinkies as a kid. His father brought them home from the back of the bakery, returned shelf items.

“We enjoyed them except for the ones we bit into that didn’t look right inside. I loved Twinkies as a kid.”

My childhood memories were different. My parents didn’t buy Twinkies. Mom made a cake or cupcakes; Grandma kept Chips Ahoy and Social Teas, but neither, as far as I remember, ever bought us a Twinkie.

Still, plenty of people do pick them up. The Hostess brand is a $1 billion business.

My counter: Think about your body. You’ve got just one. Put in what’s good, forget the rest. If you want a Twinkie for a treat, I won’t stop you, but keep in mind what’s in it.

What a Billion Dollars Bought

None of that is Smucker’s real headache. IT issues and other operational snags are dragging on Smucker’s $5 billion acquisition of Hostess. A Twinkie’s shelf life is 65 days, so it has to move faster than other Smucker products, which last a year or so. The IT and distribution fixes aren’t fully in place, according to the Journal. I was surprised to read that during the pandemic 70% of consumers were eating at least two snacks a day, but healthier-eating trends have slowed snacking overall, another challenge for the brand.

Here’s the thing, though: those snags aside, Twinkies are so woven into the culture that many people know exactly what’s in one and still reach for it. Phil put it bluntly: “When you need them, you gotta have them.” Smucker is betting its business on precisely that. As its CFO, Tucker Marshall, put it, “indulgent snacking is still important.”

Tempting Phil, I asked him again, despite his earlier resolution not to eat one today.

“Would you still eat a Twinkie today?”

“Well, are you offering one? If you are, we’ll talk.”

The nostalgia is sticky. Even the receptionist at my doctor’s office, when I asked if she ate Twinkies, blurted out a story about how she and her sister grew up on them, her sister especially. She tried one again recently and said they’ve changed: the taste was a little different and the size a little smaller than she remembered.

Those are issues for someone else’s articles!

Nostalgia, comfort, permission to indulge: that’s really what Smucker bought. The Hostess brand still moves a billion dollars even though you can’t defend it nutritionally. That was never the point. A Twinkie is what many people know and love. Not that I’m their marketing guru, but that’s what Smucker’s should unabashedly lean into.

That’s why, 100 years on, this beloved snack is still, as Smucker says, “important.”

Me, I’ll stick to the no-sugar carrot cake. Recipe coming soon!

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As many of you know, I love bread pots. They’re on my list of favorite kitchen appliances. I have a simple bread pot recipe that I tweak to make variations of fresh bread. Experimenting with flours became an important element of the process. I hadn’t known much about flours before, but all of a sudden I was buying different kinds to test them out. And given that breads are carbs, I wanted to make the best breads I could. While you can’t miss with all-purpose flour, I did some research and was interested in finding flours made with ancient grains. I had read they potentially offered blood sugar control, could help reduce cholesterol and improve gut health.

That wasn’t something I could find in our grocery stores. But I could find it in Sicily, if we went looking for it. It was among the top things I wanted to do on the trip: find a farm with ancient grains.

During our trip to Sicily, I reminded our friend and guide Gianluca I was very interested in ancient grains. Could he help me find them?

Our Sicilian adventure took us from the east to the west coast of the island, but by our 20^th city we landed in Buseto Palizzolo, which is a small town east of Trapani. Gianluca hadn’t known of any farms with the ancient grains before the trip, but after his investigation while we were there, and a few calls, we were standing in front of the owner of Miceli Azienda Agricola Bio, a 20-hectare farm. Rosaria welcomed us and jumped right into telling us about the company’s grains, flours, and pastas.

As my husband Phil pointed out in his new book, You Are AI’s Best Friend—From Olives to Algorithms: A Human Guide, in which he talks about how serendipitously we ended up at the olive mill in the Province of Siracusa, we learned Sicilians could be quite welcoming to complete strangers dropping into their lives and business.

Rosaria took us into an area of the house where she had bags of wheat and products in packages. She explained everything in Italian but fortunately there was a brochure in Italian and English. On the cover it read: “Treat the earth well! It is not a legacy from our grandparents but a loan from our children.”

I was in just the right spot. As she spoke to Gianluca at length, and he translated for us, I checked out the brochure. They grow olives to make olive oil, and use the arable land for growing ancient Sicilian grains.

Specifically, they grow perciasacchi, the Senatore Cappelli variety, chickpeas, and pulse vegetables, namely sulla and fava beans. The old local varieties are part of an organic farming effort that protects biodiversity and their natural heritage. They rotate wheat with pulse vegetables, to make the soil more fertile, and they don’t use chemicals.

About six years ago they connected with a stone mill and an artisanal pasta factory and started making their own flour and pasta. The brochure stated that “Traditionally stone-processed, they are not subjected to the high temperatures that are typical of industrial processing, which allows the nutrients to remain intact.”

I was thrilled to learn more about these grains. Looking at the labels on the bags of flour and pasta, I read the nutritional information closely. The brochure had said the Sicilian ancient grains were easier to digest and rich in antioxidants.

“Because they are processed in stone mills, they retain the germ, vitamins, fibre, minerals, and all the nutritional properties present in the grain,” the brochure said.

Another benefit: the wheat grows tall, up to 1.80 m, about 5 feet 11 inches, roughly the height of a tall man, so it shades out and outcompetes weeds naturally. The brochure said this is why they can be grown without using pesticides and chemical fertilizers.

Naturally, I was happy as could be navigating the long stalks of wheat in my arms. It was better than any bouquet I’d been given, though the lovely ones Gianluca gave me upon meeting in Catania were a close second. (Special thanks to Rosaria for the video of the wheat blowing in the field.)

I purchased as much as I could feasibly take back. A few bags of flour, pasta, all commercially packaged. Phil wondered how it was going to work with our luggage already stuffed. I assured him no problem. We could always buy another piece of luggage. He smiled.

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Little by little, each food-related stop we made expanded our knowledge of the agricultural scene in Sicily. Buseto Palizzolo is one of the places with the Valli Trapanesi DOP, an olive oil with Protected Designation of Origin.

Phil and Rosaria converged on the wheat grain. I thought about how I could take back more flour. Phil said that for all the technology available to farmers today, this visit showed the culture itself has been retained. Once more, we learned from the land.

When we got home, I cooked the pasta first. For a Sicily-themed dinner party, I broke into the busiata trapanese lunga, the very long, twisted pasta strands. The pasta was made from the organic perciasacchi durum wheat semolina I’d gone looking for in the first place, so it was exciting and fun to serve.

The flour waited longer. This morning a loaf finally goes into the bread pot.

There was no way I wasn’t going to visit the Anna Tasca Lanza Cooking School while I was in Sicily. I’d wanted to go for a decade, but in all that time, my husband Phil was working full-time, life was busy, and I could never pull away. I’m not sure where I first heard about it, maybe I read about it online, but it came to my attention just as I was beginning to care more about food.

I had finished writing The Memory Book in 2014, and Chef Laura Rios had created the Kremsnita cake recipe in the back of it. I asked her to stay on with me because, like Phil, by then I was working, too. I sat at a corner of the dining room table every day, writing press releases, pitching to the media, and running marketing projects with a colleague in India. With all that going on, I needed help making sense of the Blue Apron meal-kit boxes piling up each week.

Sometimes the recipes in the Blue Apron boxes were simple enough, but other times they were involved, leaving me unsure what to do. But I kept them coming because I thought I’d at least get some good food out of it, and it was supposed to be easy enough. Laura stayed. She and I made over a hundred of those boxes between us.

Along the way, I watched Laura cook and slowly grew more interested. It’s a little ironic, because I’d never cooked much before. Watching her move through vegetables, proteins, fats, and carbs and turn out beautiful, simple dishes that tasted so good made me realize I might learn something from her and make something lovely, too. Even if it wasn’t lovely, it would be a personal creation, hopefully edible, with an opportunity to get it better the next time.

Almost but not quite

In truth, I once came within a wire transfer of going. In 2016, I found the program I wanted, the school’s “Autumn Flavors of Sicily” workshop but in the end I couldn’t pin down the date. The timing never quite lined up again, and life swept me back up. And so the Anna Tasca Lanza school stayed on my someday list for almost another decade.

Since then, I’ve developed my own style focused on vegetables, proteins, fats, and carbs. I keep meals very, very simple and try to find the highest-quality ingredients I can; given that, it’s hard to make a bad meal unless you burn it or cook it poorly. And that can and has happened. But you already know I love the Instant Pot (one of my favorite kitchen products just like the bread pot), and as long as I don’t steam the food to death, things work out pretty well.

That’s exactly what struck me about the food in Sicily. It can be simple and delicious precisely because the quality is so high. That’s something I love and try to follow, and I felt the Anna Tasca Lanza school embodied the same principle: a huge estate that is home to the cooking school, where they also produce wine and other foods on the farm.

We didn’t have time to spend a full week taking part in their Cook the Farm program[1], where people get directly involved in food production (the olive oil, the wheat harvest, the honey, and all the other aspects of the farm), but we could certainly come for an afternoon, have lunch with them, and pick up some tips.

On the road

Vallelunga is the nearest town to the Anna Tasca Lanza Cooking School. The road there took us past vegetable stands with homemade price signs, like little flags waving us down. Grapes, lettuce, red peppers, tomatoes, greens: purple, red, green, all the colors of a good plate.

Thank goodness Gianluca was driving. A glance to the right put me eye-to-eye with tall, dry stalks lining the road, and beyond them parched land, scattered trees, and undulating mountains in the distance. I could see ground being readied for planting, cut out from the grass, with rocks heaped nearby. I suppose the whole of it had once been grass and rock. What hard work, I thought. I hoped automation had made it easier to work the land and grow the food.

Wide sweeps of farmland, a paved road winding through them, beckoned us further in. Passing Valledolmo and the signs for the Appennino Bike Tour, we knew we were getting close. Soon a town lay in the distance, and the roads around it were nowhere near as good as the freshly paved stretch we’d enjoyed earlier. Gianluca slowed down, but some bumps still lifted us from our seats. It’s completely understandable why many Sicilians would rather see money spent on local infrastructure than on a bridge to the mainland.[2]

More signs appeared, including one for the Madonna di Miano. With respect, the Madonna would have to wait. I think she’d forgive us. Excellent food and cooking tips were calling. The school had asked us to arrive at 10:30 AM, and suggested 10:15 AM so we’d have time to get acquainted and be shown around before the lesson. Fortunately, when we passed the sign it was still short of 10:30, with only a short drive left, about five to ten minutes to Case Vecchie, which sits in Contrada Regaleali, the rural district outside Vallelunga.

More lush green hills rolled by, rows of olive trees and green stalks shooting toward the sky, the mountains standing as overlords of this docile domain, at least to a tourist’s eye. It was still. No tractors rolling. Calm, waiting for the time the land would be worked.

I saw a sign: “Case Vecchie punto vendita,” with a patchwork of greens behind it, slopes and mountains rising beyond. Case Vecchie is the school’s hamlet within the 600-hectare wine estate, Tenuta Regaleali. The Tasca brothers bought the land in 1830, and generations of the Tasca d’Almerita family have cared for it since.[3]

Around we went, the land opening into a maze of harvested fields, the crops already in, the bare earth combed into long contour lines, waiting to be planted again. A lone stone farmhouse sat out in the middle of it, and along the far ridge a line of wind turbines stood against the haze.

Anna Tasca Lanza Cooking School

Finally, we pulled in. The school occupies a large honey-stone farmhouse property, with bold blue accents lining the window frames and a gate of the same blue doors with an iron arch fanning out above it.

Viviana Calvagno, the hospitality coordinator, met us and ushered us through the gate into a passageway between two buildings. At the end, we stepped into an inner courtyard, low farm buildings on every side, each with the same blue trim. A few wooden chairs and a table stood to one side, and plants in large pots lined a ledge.

We’d be cooking in the kitchen, and Viv led us there, where we met Leah Morano, the chef in residence. The room was long, with a table that seated twenty. A floor-to-ceiling china cabinet held glassware and serving pieces, and a framed award from the Culinary Institute of America hung nearby with a few photographs. At the far end stood a bright stainless-steel kitchen, and something was already waiting on the counter: flour and water. I looked around. In a niche sat a wooden box stamped with the Almerita and Tasca names, plates standing in a vertical holder, framed artwork of mushrooms, and a vase-like container filled with tall kitchen tools, like long-stemmed plants.

Something freshly baked rested on the stone there, too, and I wondered whether it was part of the day’s dessert, and what we might do with it. I often had that feeling with Laura: not being much of a cook, or a cook at all, I usually had no idea what she had in mind. It would emerge as we went, and I helped where I could. It never escaped me how interesting it was to watch and learn from Laura.

Back to reality in the Anna Tasca Lanza kitchen, we donned aprons, and I got a kick out of watching Phil stare at his little bowl of flour and water. He seemed to be thinking, hmmm… this is going to be interesting. Gianluca, meanwhile, jumped right in, knowing exactly what to do: add water to the flour. Phil watched Leah and got right to it; they handed him a plastic wedge to scoop up his flour and knead it. A fish to water, I thought. Flour to water, actually. Once the little balls were done, they were wrapped in Saran and set aside.

At the stove

Leah turned our attention to flour, salt, and pepper. We’d be making a chickpea paste for the panelle, Sicily’s golden chickpea fritters. She did the honors of getting it going. It could stiffen quickly, so she urged us to keep it moving. She jumped back in to make sure it was the right consistency.

Before long we were slathering it onto a plate, like icing a cupcake end to end. I noticed Phil lifting his head now and then to check how Leah was doing it. Who knew Phil could be so engaged by chickpeas? He took the job to heart, which was good. I’d need him just as interested back home in our New York kitchen.

You can find these fritters on the street in Palermo. They’re a popular street food known as panelle.[4]

Phil smiled, that he could ice cupcakes, or rather spread the chickpea paste evenly across a plate.

We couldn’t revel in small wins for long: Leah already had two large wooden cutting boards in her hands.

Later, once the chickpea paste had hardened, she showed us how to free our slender creations from the plate with a knife. Then she cut them into triangles so they could be slipped into hot oil, turning them “golden.”

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Bravo, Phil

It was great to see the demo of the cavatelli, the little semolina-and-water pasta we’d toss with fresh tomato sauce and ricotta salata. Leah rolled the dough into a long pencil shape, pressing with the lower part of her hand to lengthen it, then cut it into pieces and pressed each against a ridged wooden tool with the side of her thumb, rolling it off so the wood left its marks. In the end you have a little piece of pasta “with all these nooks and crannies for sauce to get into,” Leah said.

“Bravo,” said Gianluca, seeing Phil quickly master the process. Gianluca got into the spirit of it too and was also very good. I was in the background taking a bit of video, thinking about how we could recreate this at home.

The pasta looked easy enough to make: it was just semolina and water, and once you had the right consistency and temperature, the dough rolled out easily, and you could use that little wooden tool to shape the cavatelli.

Phil remained industrious, turning out one little cavatelli one after another while the rest of us stood around chatting about cooking.

The pasta sauce had been made in advance so we were set there.

Stretching the meat

A nearby tray held cut white bread, a quarter-loaf left uncut, bay leaves, red onions, pistachios, ham, cheese, and an egg.

Leah said that we’d use some of these ingredients to make a savory filling, wrap the beef around it “like a burrito.” It was called involtini di carne. Our job was to put some of the filling on the beef, then fold the beef’s corners around it so it looked like a little packet.

Then we were going to skewer that little beef packet with a bay leaf and slices of onion between the bread, roll the whole thing in olive oil and breadcrumbs, and bake it. Phil listened intently and seeing him take to the role of sous chef so naturally really inspired me. This was going to be good. He who had not planned to immerse himself so deeply was knee deep in things.

Leah explained that this was a way to stretch a small amount of meat to feed many more people; carried up into the aristocracy, it was enriched with luxuries like pistachios, ham, and cheese, which turned it into something far more elevated.

Even that was a tip in itself: pistachios, especially crumbled, elevate a dish, and I use them all the time at home, especially as an edible decoration on homemade soups.

Once the skewers were rolled in a deep plastic bin of olive oil and set on a baking dish, Phil and Gianluca stood for a picture, but there was more to go.

Enza’s cake

The dessert was intriguing. I don’t eat much dessert, but this would be the exception. Leah reached for a cookbook and opened it to an aerial view of a cassata near the center. It’s a luscious cake with candies on it. Leah said, “This one is totally about pleasure.”

And honestly, that’s how I see dessert. I eat very healthfully and watch where my ingredients come from, but that doesn’t mean I turn down everything that’s sweet. Everything in moderation, as they say, and this was today’s moderation.

Leah said cassata starts with marzipan lining the pan. A layer of sponge cake soaked in limoncello is the base. That is followed by sweetened ricotta, which she described as “beautiful ricotta from our shepherd.” After that there is another layer of cake. On top of that goes the glaze and candied fruit.

“It’s a very structural, celebratory dessert,” she said. (You can find the recipe in The Food of Sicily: Recipes from a Sun-Drenched Culinary Crossroads, by Fabrizia Lanza and Guy Ambrosino, photographer.)

All the while, pastry chef Enza Di Gangi was working away. Leah told us Enza has loved making pastries, cakes, and sweets all her life, learning from her mother, her grandmother, and the rest of her family. She’d been at the school for 26 years. My goodness, how many cassatas she must have made in that time!

“The beautiful thing about this is that it’s very ornate, and the finished presentation is really beautiful. Yet it’s a pretty forgiving process. We do it in layers, so if you have to patch a little bit, it’s ok. You won’t see it in the front.”

How did Enza make such a well-structured marzipan?

It looked hearty and edible as it was, tempting, even, in a green that said go, like a street sign. The color, Leah explained, comes from blanched or charred greens; to that go almond flour, pistachios, and powdered sugar, rolled out into sheets. Enza lined a pan with a strip of it to form the cassata’s edge, trimming the overhang so it met the rim exactly.

“If you have time, it’s best to let this dessert set in the refrigerator overnight. But you don’t need to bake it or anything like that.”

Remember the cake sitting in the niche? It turned out to be a sponge cake, waiting to be used in the cassata.

Phil was right there alongside Leah when she asked if anyone wanted a taste. He was perfectly positioned, too, when she cut the sponge cake in half and held it to his ear so he could hear it: “sounds like a sponge,” she said, pressing the sides of the cake. The effect comes from eggs alone, which, Leah said, Enza beats for quite a while.

The cake isn’t very flavorful on its own, which is why the limoncello goes in. Enza sliced the sponge into layers and laid them into the pan, trimming any edges that hung over the side.

Enza picked up a spoon and a measuring cup of limoncello, and spooned it over the slices of cake lying in the pan.

“Do you want to taste limoncello?”

“Sure,” said Phil.

In the meantime, Enza picked up a bowl and began spooning out fluffy white puffs of sweetened ricotta. Did she fly into the clouds for this one? Leah invited us to taste it. Phil demurred, but I grabbed a spoon.

I could see exactly what was happening here, even before Leah said it: “You really do have to have all the beautiful elements done to the level Enza managed.”

And this is where I’ve come down to in my kitchen these days. Beautiful ingredients prepared well. Do that, and you have a shot at a great meal. It won’t necessarily be a fancy one, but probably a truly delicious one.

Three more long slices of cake were layered over the ricotta. Then Enza set a plate over the pan and flipped the whole thing, so the bottom of the cake pan became the top. She prepared a lemon-and-sugar glaze, mixing until it reached a thick consistency.

She spread the glaze on the cake. Then came the candied fruit, and one of them, Leah said, was candied squash.

Is it really squash? I asked.

It really was: zuccata[5], made from a long, pale Sicilian gourd that isn’t much to taste on its own but candies into a nice decoration. I’d never heard of such a thing. I’d have to remember that one.

A break for the “chefs”

Viv had set up a table outside with white wine and the panelle. Salted and with lime, the panelle were addictive. And this is coming from someone, me, who never eats anything fried.

The sun shone. I felt a light breeze, and breathed slowly.

We went back inside and sat down for the meal. As we did, all I could think of was the school had been worth the decade of longing. I was here with Phil and Gianluca, both of whom, especially Phil, had immersed themselves in making pasta, tasting marzipan and turning the chickpea creation on the stove. Food is family and friends. It’s the love it takes to create it, and share it. Perhaps that was the best insight I gained for my own table. I share it for yours.

Getting There

The Anna Tasca Lanza school sits within Case Vecchie, a cluster of old farm buildings on the Regaleali estate near Vallelunga Pratameno, deep in agricultural Sicily. The school puts both Palermo and Catania at about a two-and-a-half-hour drive, with the trip becoming closer to two hours if you’re leaving from central Palermo. Another option is the train. The nearest station is Roccapalumba-Alia, about an hour by train from Palermo, and from there, Case Vecchie can help arrange a shared shuttle to their location.

Note:

Our time at the Anna Tasca Lanza school deepened our understanding of Sicilian living. Food and custom and the land are all bound together here. That theme runs through Phil’s new book, which travels, as its subtitle has it, from olives to algorithms. Philip Fischer’s You Are AI’s Best Friend—From Olives to Algorithms: A Human Guide (Minted Prose) is available on Amazon.

[1] Cook the Farm is the school’s immersive food-education program, founded in 2016: Cook the Farm, Anna Tasca Lanza.

[2] The proposed Strait of Messina Bridge has long drawn local opposition; the “No Ponte” movement argues the money should go to existing infrastructure instead: NPR.

[3] Tenuta Regaleali and its history, the Tasca d’Almerita family, on the estate since 1830: tascadalmerita.it. The Anna Tasca Lanza Cooking School at Case Vecchie: annatascalanza.com.

[4] On panelle as a Palermo street food, see “Panella on Wikipedia.

[5] Zuccata is candied cucuzza, the long, pale Sicilian gourd, traditionally used to decorate cassata and other Sicilian sweets: Specialty Produce.

Caro Amico,

Jet lag or not, I was ready to hit the ground running in Catania. I am, as you know, connected to this place through my maternal grandmother, Grace, who emigrated with her family to America at the turn of the 21st century. They were seeking a better life with more opportunities.

Interestingly, while my parents traveled overseas to various countries, they never came here.

But now here I was, for a second time two decades later, and I intended to do a much better job of seeing it than the first time. Back then, my husband Phil and I breezed through on our way to other, more well-known places like Taormina.

To acclimate myself, I headed straight to Piazza del Duomo, a small yet elegant baroque square with an elephant at the base of an obelisk. Tucked in a corner of the square there is a fountain where the water spills out so naturally, you’d think it had been flowing like this for centuries, which it probably has.

Standing there, listening to the fountain, I realized something: before I launch into talking about the food, there’s something else to tell you about this city.

Catania is what you see — and even more enjoyable if you can see beyond that. There’s a faded grandeur, spectacularly revealed in worn buildings with stunning facades and intricate architectural precision. Carved figures, genteel balconies, and warm lights have weathered the test of time and now share space with graffiti.

The graffiti was less of a disturbance than I expected. Strangely, it adds to the city’s cool, chic, slightly edgy vibe. The streets are clean, which counts for a lot. I can see both what Catania is now and what it can become.

For adventurous souls who find romance in this kind of beauty, like sipping a cool drink in an utterly peaceful garden, vines flowing, surrounded by antiquity, right in the middle of the city, Catania deserves a spot on your list.

And now, dear readers, to some observations and takeaways on the food.

The Fish Market

I expected a huge market, but the one I stopped at was actually relatively small, sandwiched between buildings and a train track. It’s a bit gritty and chaotic, with tables piled high with swordfish, tuna, octopus, squid, and more, all laid out to be sold.

Other fish floated in trays of bloody water, primitive but perfect in its freshness. I could smell the blood in the air, the life it brought drifting away. I found another fish, stingrays, their eyes frozen at death, staring at me and everyone else passing by.

Tables were set up, but I noticed plastic buckets were also flipped over to hold extra trays. Some of the shouting startled me. The knives hitting the table after slicing through wide pieces of fish transfixed me, as did the quick bursts of banter to close a sale, a plastic bag filled to the brim and handed over.

These moments filled the air as thick as the smell of fish itself.

I decided to make friends. I struck up a conversation with a young fisherman. Fishing runs in his family: his grandfather fished until he was 78 and is now 96.

When he found out I was from NYC, the young man, clad in a worn t-shirt, shorts, and rubber boots, said he’d like to go to America. He loves to travel and has driven to many places, but has never gotten on a plane. He admitted he was a bit concerned about it.

I said, “Don’t worry — one day, a plane will get you to America.”

He laughed, but I could tell the idea probably intrigued and terrified him at the same time!

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Ideas from Lunch

We found a little spot near the market for lunch. The appetizer alone sparked food inspiration.

They made a cod paste, like the consistency of tuna, and paired it with a dollop of thick chickpea soup and warmed soft tomatoes. It was served with a toasted crostini drizzled with olive oil and seasoning. Even without the chickpea, this seemed like something I could re-create in a new way at home.

The pasta dishes were nothing like what I make at home. They used anchovies and tuna eggs — ingredients I don’t either have or cook with — and somehow made it all work beautifully. I’m game to explore using anchovies at home, especially as a seasoning to enhance flavors.

The tuna steak provided the best ideas. It was perfectly cooked: browned on the outside, tender and rare inside. They topped it with a mix that reminded me of a Greek salad: chopped tomatoes, cucumbers, and these huge capers scattered across the plate. I didn’t even recognize them as capers at first, they were so large.

The mix of warm tuna with the cool, crisp salad was satisfying and refreshing.

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Evening Snack

After more walking, and yes, more churches, we wrapped up the night with cold drinks and three arancini. By 8:15 PM, the humidity had finally lifted, though it was still warm.

Arancini are everywhere here and truly iconic. These golden, fried balls are stuffed with a rice mixture that includes salmon, shrimp, and other fillings. I don’t usually order fried food, but when in Sicily…

I scooped out the filling and left most of the crust.

Maybe they could be made with an air fryer? I don’t own one since I rarely eat fried food, but perhaps I can find a way to make these slightly differently. Maybe baking them? Still, I’d aim to capture the spirit of what I tried here.

I’ve learned you don’t have to be a purist in the kitchen. Do your best and focus on what’s interesting and pleasing to you.

There is so much more to say beyond this sampling, but I will get to it all in time. For now, I end with Phil being serenaded over a coffee. The music sounded familiar, I’d heard it before while watching The Godfather.

A perfect segue, since one of our next stops is Savoca, a hilltop Sicilian town where Michael Corleone once hid out and first saw the beautiful Apollonia he wished to court. Michael visited Bar Vitelli, and we will too. I can’t wait to see what foods we discover in this special place.

Con affetto,
Linda

Letters from Sicily: The Journey Begins

So many esteemed writers, from Byron to Hemingway, have traveled to Sicily over the years. Many of you may have been there yourselves. I wondered, what more could I possibly say? What would I write home to you about?

Of course, I’d like to share the food I’ve discovered along the way, and what we can learn from Sicilian culture, especially where food preparation is done by hand in the old way. That’s what fascinates me: unprocessed, unfiltered, and undeniably real. I hope it captures your interest too.

Back in 2002, when I first visited Sicily, I noticed some of what was on my plate because I kept a handwritten note on our itinerary with the following: “typical Sicilian fare: homemade bread and breadsticks, shrimp with lime and avocado, seafood and lambsteaks, sausage, hot olives, pasta with homemade sauce, homemade sauce, pastries, and coffee.”

Among my papers and postcards from that journey, I had even saved a menu listing amberjack fish with aromas, breast of chicken with mushrooms, potato mireille, zucchini in meat sauce, and chocolate cake.

Clearly, food was present, but back then the Fischer Kitchen didn’t exist and I was a year away from marrying again. My mind was on other things like a big move from the suburbs to the city rather than the meals I would one day make myself.

I was far from it then and still believed eating out was a good option. It can be, but the best one I’ve found is cooking and eating at home. It’s always my number one preference.

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Our first stop is Catania, Sicily, the birthplace of my paternal grandmother, Grace. With tears welling in his eyes, my father once told me she passed away when I was just three.

In that same conversation, he said years earlier, he had served in the army and was supposed to be stationed at a facility in Huntsville, Alabama, where, as he put it, “a German scientist worked, a guy named Braun.”

At the time, I didn’t think much of it. Only later, thanks to Phil and his love of science, did I realize my father might have meant Wernher von Braun, the rocket engineer who contributed to the success of the U.S. space program. That small detail brushed up against something far bigger than Pop.

But my father’s orders were changed, and instead he was sent to Ft. Wadsworth in Staten Island. “I was lucky not to be sent to Huntsville,” he’d say. “I got to see my mother every night, and she wasn’t well.”

Nothing replaces a mother’s love, her meals, the closeness of family. And so, with those memories in my heart, to Sicily we go.

Salutations and Closings Guide

Throughout these letters, you’ll see Italian greetings and sign-offs.
Here’s a short guide:

Salutations (Openings)

• Caro Amico → Dear Friend

• Cara Lettrice → Dear Reader

• Caro Abbonato → Dear Subscriber (masculine form)

Closings (Sign-offs)

• Con affetto → With affection

• Sempre tua → Always yours

• A presto → See you soon

• Con calore → With warmth

• Con gioia → With joy

• Un abbraccio → A hug

• Alla prossima → Until next time

• Con gratitudine → With gratitude

• Con amicizia → With friendship

Other Phrases

• torna presto → come back soon

  Thanks for reading Fischer Kitchen by Linda! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

I’m thrilled to share our first recipe with you! And top of the list, even before the ingredients, I wanted to show you what’s in this granola nut bar because that’s what I care about when I choose a snack. They’re healthy to eat and better than many you can find in the store. Where to start then? The nutrition label.

Nutrifox.com generated this label based on the ingredients for our granola nut bar recipe. You may find that other calculators generate different results. That’s not unusual to happen because rounding can be different in various nutrition databases, especially with ingredients like dates, nut butters, and powders.

Another resource for understanding what’s in food is Food Data Central, which is on the USDA website. There, you can search for ingredients and see the carbs, minerals, vitamins, and other components.

Either way, I have tried my best to show you what I care about, which is the nutritional content of our recipes. I hope this helps in choosing what to spend your time on cooking in the kitchen!

These lightly sweetened pomegranate granola nut bars are nutrient-dense, combining oats, nuts, and date syrup with pomegranate powder for a flavorful, low-sugar snack.

Unlike many versions available in the store, they are packed with goodness and crunch. Our granola nut bar has no refined sweeteners. They are higher in fiber and protein than many store-bought bars and have much lower sodium. The nuts, seeds, and minimal saturated/trans fats mean we have better fat quality in these homemade bars.

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In the comparison chart below, we are more in calories than this particular store-bought one, but it is after all an energy bar. 100 calories will only take you so far. Our recipe is more nutrient-dense, meaning you’re getting fiber, protein, and healthy fats rather than empty carbs and added sugar.

What I like about our bars, aside from their nutritional content, is that they’re easy to grab and eat. I often find that one of them is more than enough for me to feel satisfied. And I think if you’re going to ask someone to make a recipe, it ought to be because you love it and make it in your kitchen. And that’s what’s going on here. We make these all the time.

For Toasting:

• ¾ cup old-fashioned oats

• ¼ cup chopped walnuts

• ¼ cup pistachios, roughly chopped

Wet Binding Mixture:

• 3 large egg whites

• 3 tbsp date syrup

• 1 tbsp cashew butter (for extra binding)

• ½ tsp vanilla extract

Dry Mix-Ins (added after toasting):

• ¼ cup almond flour

• ½ tsp cinnamon (or ¾ tsp for extra warmth)

• 1 tbsp pomegranate powder

• 4 tbsp chopped dates

• 1 tbsp wheat bran

• 1 tbsp shelled hemp seeds

• 1 tbsp chia seeds, soaked in 2 tbsp water for 5 minutes (adds binding and texture, this can be optional but I use the soaked chia seeds at the dry mix-in stage when I make them. It preserves texture, and avoids clumping in the wet mixture while still giving you the extra binding strength.)

Before it goes in oven:

• Sprinkle of nutmeg, if so desired

1. Prep the Oven: Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Line an 8x8-inch baking dish with parchment paper, leaving some overhang for easy removal.

2. Toast the Oats and Nuts: Spread the oats, walnuts, and pistachios on a baking sheet and toast in the preheated oven for 5-7 minutes, or until they’re lightly golden and fragrant. Let them cool slightly.

   

3. Mix the Wet Ingredients: In a large bowl, whisk together the egg whites, date syrup, cashew butter, and vanilla extract until smooth. Chef Laura Rios, who tested this recipe in her own kitchen, used a hand blender.

   

4. Combine Ingredients: Add the toasted oats, almond flour, cinnamon, pomegranate powder, soaked chia seeds (if using), and chopped dates as well as wheat bran and shelled hemp seeds to the wet mixture. Stir until fully combined.

   

5. Transfer to the Baking Dish: Pour the mixture into the prepared baking dish. I usually make it a round mound and then press it down firmly and evenly using my hands. Sprinkle a pinch of nutmeg on top.

   

6. Bake: Bake for 18-20 minutes, or until the edges are golden brown and the bars feel firm to the touch. Mine is the first one, Laura’s is the second in the images below.

   

   

7. Cool and Slice: Allow the bars to cool in the baking dish for about 15 minutes. Then, use the parchment overhang to lift them out, and transfer to a cutting board. Once fully cooled, cut into 8 bars, like Laura did. I often cut them to half the size, making 15 smaller ones.

Notes

Dear fellow Fischer Kitchenites,

Wishing you the very best health every day.

Love,

The Fischer Kitchen

🤗Enjoy!

This is the story behind our granola nut bar. Right after this, in my next post, you’ll find the recipe so you can make it yourself.

I have the deepest respect for chefs who create recipes. But I didn’t realize what a false sense of security recipes gave me: stories all perfectly lined up, handed down from grandmothers or mothers, the ingredients and instructions clear, neat, and easy. So, when I decided to make an energy bar, I thought, how hard could it be?

Very hard.

I was shooting for something healthy and satisfying, not a store-bought snack that looks healthy but isn’t at all. I don’t buy them generally. To me, they have too much added sugar. I try to avoid eating things with added sugar.

So when I decided to make my own snack, an energy bar, I tinkered quite a bit until I came up with something that held together, albeit a little hard. It was sturdy enough to pack in my bag for a summer trip to Italy last year. My friend Gianluca nibbled on these strange little dry biscuits. They had a decent flavor, but obviously needed work. When I got back, I reached out to Laura.

Enter Laura

Laura Rios is a classically trained chef who had worked with me at my book company Minted Prose. She’s warm, creative, and direct when it comes to food. Laura balanced her comments but let me know the truth, too.

“I liked the flavor of the cinnamon, maple syrup, and dates. But the bars were dense and chewy and not in a pleasant way.”

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Recipe Therapy

We dove in.
“There wasn’t enough moisture,” Laura said. “And too much wheat flour and not enough moisture. You need a clearer definition. What is this supposed to be?”

“An energy bar,” I said. “But not loaded with sugar.”

“Well, then give it structure,” she said. “Use almond flour. Add oats. Try applesauce. Use date syrup instead of sugar.”

The banter got quicker.

“Raisins?”

“Maybe, but they’re highly glycemic.”

“Dried blueberries?”

“Better, and look for the ones that have less sugar in them. Avocado oil is good, and so are flax seeds. I like pomegranate powder. They keep the fats healthy,” Laura said. “And add fiber.”

I said I want to use egg whites and not the yolk with them.

“I don’t want to spike people’s cholesterol.”

“Egg whites are fine. This thing just needs definition. It’s not bread. It’s not a nut bar. It needs to know what it is,” Laura said.

The Granola Nut Bar is Born

“I think the granola nut bar idea is good,” I said. “I’ll try to make it hearty, satisfying, crunchy but not too sweet.”

Laura reminded me: “if you’re working out, you need something that actually gives you energy. That means fat. Fiber. Protein. Salt. Not just an airy biscuit – remember that.”

We went through techniques of actually making it.

“Use coconut oil on your hands so the mix doesn’t stick when pressing it into a pan,” she said. “Or avocado oil. Or extra virgin olive oil if you want it savory—try rosemary, sumac.”

I got it: oats, almond flour, dates, pomegranate powder, flaxseed, hemp hearts, cinnamon, vanilla, egg whites, and a little date syrup. I liked all these ingredients for a snack that would be nourishing and satiating, and it would be a nut granola bar that would make sense to someone.

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The Verdict, 10 Months Later

Ten months after that kitchen table brainstorm, and many bars later, I handed the recipe to Laura to test. The verdict?

“They’re quite a tasty treat,” she wrote back. “I especially appreciate the wholesome ingredients.”

She even shared pictures of whisking egg and the bars sliced. “The texture is chewier, and I find that quite satisfying.”

Laura also mentioned that when she shared the bars with her kids they coated a few in a light glaze of chocolate. Laura had melted some semi-sweet chocolate chips and then added a bit of avocado oil to the melted chips to keep the chocolate glossy, soft, and pourable. Then her daughter lightly dipped her bar in the chocolate and topped it with a tiny sprinkle of Maldon salt.

“She really enjoyed it,” Laura said.

We both agreed: these bars were finally good to go. Read our next post for the recipe.

Meanwhile, our Italian friend Gianluca will get something better when Phil and I meet him in Catania, Sicily this year. I am sure we will have many food adventures, but Gianluca will be happy to try these granola nut bars versus last summer’s hard biscuits!

I went to the San Diego Zoo hoping to see koalas, red pandas, giant pandas, polar bears, and tigers. I was all in just to have a great time with that. But it turned out food was not far behind.

Early in the tour, LJ, my guide, pulled out a small flip-book of cards. Each card highlighted a different way to support wildlife, and many were related to food. These ideas fit right into the spirit of Fischer Kitchen.

Sustainability in a Pocket-Sized Deck

1. Forest Stewardship Council (FSC): That little tree logo on packaging means the product is responsibly sourced. So, if you buy coffee cups, cereal boxes, or tissues, you know they were made with the forest in mind.

2. Shade-Grown, Bird-Friendly Foods: This one surprised me. It’s about how your coffee and tea are grown. Bird-friendly means these products consider the birds’ habitat. So, shaded trees could be a bird habitat, and the coffee is grown under them. Migratory birds rely on these shaded farms during winter, so your morning cup can literally help keep them alive. Interested in buying bird-friendly coffee? The Smithsonian’s National Zoo & Conservation Biology Institute has links to do just that.

3. Sustainable Seafood: Monterey Bay Aquarium’s Seafood Watch and the MSC (Marine Stewardship Council) logo helps you make good choices. When you see this, you know you are getting responsibly caught or farmed fish. Green means best choice, yellow is a good alternative, red means avoid.

4. Palm Oil Awareness: Palm oil production is linked to deforestation. When there is deforestation, the orangutans who live in the branches lose their home. But it’s not as simple as an orangutan losing a home. Deforestation can adversely impact the climate and ecosystem. Here is a photo from a previous trip to Borneo, where you can see the clear-cutting and the palm trees set replacing the forest.

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During my trip to Borneo, I met Mawi at the Tabin Resort, one of the places we stayed. Mawi and his friends won a prize at the Borneo Bird Festival and he can spot wildlife from very far away, including this content male orangutan in the tree.

And here’s a female orangutan from the Sepilok Orangutan Rehabilitation Centre where about 60 to 80 orangutans are in a rainforest reserve. I took this photo and thought she looked comfortable in her home, munching on some fruit.

What can we do to help the orangutans? The Palm Oil Scan Mobile app helps identify responsibly sourced options (this is on my phone, let it be on yours!). Palm oil shows up in snacks and many everyday products. If we choose sustainable options, we’re helping keep the forests standing, orangutans safe, and the climate and air clean.

5. Plant Native: Supporting pollinators and local habitats can be as simple as planting what naturally grows in your region.

6. Rainforest Alliance: The frog logo signals products that protect both ecosystems and farming communities. This helps figure out which farms help the land, don’t use so many pesticides, are fair to workers, and help against climate change. These factors impact the foods we buy in the grocery store. Look for the frog!

These practical reminders touch foods we know well, like coffee, chocolate, and fish, as well as even packaging. Everything connects back to the health of the planet.

A few quick facts about the San Diego Zoo

The San Diego Zoo is more than a place to see wildlife. LJ gave me some quick facts:

1. The zoo opened in 1916 and has grown into a conservation leader.

2. It spans about 100 acres and is also a certified botanical garden.

Today it cares for over 12,000 animals representing 650+ species.

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Animal Encounters with Food at the Center

Feeding animals was part of my visit, and their diets were as memorable as the encounters themselves. The zoo has a “choice and control” policy, which means if an animal doesn’t want to come out, another one gets the chance.

Azan (aardvark): I fed Azan using a tube filled with toasted worms. Azan’s long tongue got the worms out quickly. I was so fixated on getting the tube in just the right direction and petting him, the only time he’d probably let me, that I didn’t realize how awkward I looked with a loose belt!

Chifu (giraffe): Gentle and deliberate, Chifu took the lettuce and biscuits with surprising grace. In fact, when LJ asked me to turn for a photo, so did Chifu - smart giraffe! Look for that in the video! I wanted to touch Chifu, but LJ wisely said, “Don’t touch him. Just let him take the lettuce with his tongue.”

Karima (camel): Another fellow lettuce fan, though a bit more enthusiastic. Hand flat, lettuce up, and Karima knew precisely what to do. When I was done, LJ said to hold up my hands with my palms facing Karima to show that I had nothing more. With that, Karima turned and found something else to do.

Mpenzi (African pygmy falcon): Fed small pieces of raw mouse, Mpenzi’s menu of choice demonstrated how varied food chains can be. I loved this little bird. It looked so intelligent. I felt Mpenzi could give any big falcon a run for its money. Such determined eyes and sharp claws! The smallest and favorite creature of the day!

These moments made the idea of “what we eat” feel much broader, stretching across species, ecosystems, and habits. Fortunately, though, we can be spared dead mice as a delicacy. Let’s leave that to the birds.

A Takeaway for Fischer Kitchen

This was my first time serving up lettuce by hand to be carefully snatched by a creature way larger than me. But I saw how food ties us together. Every choice we make, whether it’s what we buy, how it’s packaged, farmed, fished, or planted, ripples through farms, ecosystems, and communities. The zoo’s flip cards were a simple yet powerful reminder of that.

My recent business trip to San Diego turned into something more than networking, keynotes, and sessions about AI and ChatGPT. It became a food adventure.

Business travel usually tempts you to grab whatever is fast and nearby, but that’s never been my style. Before I even left, I fretted about how I would eat. I wanted to pack my kitchen with me, but the best I could manage were a few homemade granola nut bars and some nuts. The rest I would have to improvise.

You might wonder why worry. San Diego is full of great restaurants. True, but no matter where I travel, meals often feel more elaborate than what I make in the Fischer Kitchen: too many sauces, too much salt, too many extras. That includes my own hometown of New York City.

My preference is to find the best ingredients, prepare them simply, and let the food shine.

Since I’d be in San Diego for over a week, I set a rule for myself: each meal needed to include a vegetable, a protein, a healthy fat, and a carbohydrate. No processed foods, of course. With that, I leaned into the adventure: exploration, discovery, challenge, risk, and finally, immersion.

Exploration

I arrived Monday with the afternoon free to plan a bite out after the welcome reception. I’d read about Rustic Root, so the concierge booked me a table.

The menu felt like many in my NYC neighborhood, but I was after an experience.

So I set off through the Gaslamp Quarter, past bars, restaurants, and locals out for the night. Using my ChatGPT app as a guide, I aimed for a Mediterranean spot called Callie. Along the way I met a young couple from Chicago who moved to San Diego. He worked in real estate, she in banking, and he insisted I try an Italian place called Decore.

My heart was set on Callie, but when we arrived it was closed.

“Now you have to try Decore,” he said, explaining he’d eaten there seven nights in a row when he first moved to San Diego. It was late, so I agreed.

The focaccia was delicious, though different from the recipe Francesca, my friend in Rome, had given me, and the salmon was excellent. I also tried their Caesar salad, a favorite of mine.

Still, Decore was a discovery, and now I have a good go-to Italian spot when I come back. Who knows, maybe I’ll one day go there seven nights in a row too.

Discovery

During a session on AI’s potential, a woman from the travel industry raised her hand. With a thick Russian accent, she asked if Google and ChatGPT could both list the same restaurant as number one in San Diego.

Pressed for context, she explained: a cab driver had recommended a restaurant. She Googled it, and then saw it top-ranked on ChatGPT. She was convinced Siri had been eavesdropping.

The instructor smiled, launched into a comment about our interconnected world, and called for a short break.

I leaned over and asked, “What’s the name of the place?”

“Pomegranate,” she said. “The cab driver told me, then I Googled it. Russian food is the best. This one is Georgian-Russian.” Later, when the session was over, I jumped into a Lyft. Not knowing San Diego’s streets, I second-guessed the driver the whole way.

Finally, we pulled up to what looked like a gentrified urban area with the Pomegranate restaurant wedged between Gilly’s House of Cocktails and Flavors of East Africa. Diners lingered at their tables outside under a bold sign.

Perfect, I thought.

Starving, I ordered roasted eggplant salsa, chicken dumplings, a bowl of borscht (I’d never had this, even when I visited Russia many years ago), and the Babushka’s Surprise (the answer is later in this story, let this one be a surprise for you too). That’s what happens when you’re alone: you order as if someone else is coming.

This was the eggplant. I skipped the sour cream on the side.

My someone, Phil, was home writing his book on AI and recovering from surgery. Well, I thought, he might as well join me virtually. Thank goodness for FaceTime. This is what 22 years of marriage gets you: a spouse who answers your umpteenth call with a smile, even when you’re eating out without him.

When everything arrived, he said, “Enjoy the meal and call me back. And somebody left you a message on the wall.”

The dumplings melted in my mouth, and the borscht brimmed with tender beef and vegetables. It was rich, comforting, almost too much. One bowl would last me a year.

Here the sour cream added to it melting in my mouth. They were a splurge!

Halfway through this wonderful meal, another conference attendee appeared. We swapped stories, enjoyed the food, and brought Phil back for a parting good wish. Then it was time to go. He had to catch a flight home, and I needed to head back to the hotel.

That night reminded me that meals are rarely just about food. They’re about interesting people, stories, chance learning and sometimes a leap of faith in a Lyft to an unfamiliar street.

Challenge

Not all was smooth sailing when it came to food. I wasn’t sure how I’d survive eating out nonstop, since I was staying on for a few days after the conference to tour in San Diego and on Coronado Island.

I don’t eat out often at home, and I didn’t want to start here. The hotel’s convenience shop, Market & Supply, didn’t help. More than half the shelves were filled with processed foods. All I could think was no.

Articles warning about ultraprocessed foods seem endless these days. I skip the noise and the processed food wherever I can and stick to what works for me: eat real food, keep things in moderation, and take a walk. Simple choices, but they add up.

But I didn’t find the selection very inspiring. I even mentioned to the staff that an update could help. There were a few decent options, like oatmeal and some prepared meals with dressings on the side, but overall it was limited and probably not something the staff could change anyway.

Later, when I stopped in for a banana, I saw a mom buying Lucky Charms for her child, and it struck me that there just weren’t many better alternatives available.

That was it. I went upstairs, logged on, added the Hilton San Diego Bayfront address, and placed a Whole Foods order. The hotel was very accommodating, even sending up a small refrigerator.

Soon I had lettuce, tomatoes, hummus, salmon, dairy-free yogurt, and turkey sandwiches on multigrain bread. Even in a hotel room, you can create a bit of home with an Amazon account.

All set.

Risk / Uncertainty

Or so I thought.

On my first tourist day, after cruising along the bay, marveling at the bridge and the Navy’s massive ships, lunch was in order.

From the boat I had spotted The Fish Market, so I strolled over, passing the statue of the sailor and nurse locked in their famous WWII kiss. Peace in San Diego, no worries, just lunch ahead.

But at the door, a sign gave me pause:

“Certain foods and beverages sold or served here can expose you to chemicals including acrylamide in many fried or baked foods, and mercury in fish; receipt paper may contain Bisphenol S (BPS). These chemicals are known to the State of California to cause cancer, birth defects, or other reproductive harm.”

Not exactly an appetizing welcome. I almost turned around, but not knowing what else was nearby, I went in.

After some back-and-forth with the waitress, we both agreed that most fish today contain some mercury and some microplastics (depending on many factors). Ultimately, I landed on a Caesar salad with chicken, and it was delicious. And again, there it was: my default order.

From there, I wandered through the Midway, the retired aircraft carrier, wondering how they managed to feed thousands of meals to the crew every day. I explored the inside for a few hours until I was worn out, then headed up to the flight deck to rest for a bit.

I dozed on a bench and woke up with a nasty burn across my face - cherub cheeks like Santa (ack! I typically avoid the sun like the plague). Not great, especially since I’d left my hat behind at Pomegranate.

Immersion

I bought another hat but didn’t need it right away. Dinner at Callie meant quick Lyft hops and no sun exposure, at least I hoped so.

By now I was starting to understand San Diego a bit better. I wasn’t sure if I was a Padres fan yet, but I felt fully immersed in my own food scene unfolding night after night.

When Callie came up on my list, I was excited. The menu was eclectic, and like at Pomegranate, Phil joined virtually for part of the meal. I wished he could have been there in person to taste dishes like smoky babaghanoush with pita, grilled summer beans with Meyer lemon, and Mediterranean octopus with roasted garlic.

I got to chatting with the waiter, who offered to bring over the chef. Donning his apron, Chef Travis Swikard stopped by and explained that freshness and high quality are literally in his backyard in San Diego.

The proof was in the tomatoes: soft, luscious, and without bitterness. He said he handpicks them, along with watermelon, to ensure every plate is exceptional. His involvement in every detail showed.

His philosophy is simple: start with excellent ingredients, and the food speaks for itself. Music to my ears. That’s exactly what I strive for, though I know my results are nowhere near those of a trained chef. Still, caring about quality is something we can all do.

I left impressed. And I’m not the only one. Callie is listed in the Michelin Guide under the Bib Gourmand category, which highlights restaurants offering high-quality food at a good value.

From there I headed to Coronado Island and the Hotel Del Coronado, famous for hosting dignitaries and for its starring role in Some Like It Hot with Marilyn Monroe. Known simply as ‘The Del,’ this wooden Victorian beach resort opened in 1888 and is now a National Historic Landmark

I could have spent hours learning more about the place, but my focus was the beach, the pool and food with some work sprinkled in between (that trails me wherever I go!). The restaurants offered everything from intricate, tempting meals with maybe more calories than I wanted, to lighter fare.

In the end, the Ocean Club perfectly fit my style for its laid back atmosphere. And, like the other restaurants on the property, they were happy to accommodate all my requests for dressings and sauces on the side, so I could enjoy a Caesar salad and chicken paillard just the way I’d like them at home.

I had to laugh. By then, Caesar salad wasn’t just a “safe harbor” dish, it was anchoring me meal to meal across the city.

And not to forget the Babuska’s Surprise from Pomegranate - that was an apple stuffed with dried apricot, plum, and honey, baked until soft, with a small melting scoop of ice cream on the side. This one I’m going to make at home, minus the ice cream.

What I learned

In the end, the meals reminded me that with a little care and curiosity, eating well can travel well. So did my original hat, which I picked up after the private tour at the San Diego Zoo where, to my surprise, food turned out to be a highly relevant topic too. More on that in a future Fischer Kitchen article.

Whether it was borscht in a hidden spot, Caesar salad as a steady anchor, or a chef’s tomatoes picked that morning, the lesson that bubbled up for me on my San Diego food adventure was clear: when quality leads the way, great meals become memories and health follows close behind.

The other day, I was walking down the street when I stopped dead in my tracks, literally, after spotting a McDonald’s ad with three drinks alongside the hashtag #DrinkGoals. The lineup: Frozen Fanta® Blue Raspberry, Frozen Coca-Cola® Classic, and a Strawberry Banana Smoothie.

My first thought? That’s ridiculous. Those can’t be drink goals. I pulled out my iPhone and took a picture to show it to my husband, Phil so that we could debate it over dinner.

A few days later, an article in The Wall Street Journal caught my eye about LA going crazy for a $33 smoothie. Once again, my eyebrows went up. Both examples made me wonder, how much of this is marketing hype, and how much is truly health-related?

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The Best Guidance We Have

My future olive oil article for the Fischer Kitchen would have to wait because beverages turned out to be a surprisingly deep topic, both complex and straightforward. The best baseline advice comes from the Dietary Guidelines for Americans, which recommend[1]:

• Water as the foundation, calorie-free and hydrating.

• Fat-free and low-fat milk and 100% fruit juice for beneficial nutrients.

• Coffee, tea, and flavored waters as options provided they have little to no added sweeteners or cream.

This advice might sound familiar, like something your parents told you, but where the guidelines come alive is in the data, especially regarding added sugars. They are the “sneaky sugar” found in so many of the foods we buy without a second thought.

Beverages in a Healthy Diet

A healthy dietary pattern limits foods and beverages high in added sugars, saturated fat, and sodium, while cutting back on alcohol.[2]

Here’s the math[3]:

• 85% of your daily calories should come from nutrient-dense foods like vegetables, fruits, grains, dairy, and proteins (including fish).

• The remaining 15% can be for extras, including added sugars and saturated fats.

• Less than 10% of daily calories should be from added sugars.[4]

Pro Tip: You can spot your added sugar intake just by checking the nutrition label.[5] That’s a simple, quick win for anyone in the U.S. Turn the product around in the grocery store and read the label!

Source: https://www.fda.gov/food/nutrition-education-resources-materials/nutrition-facts-label

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How We as Americans Actually Stack Up

According to the guidelines, the average American consumes ~270 calories/day (over 13% of total calories) from added sugars.[6] So we are already over the 10% guideline - yikes!

Top sources:

• Sugar-sweetened beverages

• Sweet snacks

• Sweetened coffee/tea drinks

• Candy

These account for more than 50% of all added sugar intake yet they don’t contribute much to essential nutrient needs.[7]

Pro Tip: If you like sugary drinks, you don’t have to quit cold turkey. Being an extremist usually it doesn’t help. You might hold back from it once, but then go all in on it later. So everything in moderation, as they say, which you’ve probably heard a gazillion times before, but is still such a helpful thing. You can:

• Drink smaller portions

• Look for lower-sugar alternatives

• Make it an occasional treat

The Sugar-Sweetened Beverage Breakdown

Sugar-sweetened beverages (soft drinks, energy drinks, fruit drinks, sweetened coffees/teas) make up over 40% of daily added sugar intake.[8]

A few examples from the Guidelines’ tables[9]:

• Plain water, unsweetened tea – 0 calories, 0 added sugar.

• Sports drink – 97 calories, 5 teaspoons added sugar.

• Fruit drink – 238 calories, 14 teaspoons added sugar.

• Café mocha – 290 calories, 5 teaspoons added sugar.

Soft drinks alone make up 16% of added sugar intake.[10] The takeaway: sugar-sweetened beverages are everywhere, inexpensive, and easy to access. Choose wisely. Read the label.

Why Transparency Matters

McDonald’s gets points here. They publish detailed nutrition information on their food and drinks. I checked their Frozen Fanta® Blue Raspberry, Frozen Coca-Cola® Classic, and Strawberry Banana Smoothie in small, medium, and large sizes. They were $2 each for the small size in the ad I saw.

The winner? My analysis identified the Strawberry Banana Smoothie. It’s still high in sugar (some naturally from fruit), but possibly fine if your day’s food already has enough protein, fiber, and vegetables.

Transparency empowers consumers. While I’m no fan of McDonald’s fried foods, their nutrition disclosure sets a good example. It makes me trust the Golden Arches more than those who don’t list the ingredients. And in some situations, especially when traveling, McDonald’s might be the only option you trust for accurate information.

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Erewhon: The Other End of the Spectrum

Erewhon, famous for celebrity-endorsed $20+ smoothies, provides ingredient lists but no nutrition labels. That struck me as odd, especially given their mission to promote organic, ethically sourced foods. Why not give people a nutrition label? Without calorie, fat, or sugar data, it’s hard to know where their drinks fit into a healthy diet.

People who drink their smoothies were quoted in the Wall Street Journal.[11] One user likened Erewhon's grocery store to Hermès and the smoothie to the Birkin bag, noting that the premium ingredients justify the cost.

This comparison shows how a smoothie has become a luxury status symbol because of its nutritional value. When drinks become fashion accessories, their social significance rises in importance. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s good to recognize that another form of marketing is at work here, and it’s targeted at you.

Another user said that drinking an Erewhon smoothie provides the nutrients and vitamins upfront. Maybe it does, but how do you know that without a nutrition label?

A dietitian writing for PopSugar helped solve some of the mystery by ranking Erewhon’s smoothies for satiety, nutrition, trendiness, and appearance. Her winner: the Coconut Cloud Smoothie, edging out Hailey Bieber’s “Strawberry Glaze Skin Smoothie” at #7.[12]

In the Fischer Kitchen, Phil and I made a carrot cake smoothie following the recipe on the back of the bag of organic shredded carrots from Whole Foods. Phil gave it a thumbs up and called it a “guilt-free” drink.

Final Sip

Beverages go beyond just hydration. They reflect culture, personal taste, and the situation. Whether you spend $2 on a McDonald’s Smoothie or $33 on an Erewhon creation, understanding what you’re getting and why can make a difference.

Marketing is always around us, just like when I walk down the street. But with nutrition labels and knowledge of dietary guidelines, we can make good choices. Maybe we'll still follow the latest trends, but we should also remember that taking care of yourself is its own kind of cool.

Me, one of these days I’m going to drop into McDonald’s for the unsweetened tea. It will be my first time in there in a long while.

Footnotes

[1] U.S. Department of Agriculture and U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. Dietary Guidelines for Americans, 2020–2025. 9th Edition. December 2020. Available at: https://www.DietaryGuidelines.gov, p. 35.

[2] Ibid, p. 49.

[3] Ibid, p. 37.

[4] Ibid, p. 41.

[5] https://www.fda.gov/food/nutrition-education-resources-materials/nutrition-facts-label

[6] U.S. Department of Agriculture and U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. Dietary Guidelines for Americans, 2020–2025. 9th Edition. December 2020. Available at: https://www.DietaryGuidelines.gov, , 42.

[7] Ibid, p. 42.

[8] Ibid, p. 103.

[9] Ibid, p. 36.

[10] Ibid., p. 43.

[11] https://www.wsj.com/arts-culture/food-cooking/smoothie-erewhon-sunlife-organics-hailey-bieber-0a9d0ac6?st=PWGXCx&reflink=desktopwebshare_permalink

[12] https://www.popsugar.com/nutrition/best-erewhon-smoothies-49368588

Ever since I wrote the original Condiment Challenge, I’ve been fixated on the side door of the refrigerator where we keep bottled dressings and other condiments. It’s the spot my eyes continued to be immediately drawn to when I opened the refrigerator door because I still wasn’t certain I had excised all the junk, though I tried mightily.

A couple of salad dressings remained, and I wasn’t entirely convinced they were the best we could do. Phil, meanwhile, was happy that he still had at least two dressings left after clearing out old, expired, or unhealthy condiments.

But the salad dressing issue continued to nag me. Once I started researching this topic for the article, I realized that salad dressings aren’t always the healthiest option to eat. It truly depended on what I picked up in the store and how much we were using of it.

Many, though not all, store-bought dressings have confusing labels, such as “light” or “fat-free,” but upon closer inspection, I sometimes found high-fructose corn syrup hiding inside. Some creamy dressings used mayonnaise, cheese, or sour cream as a base, which, when combined with saturated and trans fats, are not exactly cholesterol-friendly or heart-healthy.

Salt content could be another concern in dressings. Excessive sodium intake can impact your blood pressure and cardiovascular health. Additives and preservatives help extend shelf life and improve texture, but they have been linked to stomach and gut issues.

These concerns should not lead you or me to think all salad dressings should be tossed out. It’s just that it’s not always clear which ones are good. And there are definitely a few good ones to be found.

Still, why was I still buying them so easily? Why do any of us? There are rows and rows of them at the store. When I walked through Whole Foods the other day, I saw how easy it would be just to grab one.

The truth is people like salad dressings. Phil likes some of them, even though I’m not a fan. They’re convenient, they’re always in the kitchen, they’re familiar, and what you don’t know won’t hurt you at least not right away. And the marketing, including the packaging and the buzzwords, is so appealing that it just feels like it must be okay.

What to do if you have dressings

Again, I'm not saying all salad dressings are bad, but you need to look carefully at them, and that’s a big part of what the Fischer Kitchen is about. I’m paying more attention these days, and I encourage you to do the same. You don’t have to obsess, but you do need to care. It’s a small step, and it’s worth taking.

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So, if you have salad dressings in your fridge, here’s what I think:

• If you think it’s good, still be careful about how much you actually use. More often than not, Phil pours the dressing and ends up with a quarter of the bottle on his plate. At that point, why bother eating the salad? “It’s totally wrecked,” I said. I urged him to try a tablespoon instead because it’s easier to control. Now he takes that route.

• If you’re unsure it’s good, check the side of the bottle and read the ingredients. The nutrition label is one of the best tools we have as consumers. It gives us at least some idea of what’s really inside. We should care about this for ourselves, for the people we love, and for those we want to be around for a long time.

• If you have a favorite you’ll never give up, no matter what’s in it, then just aim for some balance and moderation. Use a tablespoon to measure! But again, that part’s truly up to you.

Time to pivot

And finally consider making dressings yourself. I never used to, but now that we’re running low on the last store-bought salad dressing, I don’t plan to buy more unless it’s necessary. We can manage just fine with oil and vinegar, as well as a few homemade experiments.

My latest inspiration came from an unexpected source. In a previous post, I mentioned attending the Women in Hospitality conference at Google’s New York headquarters, where every attendee received a copy of Come Hungry: Salads, Meals, and Sweets for People Who Live to Eat by Melissa Ben-Ishay. She’s the CEO of Baked by Melissa, and although I’ve never tried one of her tiny cupcakes (I don’t eat sweets often, though you will find me nip off a corner for a taste), I’ve passed her store countless times in Lower Manhattan.

Melissa Ben-Ishay (seated left) being interviewed by Anna Mandelbaum, S. Pellegrino Gastronomy Partnerships, National Manager

But her cookbook, my goodness, I love it. Everything looks healthy, real, and easy to prepare. She even has a whole section on dressings and vinaigrettes. With a bit of help from the computer, they were evaluated and ranked based on calories, fat, sugar, and sodium, each receiving a custom score.

Each dressing also got a dietary focus name: Low Sodium Hero, Sugar-Free Only, General or Keto-Friendly. Finally, there was a column noting the keys to the dietary focus. I don’t expect everyone to do this, but I think you can see how far down the rabbit hole I went. As that’s because as we age, I genuinely believe we need to pay even more attention to what we choose to eat.

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It doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy something sweet now and then. It doesn’t mean you have to give up a favorite recipe that includes sugar, salt, or fat. But it does mean being mindful of how much you eat. You’ll know what’s best for you.

Once the recipes were scored, I handed the spreadsheet to Phil. First up: Green Goddess: 33.8 calories, 3.3 g fat, no sugar, 130.8 mg sodium. It’s a vinaigrette. The custom score, our balance of calories, fat, sugar, and sodium? 40.67.

It’s officially 'low-sodium' by FDA standards—that would be 140 mg or less per serving, so it earned our title of a Low-Sodium Hero. It also scored highly for heart health and anti-bloat benefits.

We followed the recipe, adding basil, spinach, cloves, shallots, extra virgin olive oil, nuts (we used unsalted cashews), nutritional yeast, sea salt, rice vinegar, chives, and lemons. We slightly messed up on the lemon. The recipe called for the juice of two lemons. Phil squeezed those, and without double-checking, I poured them into the food processor. In parentheses, it said next to two lemons: (about 1/3 cup).

“We put in too much lemon,” I said.

“Don’t worry about it. We got the rest of the ingredients right. Even if it tastes a bit lemony, I’ll be okay with it,” Phil said.

A taste test confirmed we had indeed made a good Green Goddess dressing, despite using too much lemon. I compared it to a store-bought version of Green Goddess dressing.

Our version was robust and flavorful; the store-bought one was thinner and had more tang than our homemade version, even with the extra lemon.

Try you own dressing challenge

You might enjoy doing your own dressing challenge at home. Many store-bought options can be replaced by good recipes like the one I made. That way, you can avoid ultra-processed ingredients, refined oils, added sugars and sodium, and the saturated fats that show up in creamy varieties, not to mention artificial additives and preservatives.

If you make it yourself, you also skip all the marketing on the front of the bottle. Terms like “organic,” “fat-free,” “healthy” sound great but might be misleading, depending on the actual ingredients. Flip it over and you might find sugar, artificial sweeteners, and seed oils that may not align with your goals, depending on what matters to you.

I completely understand if my fixation on salad dressings sounds extreme. The ones at the store are tasty, convenient, and they last a long time. I won’t deny that.

But if you’re going to buy one, I’d suggest stopping for a moment, turning the bottle around, and reading the label. Choose the best brands you can find, many of which can include extra virgin olive oil, avocado oil, or yogurt-based options. These are generally better bets than the sugary and fatty-loaded kinds.

Since this is a complex topic, I wanted to share a link for you to check out as you form your own opinion. I’d love to hear your perspective. Take a minute to answer the poll and let me know!

Oh, and Phil? He’s going to be just fine with homemade dressing because that’s what he’s got. He’s quickly warming up to the new normal, replacing regular dressings with homemade salad dressing each week, because it tastes fresher than store-bought ones.

“Using the right dressing or no dressing might only have a marginal effect on lifespan or it might not. But it’s a commitment to the larger goal of health and healthspan,” he said.

That’s the spirit!

Heading toward the big “30” in a few years (only kidding, he’s got more than a few years on that, me too!), he’s right. We’re aiming for 100, one homemade dressing at a time with a thinned out selection on the side of the refrigerator door.

Have you ever picked up a food product in a store out of curiosity, only to realize over the years how good it was? That was my journey with sumac, a tangy red spice that energizes almost any dish.

Several years ago, I bought a jar of Sohha Savory Sumac Red Dry and kept it in the spice drawer. On occasion we had help in the kitchen and our friend noticed it.

“This is great. I didn’t know you had it,” she said. “I use this all the time.”

Since then, I’ve never been without Sohha Savory Sumac. I’ve tried other versions, but I felt the zing from this one worked for me. Everyone has their preference. I even added another variety, Sohha’s Za’atar Sumac, to the lazy Susan in my kitchen, which I spin when finishing a meal.

In a NYC galley kitchen, that lazy Susan is prime real estate. Only the most-used items live there, and Sohha Savory’s sumacs have earned their place. I sprinkle them on vegetables, chicken, fish, turkey, eggs, and salad. With a drizzle of olive oil, they’re so flavorful I rarely need salt.

Years after that first jar, I still find Sohha Savory in stores.

This year, I attended a startup event featuring food companies. And there was Sohha Savory! Behind the table stood the owner, Angela Mualem Fout, an energetic woman with red hair. She had no idea I was one of her biggest fans. I bought some more sumac before I left to make sure I had a stash in the kitchen.

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The Mountains in Lebanon
Angela grew up in Beirut, near the American University, but her family had a house in the mountains in Houmal, where they spent weekends and summers. They still go. The property has za’atar, sumac, olive, and carob trees.

She moved to the U.S. at the age of 13 but continued to visit Lebanon.

“Olives, olive oil, sumac, za’atar, carob molasses, tahini, and maybe a jar of homemade jam. That’s basically your kitchen table in Lebanon.”

Angela recalled picking olives with her mom.

“You have to know which olives go in which pile, for soap, oil, or to eat.”

Her mother also taught her to cook and garden. They had 60 rose bushes and grew vegetables.

“I didn’t grow up in a house where food came from the store,” Angela said. “We picked it, watered it, and weeded the garden daily. It’s in my blood.”

Hearing her story reminded me of my own mother who likely knew I wasn’t paying much attention in the kitchen growing up. I probably should have.

A Rapid Ascent
Angela was an adjunct professor from 2004 to 2013. She loved to cook and often brought food to share. Before she was married, she dreamed of opening a hummus shop in Harlem.

When her husband lost his job in 2011, she began catering for her department at LaGuardia Community College to help pay the bills. Positive feedback gave her confidence. Around this time, they considered launching a food business on the side.

In April 2013, they started Sohha Savory from a kitchen in Sunset Park, Brooklyn. With a toddler in tow, Angela made labneh yogurt from her mom’s Lebanese family recipe. She hired students to help.

By May, they won the SlowMoneyNYC Pitch Competition. In June, they were in Brooklyn farmers’ markets. In August, their first store placement: Green Grape. By October, Sohha Savory opened in Chelsea Market.

The shop sold parfaits with local honey and yogurt, made from Hudson Valley milk, with toppings like za’atar and everything bagel seasoning. “Americans already knew everything bagel,” she said, “which made it easier to introduce savory yogurt.”

Customer demand for seasonings surprised her.

“We were the first ever to package za’atar sumac in a mason jar,” she said.

“At the shop, you could also get baba ghanouj, hummus, fruits, veggies, pita wraps and salad. Everything was fresh. No sugar, no preservatives, no thickeners,” she said.

In March 2014, New York Magazine named Sohha Savory “best yogurt.” Soon, they were in Whole Foods from Washington, D.C. to Maine. The New York Times and Wall Street Journal featured them.

“I’d be cooking at 3 a.m.,” Angela said. She stopped teaching and opened a larger kitchen in the Bronx. Sohha Savory was in a dozen markets weekly, with no marketing campaign.

“We created the Everything Bagel seasoning category,” she said. “No one had it as a seasoning.”

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Life Happens
After her marriage ended in 2017, Angela shut down operations and moved to New Jersey with her daughter. She focused on baba ghanouj, dry sumac, za’atar sumac, and everything bagel seasoning, bootstrapping again in a commissary kitchen in Trenton.

By December 2018, her products had returned to Whole Foods. And I found them there recently myself.

“I make everything. I deliver, too,” Angela said. She handles distribution for Whole Foods and ships nationwide. Sohha Savory is now available at Whole Foods, Morton Williams, Union Market, FreshDirect, and online.

Entrepreneurs like Angela are why we have thoughtfully made foods on shelves. She’s rooted in heritage, clean ingredients, and purpose.

If you see Sohha Savory’s baba ghanouj or sumac, it’s a pretty good sign the store knows what it’s doing. She’s a woman-owned business too – we need more of those. And look at how her daughter has grown, an entrepreneur in the making!

Photo credit: All Photography with the exception of the Fischer Kitchen lazy Susan provided by Sohha Savory, including those taken by Christina Holmes Photography.

While the Fischer Kitchen usually brings you thoughts from my table, today’s article is a special contribution from our summer intern, Harper Goodman. She’s passionate about health and has her sights set on becoming a dentist. She’s going into her last year of college at the University of Miami, and we’re glad to share her thoughts on research about the link between oral health and cancer.

If you're anything like me, you probably grew up hearing all the reasons why soda is bad for your teeth. My parents were extremely interested in health. On top of that, my dad also happens to be a dentist, so I was regularly immersed in health discussions.

I spent many a day working with him in his office during high school. I watched him remind patients to cut back on sugary drinks. He'd always tell me the same thing: "Soda ruins your teeth—don't drink it." I thought he was just being dramatic. But he wasn’t; those drinks really cause a lot of damage. And now, recent medical research more than validates his view.

A study published in JAMA Otolaryngology–Head & Neck Surgery found that drinking sugar-sweetened beverages daily was associated with an increased risk of developing oral cavity cancer.

The results were strongest in women. The study was mammoth, with more than 160,000 people participating in the long-running Nurses' Health Study and Nurses' Health Study II. These studies followed participants’ beverage habits, lifestyle choices, and health outcomes over nearly 30 years.

The research was important. Oral cavity cancer has been rising in younger adults who don't smoke, especially women.

In the study, sugar-sweetened beverages included regular soda (both caffeinated and caffeine-free), sweetened teas, lemonades, and other non-diet drinks with added sugars. They are the kind of beverages many people reach for daily, often without a second thought.

The investigators knew that those who smoked and drank alcohol experienced higher cancer rates. That was confirmed in the study. But they had a problem: those who didn’t drink heavily or smoke also had rising cancer rates. In fact, the control group had more cancer than those with the bad habits.

They were missing a variable. They found it in sugar. Women who had good habits otherwise but drank sugary drinks had much higher chances of developing cancer.

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This connection doesn't surprise me when I reflect on my time working at the dental office. I watched patients come in with severe cavities, gum disease, or visible enamel erosion, many of them young. One of the common factors? Diet. Many admitted to drinking soda or sweetened iced tea daily and having a high-sugar diet. My dad would explain that these drinks coat your teeth in sugar, feeding bacteria and making it easier for decay to spread. But we weren't thinking about cancer, just cavities.

Now, with this research, it's not just about tooth decay anymore. It's a potential cancer risk. That doesn't mean a soda here and there will cause cancer. Overall, the risk of developing oral cavity cancer is still low, even for those who drink sugar-sweetened beverages regularly. But the link is real, and when you add it to the already long list of health risks associated with excess sugar (like obesity, diabetes, and heart disease), it's worth thinking twice before making that daily soda a staple in your diet.

There are many alternatives now. Sparkling water with lime, unsweetened iced tea, or fruit-infused water can satisfy cravings without the sugar overload. Once you get used to it, you won’t miss soda that much.

So, my dad was right all along. It's not just about saving your smile; it could be about protecting your health in a much bigger way—and for the long term. And if that means skipping the sugary soda at lunch, I'm okay with that.

As a consultant, I attend many conferences and events. Because I also write this food blog, I often find myself fascinated by what’s being served. We’ve all been there: rushing to an event without time for dinner, trusting the meal will be enough. Sometimes it’s surprisingly good, or at least acceptable. However, there are times when it’s just trays of fried, sugary, and fatty small bites that offer no real nutritional value.

Those small bites may contain real food, but they’re not a real meal. I hate to say it, but most of the time I see these morsels like junk mail: there are lots of them, but most, if not all, are best skipped.

When I see too much junk, I tend to pass on the food entirely. I’d rather eat later and find something nutritious at home. Drawing that line has served me well, and I highly recommend it.

Signs of Change: The Women in Hospitality Conference

Right off the bat, I appreciated the signage indicating the ingredients near the food at the NYSRA Women in Hospitality Conference in New York City, presented in partnership with Google. This was thoughtful, intentional, and genuinely welcome.

Lunch featured two fresh salads, sandwiches, and other dishes. I opted for the salads, but skipped the dressings as I didn’t see simple oil and vinegar as an option.

I passed on the chicken Caesar wrap because I like just plain sandwiches. I didn’t take the turkey wrap either because I’d recently made an 18-pound turkey at home, so I certainly wasn’t craving more, especially not cold cuts. We’re still working through turkey soup, sandwiches, and dinners. I even had to special-order cranberry sauce since it's tough to find off-season.

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Always Be Prepared

Because I didn’t know what was going to be served at the Women in Hospitality Conference, I had tucked a few things in my bag. They were two homemade granola bars, a tangerine, and some water. One should never be unprepared when it comes to food.

I carry a light backpack to conferences and events, and I always think about what I might need the night before. It’s a small habit. I also pack a napkin or two, which is especially useful if I’m bringing fruit or anything messy.

And in the inside pocket of the bag? A single-serve bag of oatmeal, just in case breakfast options are mostly muffins and pastries. I rarely eat baked goods I haven’t made myself because they tend to be too rich in sugar, salt, or fat. Now, I typically see yogurt, fruit, and sometimes eggs alongside the baked goods, which I’d put in the plus column.

The Surprise of a Great Cocktail Hour

Later that day, after the speakers had finished, they held a cocktail hour. The spread included seasoned vegetables with clearly listed ingredients, mouth-watering hummus, and a green goddess vinaigrette from a recipe by keynote speaker Melissa Ben-Ishay, co-founder and CEO of Baked by Melissa. I meant to try it, but I was distracted by the creamy hummus.

A large, meticulously arranged cheese and fruit tray was added to the spread. Sitting down, I nibbled on a soft, warm pita with slightly addictive hummus when a server offered me a zero-sugar orange soda. I declined because I don’t drink soda. I prefer sparkling flavored water, if anything. At this event, they had lemon-basil infused water, which was fresh, bright, and refreshing.

I left the event feeling good about the people I met and the food I ate, with my copy of Come Hungry by Baked by Melissa CEO Melissa Ben-Inshay tucked in my canvas bag. On the subway, I flipped through its pages, and a wave of memories from my travels to the Middle East came rushing back. The vegetable-laden dishes, impeccably presented on each page, returned me to the cuisine of the region.

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A Year Ago: A Lesson in Preparation

This positive food conference experience was a far cry from a major San Francisco tech conference I attended a year ago, where the food served by the organizer was dismal. Everything was fried, buried in sauce, or dyed to match the colors in the sponsor’s logo. It was nothing I wanted to eat.

Thankfully, I had packed that same backpack with lettuce, frozen smoked salmon, hard-boiled eggs, nuts, and other healthy snacks such as our homemade banana bread and granola bars. Everything was prepped in the Fischer Kitchen.

Was it silly to bring that food cross-country? It’s all a matter of priority. If health is your priority, pay attention to it. That’s what I was doing. I was very grateful to have a bit of the Fischer Kitchen with me, easily accessible without having to run around to find something I liked.

I didn’t enjoy the conference meals, some of which didn’t have vegetables and leaned heavily on starchy foods, and the better restaurants weren’t nearby. I was also pressed for time. I found one or two places nearby that I liked, and I was happy to visit them a few times.

Final Bite

When conference food is good, it deserves a shout-out. However, I’ll still come prepared, because feeling good afterward is worth it. Besides, free food is rarely truly free.

One day, while trying to fit something onto the side of the refrigerator door, I thought: Wow, these glass jars have been in here a while. I only replace them when they run out, but since I don’t use that much of each one at a time, they tend to hang around for a long time.

Since I don’t buy them often, I hadn’t run them through the Yuka app (Yuka is a free app that provides a nutritional breakdown by scanning the barcode). Food manufacturers are not always fans—it often reveals that products labeled as healthy may or may not score well on certain factors. The power of Yuka was described in a Wall Street Journal article, but even before I read it, I decided to “Yuke” the condiments in the fridge door.

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I couldn’t believe it—nearly half of them scored “poor” or “bad.” It wasn’t “Yuke” going on. It was a potential “Nuke.” I didn’t want to discard everything, especially since my husband, Phil, likes some of them. So, I created a simple system: a red sticker on the poor ones (to be used sparingly), and two stickers on the bad ones (please avoid). I was surprised to see so many ranked as “poor” though. Most of those didn’t even get to two stickers. They just went right out without further thought.

Learning we now had a coding system on condiments, Phil didn’t say anything other than “sure.” He knew not to mess with the particulars of this exercise going on. In truth, he wanted no part of it. He was pleased to eat the condiments we had. But I wasn’t. He said nothing of the micromanagement going on here – wisely. But I tried to bend too and left more than I wanted to of the one and two-dotters.

But every time I opened the fridge, I thought, Why are we settling for this? Why do we need these?

Those one and two dotters didn’t last. Finally, that was it. While handing him lunch, I blurted out, “Do you mind if I toss this mayonnaise?”

“No, I’m okay with that.”

“If you ever want some, I’ll make it. Honestly, the tuna with olive oil and vegetables last time was pretty good as is, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” he agreed.

Out that went. Kerplunk, right in the trash.

“And the tartar sauce? Awful for you. I can’t in good conscience keep it,” I said, feeling a twinge of guilt thinking of how he liked to have it on fish.

Boldly, I said, “It’s gotta go. Use mustard. Plain yellow mustard is good.”

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I didn’t know how common mustard on fish was but heck, he might as well try something new and adventurous on the plate. At least I didn’t suggest ketchup. That might have raised an eyebrow from him, even though he loves it. Growing up, he said the food needed a lift, so he’d slather it with ketchup.

We’d already had a considerable debate about ketchup a while back, so now we’re in the clear with three versions I like. I even made ketchup once—it was all vegetables and delicious—but without preservatives, it didn’t last long. It spoiled. So, we compromised: I buy ketchup, but only if it scores well on the Yuka app.

Now, nothing in our fridge door scores “poor.” There is one item with xanthan gum that slipped by me, as I’m no fan of emulsifiers (they can clog up our insides, as the WSJ recently reported); that one’s getting the heave-ho, too.

After this exercise, which lasted at least a week, we ended up with a vastly reduced Condiment selection. We had fewer, but better-quality options. I considered that a kitchen win. I am not sure what Phil ultimately thought. I can say he was happy that I was happy. He got good spouse points for that.

You might wonder how Phil survives in this evolving kitchen. He’s easygoing—and honestly, eating pretty well as a result.

I’d love for you to explore the side door of your fridge. What’s in there? How long has it been sitting? And is it good to eat?

Take the Condiment Challenge. Please scan your products—and let me know what you find!

And by the way, here’s how the side door of our refrigerator looks now. No red dots at all!

We lead busy lives, and food often takes a back seat to our work, family, and other responsibilities. But when our diet suffers, so does our health—sometimes leading to chronic conditions like hypertension, obesity, and diabetes.

A recent Wall Street Journal article, “Chronic Disease Is the Biggest Scourge in American Health,” deserves everyone’s attention. If you missed it, here’s the link.

In the U.S., we spend a lot on healthcare, yet outcomes fall short. A report from the Commonwealth Fund highlights affordability and access as key issues. The U.S. excels at delivering healthcare, though it’s complicated by insurance and billing. Still, Americans, on average, live shorter lives than those in peer nations.

About 33% of American adults have had multiple chronic conditions—more than in any comparable country—according to another Commonwealth Fund report. That same report found the U.S. has the highest rates of avoidable or treatable deaths, and among the highest suicide rates. (Every life is precious. That last point is painful to see.)

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So, what can be done?

The Commonwealth Fund suggests several systemic fixes, including increasing investment in primary care, reducing administrative inefficiencies, addressing the financial effects of healthcare consolidation, and aligning social policy to better support public health.

Big words. Big problems. So what can you do?

This is where the WSJ article stood out. It asked, How healthy are Americans? The answer, sadly: not very. We lag behind much of the world for many reasons—including limited physical activity, diets high in sugar and ultra-processed foods, the high cost of care, poor insurance access, and a shortage of available doctors.

Some of those factors are beyond our control.

But food? That’s something we can manage—at least, some of the time. And that’s what I took away from this important article.

What I recommend

Right off the bat, I would eliminate sugary drinks and processed foods. They simply don’t exist on my list. I’d rather have water and a handful of fruit or nuts. That alone simplifies things.

As for meals, I focus on easy, real foods—vegetables and proteins that don’t require much prep. Some mornings it’s store-bought hard-boiled eggs if I haven’t had time to make them myself, or oatmeal with blueberries for fiber. I toss in a vegetable as a side—usually whatever’s in the fridge.

If you know me, you know I believe in having a vegetable at every meal. Still, sometimes I have to bend that rule. At a recent conference, breakfast was the usual spread of baked goods and fruit. I came prepared with instant oatmeal, added some blueberries from the fruit tray, and took a few slices of cantaloupe. Not quite home, but close enough.

Lunch might be a salad with turkey, chicken, or salmon. I skip heavy sandwiches and sauces in favor of something lighter. Do I skip the chips? Always. I don’t need the extra oils or cholesterol. They don’t hold any appeal for me because I want to stay well so that I can achieve my goals.

One of my deep beliefs is that as we age, we need to be ever more mindful of what we put in our bodies. Food choices shouldn’t be made casually. I’ll reach for an orange or a banana—and if I’m lucky, there’s some homemade banana bread or granola bars in the fridge.

Dinner takes a little planning, which I usually do on the weekend. I keep dinner simple: good-quality basics, not elaborate recipes with a dozen ingredients. I admire people who can pull that off, but it takes time and a pantry I don’t always have. I’ll cook fish, chicken, or tofu and add a mix of vegetables with a carb or healthy fat. I keep condiments at a minimal—maybe a little mustard or no-sugar ketchup made from vegetables.

Sometimes I prepare vegetables ahead of time. Other weeks, I wash and store them as I go.

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Pianos and more

We like to say around here that you can’t always control a piano falling on your head. What I mean is—we’re all juggling a lot, and health issues may still arise despite our best efforts. The piano falls. But if food is one of the few things we can influence, maybe taking care of ourselves through what we eat can help us stay well just a little longer.

And that feels like a good place to start.

That made me feel a bit better about forgetting to take a photo at the culmination of our great turkey adventure. For now, I’d have to settle for a stock photo rather than the real thing. But you get the idea!

We had spent four days defrosting a gigantic bird that took most of a day to cook. The picture would have been nice, but it was collateral. The real goal was to prove that even in May, it’s possible to feast on a fresh turkey and avoid the ultra-processed meats that plague most American diets.

Eating large amounts of ultra-processed meat products—like hot dogs, bacon, and deli meats—can disrupt the balance of healthy gut bacteria, weaken the gut lining, and increase the risk of colon cancer, according to Impact of Ultra-Processed Meat Products on Human Health: Review and Outlook, published in the Journal of Food Science on February 10, 2025.

So, I set out to see just how hard it would be to avoid those products. I wanted to buy a large, high-quality source of protein—pasture-raised and antibiotic-free—that could yield multiple meals.

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Turkey might not seem like the most obvious or exclusive choice. Many foods—from eggs to tofu—are good options, but each has its complications. Cholesterol is a constant concern, as are calories. Plant-based proteins like black beans are appealing for their affordability and minimal processing, yet balanced meals often include some animal protein—and turkey holds up well in that category.

There’s another factor that’s not often discussed enough: culture. Turkey, in all its variations, is a part of American food tradition. A big turkey feels more like a feast than a diet. It’s easier to embrace emotionally than a string of veggie-only meals (though we enjoy those, too). So, we chose turkey. We believe holiday-style meals can be enjoyed any time of year. A massive turkey doesn't have to be reserved for Thanksgiving.

When it arrived, the turkey was essentially an 18-pound frozen rock. It took some effort to get it out of the cardboard box and insulation and into a freezer tote. From there, we hoisted it into the fridge. Four days later, it had defrosted and we were ready to begin.

I pulled it from the fridge, tipped it from the tote onto some parchment paper on the kitchen counter, and cut the plastic.

“Whoa, watch out, it’s leaking,” Phil said, grabbing paper towels.

I reached inside the turkey to remove the neck and other parts, making sure I got everything. We angled the roasting pan so that we could push the bird onto the rack, adding water to the bottom of the pan. I seasoned the exterior with extra virgin olive oil and my favorite spices: paprika, sumac, Za’atar, Mrs. Dash table blend, and garlic powder. It was complete with its aluminum tent.

The event was about to begin. Into the oven it went, at 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Phil grabbed one handle, I the other, and together we carefully lowered it into the oven like a giant gold bar into a vault.

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A little more than five hours later, we had our turkey—golden brown with a crisp outer shell. What I could see underneath looked tender and moist. We let it rest for 30 minutes before carving.

As I started cutting, I gasped. “Oh no! I left some of the giblets inside. I thought I got them all.”

“It’s okay,” Phil reassured me. “They’re wrapped in paper—it won’t harm us.”

It may have been a minor—or major—turkey-cooking faux pas. I later looked it up. Turns out, this is a common mistake. As long as the meat reaches 165 degrees Fahrenheit and the giblets are in paper, it’s safe.

We carved up a corner of the turkey, including a leg. I already had spinach and potatoes prepared and I had a good cranberry sauce too. But I needed stuffing and gravy. It just wouldn’t feel like Thanksgiving in May without it.

I quickly whipped up both. The stuffing was a bit inventive: sautéed onions and celery in extra virgin olive oil with my go-to spices (paprika, garlic powder, sumac and Za’atar), plus a few slices of our homemade cinnamon raisin bread cut into cubes by Phil. Then I added vegetable broth to the whole mix and stirred vigorously. Believe it or not, the cinnamon gave this creative stuffing a delicious twist.

After dinner, we stripped the bird of all its meat, saved the carcass for soup (though I’ll have to read up on how to make it), and packed away six portions for future meals, plus another three portions in the refrigerator for the week. It was a bit of work—but I’ll do it again. And next time, I won’t forget the picture.

It was a very specific choice for so many good reasons.

I don’t eat out just for the food. Not even for a Michelin star or stars. I’d rather cook at home, where I know what I’m eating. If you care about your health, I think that’s a better approach. But if you do go out, make it count, even if a few calories go on the plate. Dōgon more than counted.

What drew me there was Notes from a Young Black Chef by Kwame Onwuachi, a memoir Amazon recommended. It’s a gripping account of a young man navigating drugs, grief, racism, and the brutal realities of the restaurant world—but also talent, tenacity, and family. Food, his mother, and his sister became steady lifelines. His path from hardship to success felt honest and earned, and made me want to support what he’s building. His New York City restaurant, Tatiana, is a standout. Getting a reservation online seemed hopeless.

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Dōgon was more accessible given I was staying at the Salamander hotel. The restaurant was inspired by two forces: 1) the Dogon tribe of Mali, known for their rich cultural traditions and early astronomical knowledge and 2) Benjamin Banneker, the self-taught mathematician, astronomer, and scientist who published almanacs, because he may have had ancestors from this region (though this remains a matter of conjecture).

Banneker was bold and brilliant, writing Thomas Jefferson to ask how a nation could declare all men equal while upholding slavery. Jefferson wrote back, acknowledging Banneker’s intellect but sidestepped the deeper issue he raised.

(This letter was on display at the National Museum of African American History and Culture. It is part of the collection at the Library of Congress.)

Sculptures of Banneker and Jefferson appear on the first floor of the National Museum of African American History and Culture. They stand just feet apart—frozen in time, embodying conviction and contradiction. That image stayed with me.

It’s worth noting that after Pierre L’Enfant was dismissed from the Washington, D.C. project, Banneker assisted Andrew Ellicott in surveying the boundaries of the federal district that would become the capital.

With a history like that, the cuisine should be historic, and it is. Inspired by West Africa and Caribbean cuisine, Dōgon’s menu is flavorful and precise to its schema. The cornbread was light and airy, and the spicy butter added just the touch.

Next up was the crab. It was lightly crisped on the outside and soft inside, paired with small silver dollar-sized pancakes and a sauce that pulled it all together. It was a composition dish, the elements of which contributed to a richer whole. It gave me ideas for my kitchen: crab cakes with almond crunch, perhaps a yogurt-based sauce.

Phil’s cabbage arrived in a shallow bowl of hot and sour broth. I had doubts, but one spoonful changed my mind — mellow heat, perfectly tender cabbage with golden seared edges. He was surprised. It was an unusual presentation, but a delicious one.

I ordered the fish, which arrived already filleted, refined and delicate—no bones, no heaviness. Just clean, thoughtful food.

I asked the waiter about the seafood.

“Where’s the branzino from?”

“New Zealand.”

“Oysters?”

“Virginia.”

“Ahi tuna?”

“Japan.”

Everything had its origins — and it tasted better for it.

Phil said the menu was not large, but it was well composed, a little symphony of tastes leading to an overall harmony. “The customer can’t make a mistake. No matter what they order, it all produces a wonderful meal.”

We ended with a rum cake, its hard shell sealing in a moist and fragrant center cake. I had a bite. It was a splurge, and I smiled.

Phil beamed across the table and wished me a happy birthday.

Most advice about eating healthy while traveling is useful, but has its limitations. Pack a snack. Drink water. Move your legs. Yes, that’s helpful.

But when you’re staring down a wall of processed food at the airport, it only takes you so far.

At the Fischer Kitchen, we believe in stepping up for your own well-being and advocating for your health. That requires clarity and determination wherever you are.

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Recently, I took a trip to Nevada and couldn’t help but notice the plethora of processed food in the airport. Row after row of chips, sodas, candy, and energy bars — alongside overpriced salty nuts and cupcakes with sprinkles in vending machines. (Horrible, if you care about what you’re putting into the one and only body you have!)

Yes, there were the occasional salads and pieces of fruit, but they don’t make up for the bulk of what was offered. A few restaurants might serve something better, but if you’re on the go and hungry, you likely won’t have time to stop. That’s why most of what’s there is quick grab-and-go — and, in my view, most of it isn’t particularly healthy.

I turned to my husband Phil and said that seeing this kind of offering was utterly abysmal, even with a few token fruits and salads around. The message was clear: if you need energy, grab one of these. They’re brands you know and trust — maybe even tied to catchy songs or childhood memories.

Whether you’re traveling for business or pleasure, you're faced with these choices — and they’re hugely problematic. But since this is the reality, we have to combat it head-on with preparation and a new mindset.

Here are a few notes I took while traveling:

Six Ways to Protect Your Health on the Road

1. Embrace a New Mindset: Eating Healthy on the Go Is "Trip Insurance"
Insurance is taken out in case things go badly. Eating well — even at some expense — ensures you feel well on your trip. That’s your new “trip insurance.” Before you hit the road, think about exactly how you’re going to execute it.
(I have ideas to share. Read on!)

2. Remember the Paint Chip Theory of Food

We often focus only on flights and hotels when budgeting, forgetting the cost to our bodies. It’s easy to think, it’s just one bag of chips. But little by little, the chips pile up — like tiny paint chips on a wall — until one day it’s clear the whole wall needs repainting.
Same with food. Bad snacks eaten on the road don’t seem to matter — until they suddenly do, affecting your stomach, arteries, or leading to prediabetes.
Let that scare you — because it should. It scares me!

3. Don’t Board Hungry — Pack Like Your Health Depends on It

Before flying, have one simple goal: Don’t walk onto that plane hungry.

Here’s the real deal:

• Economy: Expect a box of processed food, maybe some grapes or cheese if you’re lucky. I usually decline it all.

• Business Class: You’ll be tempted by multiple bread baskets, extra drinks, and fancy desserts. I’ve learned to say no — it’s just too much.

• Bottom line: No matter how you're flying, your body deserves better.

Pack real food, if you can. Protect your health. This is your true trip insurance.

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4. Take Care of Your Body, Inside and Out

You pack clothes to stay cool, warm, or dry — so take the same care with what goes inside you.

Pack snacks: a sandwich, organic carrots, a banana, a small bag of nuts. I prep the night before: rainbow carrots in a Ziplock bag, a custom nut mix from our nut drawer (better oils, better ingredients).

It’s not about money — it’s about quality.

Some packaged nuts are roasted in oils, which I avoid. Mixing my own, with a few smoked almonds, gives me just the right amount of salt — without the junk.

Same with cereal. I like Three Wishes and Lovebird — they score well on the Yuka app (I highly recommend the app. It’s free, but I became a premium member to support the cause! By the way, I receive no compensation directly or indirectly from them.).

• Three Wishes Unsweetened Cereal: 90/100

• Lovebird Cinnamon: 79/100

If I arrive to my destination late, I pack: a paper plate, plastic utensils, carrots, a frozen piece of salmon (defrosts in transit), and a handful of lettuce with a few tomatoes. Done.

Sometimes I toss in homemade banana bread or energy bars (recipes coming soon — easy, low-calorie, tasty!).

If you don’t have time to make your own, scan store-bought bars with the Yuka app (or similar) to find the best of the worst. Here are some that got a “good” rating:

• RX Peanut Butter Protein Bar: 69/100

• Dave’s Killer Bread Organic Snack Bar Cocoa Brownie Blitz: 55/100

• Kind Peanut Butter Dark Chocolate Bars: 54/100

• Cliff Crunchy Peanut Butter Bar: 54/100

• Organic Z Bar Chocolate Chip: 52/100

  

5. Reality Bites — Even in the Best Places

Las Vegas has amazing restaurants, but you still need real food. I took an Uber to Whole Foods and stocked up for breakfasts, a few lunches, and a dinner or two since our hotel room had a full kitchen and dining area.

Below is one of our in-hotel room breakfasts on the go.

And no, it’s not about being “cheap.” It’s about knowing where your food comes from.

Our formula: a little prep from home, smart eating out, and a quick grocery run if needed. So far, so good.

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6. Variety Is Fun — But Certainty Has Its Virtues

At lunch in Las Vegas, we asked a guy at the next table what he recommended. He knew the menu well at the Greek restaurant Estiatorio Milos. He was a frequent business traveler who’d found a healthy spot and stuck with it. Not a bad strategy. A clean, go-to restaurant you can count on is a gift, especially when traveling.

Final Note

Every trip has hidden costs. Don’t let your health be one of them. It’s hard — I’m in the same boat — but we have to work on it. The answer is preparation. And a little goes a long way.

What are your tips for staying healthy on the go? Do tell!

What was bright blue, cruised the East Coast, and gave away 70% of your daily sugar intake in one bite?

The Munchie Mobile—part of a professional campaign by The J.M. Smucker Co. to promote Hostess snacks like Twinkies, Ding Dongs, Donettes, and Ho Hos.

The bright blue truck with free snacks from Hostess Cakes cruised the East Coast recently. Great marketing, but it’s just another arm of the food industry propping up its goods. I thought this was precisely the problem the Fischer Kitchen confronts with our food choices. I write about avoiding these kinds of snacks in favor of healthier options.

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The truck’s free offerings of Twinkies, Ding Dongs, Donettes, and Kazbars are on my everything-I-won’t-eat list. I don’t think others should either, though a prohibition on alcohol serves as a warning that human nature is not easily thwarted. Just because I respect human nature doesn’t mean we can’t be convinced that a Munchie Mobile highlighting processed snacks may not be the best choice for a snack compared to a healthy one. Still, if you must have one, consider it a treat: nibble on it, share it, but don’t eat all of it! That’s my two cents.

Against big marketing, it’s easy for people to get swept up in the excitement of a campaign featuring a bright blue truck with cool swirls and inviting Twinkies and Cupcakes – and they were free! The truck started in NYC on April 10, traveled up and down the East Coast from April 11 to 19 on a Route 420 road trip, making stops in cities in MA, CT, MD, and NJ, and ended in Brooklyn on April 20.

However, beyond its image as a playful campaign are master marketers of the American diet are behind it. These individuals are true professionals, committed to ensuring that people engage in a long-term program to purchase these products.

They recognize that many people have fond memories of eating those snacks as kids. I saw them as a child, too, but I really don’t remember eating them since my parents didn’t usually buy those kinds of treats. At that time, I was stuck with healthier options, which was tough for me as a kid because I wasn't eating what everyone else was! How uncool is that? I had to go to my grandmother’s house to find Chips Ahoy and Social Teas.

Now, as an adult, I don’t buy processed snacks. Instead, I head to the kitchen to make my own snacks (I promise to share my energy bar and banana recipes soon!). Alternatively, I grab some nuts or a piece of fruit. I enjoy organic mandarin oranges; they’re easy to peel and sweet.

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We’re ultimately discussing priorities. Maintaining your body in good shape must take precedence over consuming something that may not benefit your well-being. Therefore, examine those delectable free snacks with great care.

Having spent a significant part of my career in marketing and communications, I have a certain respect for food promotions, including mobile marketing efforts. Marketers have a job to do: sell the products they create.

But you have a responsibility as well. You must evaluate your food choices in a way that ensures you are satisfied that you’ve made the best decision for yourself. This is one area where discipline can save you a few calories and improve your overall health. Choose a healthy snack instead!

And if you choose to snack on items like those listed below, at least check the label. They’re really helpful!

Twinkies®

• Serving Size: 2 cakes (77g)

• Calories: 280

• Total Fat: 9g (11% DV)

  • Saturated Fat: 3.5g (18% DV)

  • Trans Fat: 0g

• Cholesterol: 30mg (11% DV)

• Sodium: 360mg (16% DV)

• Total Carbohydrate: 47g (17% DV)

  • Dietary Fiber: 0g (0% DV)

  • Total Sugars: 31g

    • Includes Added Sugars: 31g (62% DV)

• Protein: 2g

• Vitamin D: 0µg (0% DV)

• Calcium: 20mg (2% DV)

• Iron: 1mg (6% DV)

• Potassium: 50mg (2% DV)​

*The % Daily Value tells you how much a nutrient in a serving of food contributes to a daily diet. 2000 calories a day is used for general nutrition advice.

Source: https://www.hostesscakes.com/everyday-snacks/twinkies

Ding Dongs®

• Serving Size: 2 cakes (72g)

• Calories: 310

• Total Fat: 16g (21% DV)

  • Saturated Fat: 10g (50% DV)

  • Trans Fat: 0g

• Cholesterol: 0mg (0% DV)

• Sodium: 290mg (13% DV)

• Total Carbohydrate: 42g (15% DV)

  • Dietary Fiber: 1g (4% DV)

  • Total Sugars: 31g

    • Includes Added Sugars: 30g (60% DV)

• Protein: 2g (0% DV)

• Vitamin D: 0µg (0% DV)

• Calcium: 10mg (0% DV)

• Iron: 1.8mg (10% DV)

• Potassium: 120mg (2% DV)​

*The % Daily Value tells you how much a nutrient in a serving of food contributes to a daily diet. 2000 calories a day is used for general nutrition advice.

Source: https://www.hostesscakes.com/everyday-snacks/ding-dongs

Donettes® Powdered Mini Donuts

• Serving Size: 3 donuts (53g)

• Calories: 230

• Total Fat: 12g (15% DV)

  • Saturated Fat: 6g (30% DV)

  • Trans Fat: 0g

• Cholesterol: 10mg (3% DV)

• Sodium: 200mg (9% DV)

• Total Carbohydrate: 30g (11% DV)

  • Dietary Fiber: 1g (4% DV)

  • Total Sugars: 15g

    • Includes Added Sugars: 14g (28% DV)

• Protein: 2g

• Vitamin D: 0µg (0% DV)

• Calcium: 0mg (0% DV)

• Iron: 0.9mg (6% DV)

• Potassium: 0mg (0% DV)

*The % Daily Value tells you how much a nutrient in a serving of food contributes to a daily diet. 2000 calories a day is used for general nutrition advice.

Source: https://www.hostesscakes.com/everyday-snacks/donettes-powdered

Kazbars™ Chocolate

Serving Size: 1 bar (78g)

• Calories: 330

• Total Fat: 15g (19% DV)

  • Saturated Fat: 11g (55% DV)

  • Trans Fat: 0g

• Cholesterol: 0mg (0% DV)

• Sodium: 270mg (12% DV)

• Total Carbohydrate: 48g (17% DV)

  • Dietary Fiber: 1g (4% DV)

  • Total Sugars: 36g

    • Includes Added Sugars: 35g (70% DV)

• Protein: 2g

• Vitamin D: 0µg (0% DV)

• Calcium: 24mg (2% DV)

• Iron: 2mg (10% DV)

• Potassium: 170mg (4% DV)​

*The % Daily Value tells you how much a nutrient in a serving of food contributes to a daily diet. 2000 calories a day is used for general nutrition advice.

Source: https://www.hostesscakes.com/everyday-snacks/kazbars-chocolate