Purple Chicken, Red Potatoes, with a Side of Guilt

Tonight I was experimenting with a chicken dish.  The other day, Publix had Ken's salad dressings BOGO (buy one, get one).  I don't buy everything that is BOGO.  But if I can actually see myself using it, I take full advantage of the BOGO.  Plus, I love writing BOGO.  BOGO BOGO BOGO.  I'll stop.

Anyway, I bought two Ken's dressings because I use them as marinades.  Salad dressing works great as a marinade.  And the dressing syndicate has figured this out.  So now they put dressing in a bottle with different labels and sell them in the marinade section.  Seriously - look at it next time.  Try to tell me what the difference is.  (Get to the point.)  One of the flavors I got was a Blueberry Pomegranate Vinaigrette.  I thought it would be great with chicken or fish.  Today, I threw three boneless skinless chicken breasts in a bag with the dressing and let it soak.

When I took the chicken out, I noticed that it was pink.  Well, magenta.  It looked kind of like the color of a red beet pickled egg.  When I put it in the pan to cook, I also decided to pour the rest of the marinade into the pan.  And, I dumped the rest of an older pint of blueberries into the pan - to get rid of them.  As the chicken cooked, it went from magenta to flat out purple.  The outside was a deep purple.  Scared the snot out of the kids.  I tried to convince them that it was a cool thing.  But they were already on guard.  I tried to just cook the chicken like I usually do - seared on a high temp for a few minutes and then cooked with a lid at a low temp for the rest of the time.  But it wasn't working - the searing wouldn't take.  Anyway, I ended up having the sauce boil out of the pan once.  (It almost happened twice.)  I also got purple splatter on one of my five shirts that fit right.  (YAY!)

At the same time as I was doing this, I was making corn on the cob and red potatoes.  The corn was actually done and just sitting in the hot water.  I had accidentally started it about fifteen minutes too early.  (My brain was not working right tonight.)  I went to make the potatoes and couldn't figure out how to make them.  I couldn't remember if I ever had made baby red potatoes.  My mom used to make a good dill potato dish with red potatoes.  But I couldn't remember what to do.  Heather said, "Just roast them."  Dur.  (As I said, my brain was out of it for some reason.)  I lightly poured olive oil on the potatoes, sprinkled dill and 4 Rivers Smokehouse Seasoning on it.  And I roasted those dudes.

The kids were not on board.  We had purple chicken, these weird red potatoes, and corn - which has been on Natalie's bad list since she has loose teeth.  I was worried also.  Sure, the look was weird.  (Purple chicken is NOT attractive.)  But the potatoes were just there haunting me.  I haven't had potatoes in five months.  It was never because I had an addiction level problem with potatoes.  In fact, I never considered potatoes much of a favorite item.  I would inhale french fries.  But when it came to potatoes in general - I felt pretty in control of the quantity I ate.  Well, unless they were covered with bacon, sour cream, butter, or the contents of a steak sub.

But potatoes fell into my voluntary starch embargo.  As I explained before, I am actually taking a two prong approach to my food battle.  I am completely avoiding the foods I have discovered to be things I am addicted to, emotionally attached to, or unable to control the quantity of.  Then I also am not eating most starches (bread, potatoes, breading).  This is to reduce my dependence on them - and to accelerate the weight loss by forcing my body to burn off fat deposits.  So, I really don't HAVE to follow the "No Starch" rule.  It is an optional thing - but it is something that I treat with the same seriousness as the addiction foods.  My concern, knowing myself as I do, is that if I am too lenient with myself I will wreck.

Tonight, I had no desire to also cook rice, just because I couldn't eat the potatoes.  I decided that I would have some of the potatoes - but just be really careful on how many.  (Even though I never gorge on potatoes.)  They came out really good.  Actually, the whole meal was very good.  The chicken had a great fruity flavor.  And the inside of it was still white instead of being purple the whole way through.  However, instead of enjoying the small amount of potatoes I had, I sat there and felt guilty as I was eating them.

I was stressing that eating the two little taters was going to set me off on a starch wolfing bender.  Next thing I know, I'll be passed out in Publix after inhaling a whole can of Idahoan instant potato flakes.  It is ridiculous.  But I have a problem.

I am very good at being very legalistic with myself (and others).  When it comes time to just lay down the law, I can do that.  This has been proved many times over - my approach to alcohol, my movie fast of about ten years ago, this food effort.  The problem is when I try to work some freedom or leniency into the whole thing.  That is something I have trouble with.  It is like I am a car.  It is easy for me to sit there with my foot clamped onto the brake pedal - completely stopping my moving at all.  But, when I take my food off the brakes at all, the car just has always raced away.  There is no quarter impulse power (for you Star Trek fans).  It is either All Stop or Warp Ten.  My biggest challenge at this point of my effort is to learn how blend strictness with freedom.

For those of you who have read this blog for a long time, you realize that this is a very common theme in the posts.  I have battled this with frozen yogurt, with brown rice, with peanut butter, with vanilla yogurt.  Every time I come upon a food that is trying to cross from "avoidance for non-addiction reasons" to "eat with caution," I go through a ton of guilt and self-doubt.  The sad things is that I don't even WANT to bring potatoes back into the fold.  They add nothing to me.  I don't like them enough to bring them back. They are just trouble waiting to happen.  But I also don't want to feel like a cheating turd because I decide to eat them twice a year.

I'm not sure why it bothered me so much.  I've been wrestling with a lot of mental warfare the last couple of days.  Yesterday was one of my worst days in a LOOOONG time.  The whole day was terrible.  Gabe busted his lip.  My wedding ring got mangled in the garbage disposal.  We got charged for something we didn't order.  And there was a lot of kid-related issues.  By the end of the day, I was so hungry (after only having a yogurt and two bananas all day) that I just wanted to go and eat something without thinking about it.  "Go get a hamburger!  It's just one night!  No big deal!"  I haven't had to fight those thoughts off in months!  I was kind of surprised that kind of attack was still in there.  I ultimately just had some soup, to diffuse the attack.  Maybe that was why I was so tough on myself today.  [I wouldn't eat at Chick Fil A because I couldn't come up with something to get without feeling bad or not getting enough food.]  I guess this is the cost of trying to do this right.

Freedom is two sided.  On one hand, freedom means that I am free to NOT do things wrong.  I don't have to do the stupid things that had defined me so much.  I am free form that prison.  But, freedom also means that I don't have to be legalistic.  If the food is not one of those "Never under any circumstances" foods, then I should be free to partake of it  - in a healthy and controlled manner.  That is the freedom that I am still trying to get a handle on.

I just never thought I would be more comfortable eating purple chicken than red potatoes.