I’m not quite as sad as I was before.
Last week I told you how sad I was that Arby’s had discontinued the sale of their Pecan Chicken Sandwich. Frankly, that tasty sandwich on Wheatberry Bread was the only reason I went to Arby’s.
But I’m over it. For one, I have found a couple of recipes online that I believe fairly approximate the great taste of the Pecan Chicken Sandwich. I’m eager to try them as soon as I finish the thrashing crew-sized batch of pasta I made a few nights ago.
But the REAL reason I’m over it is this: in researching the sandwich I discovered that it had about double the calories I had suspected. 769 to be exact.
To put this into perspective: I pop a Lean Cuisine into the microwave, and it’s generally about 300 calories. A little meat, a little vegetables, a little sauce (very little, if you ask me). Three to five minutes later, it’s a meal. More than that and it’s an overcooked, indistinguishable brick. Cooked properly, it’s a tiny meal, to be sure, but a meal with some variety in flavor.
Given the fact that the Arby’s Pecan Chicken Salad Sandwich didn’t occupy a whole lot more physical space than a Lean Cuisine (to my untrained eye), I figured it was 300-400 calories max. It's nearly twice that. Like popping TWO Lean Cuisines into the microwave, instead of one.
Which is why reality bites. 769 calories? Did Arby’s use lard instead of mayonnaise to create the Pecan Chicken Sandwich? Why doesn’t anyone use light mayonnaise, anyway? Why don’t we Americans just throw out all regular mayonnaise? I'd like to hear Jared from Subway "weigh in" on this subject!
To think that those times I stopped at Arby’s and had a Pecan Chicken Sandwich and assumed I was being smart and healthy when I was really being hornswoggled into thinking I was doing something good, calorie-wise.
Maybe no one hornswoggled me. Maybe I just didn’t get the facts. I don’t want to blame Arby’s because I know how to be an informed consumer. Still, it seemed like such an innocuous sandwich that I bought it without questioning its caloric content.
So here’s what you can learn from my experience: Fast food is convenient. It is rarely low or moderate in calories.
That’s it. Only one lesson today. Goodnight.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Farewell, Pecan Chicken Sandwich from Arby’s
Sometime during the last few months you left, and I didn’t get to say goodbye. Imagine my surprise when I looked for you at the Arby's drive-thru. You weren’t in your usual spot, so I scanned the menu a second time. Then I asked the person on the other side of the intercom where you were….
Arby’s employee: (Click, feedback noise) Hi, welcome to Arby’s! May I take your order? (spoken like every sentence ends in an exclamation point.)
Me: Yeah, uh, I’d like that Chicken Pecan sandwich, not the wrap, but the sandwich, you know, on that really great wheatberry bread –
Arby’s employee: We’ve taken that off the menu! (Like she was HAPPY about it.) Would you like to try our roast turkey ranch and bacon combo with curly fries and a soft drink?
Me: (About to cry and considering pulling out of the drive-thru altogether, then wondering, good grief, how many calories are in a roast turkey ranch and bacon sandwich???) Well, um, sure, but skip the fries, just give me a small Diet Pepsi. Or hemlock if you have it. (Just kidding about the hemlock! I’m not going to get suicidal over a sandwich!)
Arby’s employee: Your total is $5.31 – please drive up to the window!
Me: (sniffling trying to see through tears) Okay….
I may be exaggerating about the tears, but I sure was disappointed. That pecan chicken salad was the best thing about Arby’s, in my opinion. And it got laid off. They didn’t really give it a chance. I suppose in these economic times you’d better prove yourself worthy very quickly if you’re a new menu item. Maybe the stimulus package can bring it back….
But even if the chicken pecan salad sandwich is gone for good, it’s not as upsetting as when Lancome discontinues a favorite shade of lipstick. I’ve already searched the internet and my cookbook library (200 and counting) and have found two recipes that claim to be likenesses of my beloved chicken pecan salad. I’ll experiment with both and I’m sure I’ll concoct something delicious.
You see, a discontinued lipstick is a disappointment of a higher level, since most of us don’t have access to the manufacturers’ formulas or a lipstick laboratory. As a disclaimer here, I have to say I have never personally experienced this level of anxiety with lipstick, but once upon a time I had a friend who did.
What happened is that on one of our usual Saturday afternoon shopping expeditions we stopped at the Lancome counter at Dillard’s. My friend was excited about replacing a tube of her favorite lipstick, a deep burgundy that looked fabulous on her darker complexion, but made me look like I’d been eating too many cherry pixy stix. The helpful makeup sales clerk informed her that the shade had been discontinued.
Had it been me, I would have said, okay, do you have something even remotely approaching that color? Do any of these other makeup salespeople have a color that’s the same?
Not my friend. She wasn’t leaving until she could track down one more tube of the precious burgundy lipstick, which was now worth more to her than an equivalent amount of gold. My friend had a look in her eye that suggested she might leap over the counter and seize the sales clerk by the lapel of her white lab coat if she couldn't find the lipstick. Pronto.
The clerk, a savvy woman who is probably president of Lancome now or at least one of their higher-paid executives, figured out that if she could snag one more tube of the magic burgundy, she’d have a very satisfied customer who would be eager to shell out hundreds of dollars in additional makeup and perfume purchases. She contacted the distributor, called my friend a week later, and once again, there was burgundy lipstick.
At least that’s the way I remember it. The lesson here is that we have to deal with the loss of treasured things in different ways – finding a suitable substitute (concocting your own chicken salad or buying a slightly different shade of lipstick), finding an exact replacement (why ebay was invented), or going without. Which works for awhile, but is usually best cured by a little retail therapy – or in these times, window shopping.
Arby’s employee: (Click, feedback noise) Hi, welcome to Arby’s! May I take your order? (spoken like every sentence ends in an exclamation point.)
Me: Yeah, uh, I’d like that Chicken Pecan sandwich, not the wrap, but the sandwich, you know, on that really great wheatberry bread –
Arby’s employee: We’ve taken that off the menu! (Like she was HAPPY about it.) Would you like to try our roast turkey ranch and bacon combo with curly fries and a soft drink?
Me: (About to cry and considering pulling out of the drive-thru altogether, then wondering, good grief, how many calories are in a roast turkey ranch and bacon sandwich???) Well, um, sure, but skip the fries, just give me a small Diet Pepsi. Or hemlock if you have it. (Just kidding about the hemlock! I’m not going to get suicidal over a sandwich!)
Arby’s employee: Your total is $5.31 – please drive up to the window!
Me: (sniffling trying to see through tears) Okay….
I may be exaggerating about the tears, but I sure was disappointed. That pecan chicken salad was the best thing about Arby’s, in my opinion. And it got laid off. They didn’t really give it a chance. I suppose in these economic times you’d better prove yourself worthy very quickly if you’re a new menu item. Maybe the stimulus package can bring it back….
But even if the chicken pecan salad sandwich is gone for good, it’s not as upsetting as when Lancome discontinues a favorite shade of lipstick. I’ve already searched the internet and my cookbook library (200 and counting) and have found two recipes that claim to be likenesses of my beloved chicken pecan salad. I’ll experiment with both and I’m sure I’ll concoct something delicious.
You see, a discontinued lipstick is a disappointment of a higher level, since most of us don’t have access to the manufacturers’ formulas or a lipstick laboratory. As a disclaimer here, I have to say I have never personally experienced this level of anxiety with lipstick, but once upon a time I had a friend who did.
What happened is that on one of our usual Saturday afternoon shopping expeditions we stopped at the Lancome counter at Dillard’s. My friend was excited about replacing a tube of her favorite lipstick, a deep burgundy that looked fabulous on her darker complexion, but made me look like I’d been eating too many cherry pixy stix. The helpful makeup sales clerk informed her that the shade had been discontinued.
Had it been me, I would have said, okay, do you have something even remotely approaching that color? Do any of these other makeup salespeople have a color that’s the same?
Not my friend. She wasn’t leaving until she could track down one more tube of the precious burgundy lipstick, which was now worth more to her than an equivalent amount of gold. My friend had a look in her eye that suggested she might leap over the counter and seize the sales clerk by the lapel of her white lab coat if she couldn't find the lipstick. Pronto.
The clerk, a savvy woman who is probably president of Lancome now or at least one of their higher-paid executives, figured out that if she could snag one more tube of the magic burgundy, she’d have a very satisfied customer who would be eager to shell out hundreds of dollars in additional makeup and perfume purchases. She contacted the distributor, called my friend a week later, and once again, there was burgundy lipstick.
At least that’s the way I remember it. The lesson here is that we have to deal with the loss of treasured things in different ways – finding a suitable substitute (concocting your own chicken salad or buying a slightly different shade of lipstick), finding an exact replacement (why ebay was invented), or going without. Which works for awhile, but is usually best cured by a little retail therapy – or in these times, window shopping.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Techno Trauma
“The easier technology makes our lives the more complicated they become.”
Doesn’t that sound profound? I made it up.
Here in the nerve center also known as my home office I have access to a galaxy of information and ways to use it. I’m more connected to knowledge, people, and tools than ever before. Twenty-five years ago if I wanted to interview someone and broadcast the video for others to see, I needed an expensive camera, recorder, and editing system. Today all I need is a Flip camera and simple editing software.
I sat down at my keyboard much the way world class organist Diane Bish sits down at her keyboards prior to a concert – confident! Expert! Delighted! Luckily for Ms. Bish (who graduated from East High here in Wichita) she has much more experience and far fewer frustrations.
Frustration #1: the audio was low. Even after cranking up every setting I could find. I thought about the afternoon I conducted the interview and my subject. Was the sound too low? (Not sure). Is he just a soft-spoken person? (Not really). Is low audio a defective quality of the Flip? (Not likely).
Frustration #2: I transferred the video from the Flip to the computer and stored it using the software that came with the Flip. But their editing software was too rudimentary and I decided to edit in Windows Media Player instead.
What I found was this: a video in Flip became a .jpg in Windows Media Player. I couldn’t figure out how to make it work and lost patience searching the web for an answer. So I wrote to some of my colleagues and asked them for the answer. I hope they can help.
Years ago we had a great excuse for not making videos on our computers. We couldn’t! If we went to Yellowstone Park and videotaped the family waiting for Old Faithful, well, our audience had to sit through several minutes of nothing before finally seeing the geyser erupt. This was a great time to restock our sodas and popcorn, or, if the movies were really dull, make another Margarita and grab another handful of chips.
Similarly, if we left the house and went to a movie, people who wanted to reach us on the phone HAD TO WAIT until we got home, or, if we were ahead of the techno-curve, leave a message on our answering machines.
My point is this: we have technology (convenient) but we pay a price when it doesn’t work (lots of teeth-gritting).
Which is why you should have a close personal friend or significant other in the technology business, so the two of you can be frustrated together. It’s during those moments of tension when the best solution is to go low-tech: turn off the television, computer, DVD player and cell phone, pour a glass of your favorite adult beverage, perhaps a crisp Chardonnay with pear notes, prepare an accompanying platter of light snacks, and engage in the uncomplicated but potentially highly rewarding lost art of conversing with one another. Because one-to-one is still a connection technology really can’t improve upon.
Doesn’t that sound profound? I made it up.
Here in the nerve center also known as my home office I have access to a galaxy of information and ways to use it. I’m more connected to knowledge, people, and tools than ever before. Twenty-five years ago if I wanted to interview someone and broadcast the video for others to see, I needed an expensive camera, recorder, and editing system. Today all I need is a Flip camera and simple editing software.
I sat down at my keyboard much the way world class organist Diane Bish sits down at her keyboards prior to a concert – confident! Expert! Delighted! Luckily for Ms. Bish (who graduated from East High here in Wichita) she has much more experience and far fewer frustrations.
Frustration #1: the audio was low. Even after cranking up every setting I could find. I thought about the afternoon I conducted the interview and my subject. Was the sound too low? (Not sure). Is he just a soft-spoken person? (Not really). Is low audio a defective quality of the Flip? (Not likely).
Frustration #2: I transferred the video from the Flip to the computer and stored it using the software that came with the Flip. But their editing software was too rudimentary and I decided to edit in Windows Media Player instead.
What I found was this: a video in Flip became a .jpg in Windows Media Player. I couldn’t figure out how to make it work and lost patience searching the web for an answer. So I wrote to some of my colleagues and asked them for the answer. I hope they can help.
Years ago we had a great excuse for not making videos on our computers. We couldn’t! If we went to Yellowstone Park and videotaped the family waiting for Old Faithful, well, our audience had to sit through several minutes of nothing before finally seeing the geyser erupt. This was a great time to restock our sodas and popcorn, or, if the movies were really dull, make another Margarita and grab another handful of chips.
Similarly, if we left the house and went to a movie, people who wanted to reach us on the phone HAD TO WAIT until we got home, or, if we were ahead of the techno-curve, leave a message on our answering machines.
My point is this: we have technology (convenient) but we pay a price when it doesn’t work (lots of teeth-gritting).
Which is why you should have a close personal friend or significant other in the technology business, so the two of you can be frustrated together. It’s during those moments of tension when the best solution is to go low-tech: turn off the television, computer, DVD player and cell phone, pour a glass of your favorite adult beverage, perhaps a crisp Chardonnay with pear notes, prepare an accompanying platter of light snacks, and engage in the uncomplicated but potentially highly rewarding lost art of conversing with one another. Because one-to-one is still a connection technology really can’t improve upon.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Hunkering Down
A blizzard tomorrow? Sounds like an April Fool's joke. C'mon, it's late March! The redbuds are blooming, the daffodils are waving in the wind....spring officially arrived last week!
But the weather guys are serious. My favorite meteorologist, Mike Smith, was quoted today in the Wichita Eagle saying, "This could rival the biggest snow we've ever had in Wichita."
You know I'll do almost anything to get out of mowing the lawn, but I did NOT pray for a blizzard. I would have been happy with drenching spring rains.
Here in Wichita, we could get a foot of snow. Cities and towns west of us have already declared tomorrow a snow day. A person posting on Twitter said his in-laws couldn't get past Colby on their way to Keystone, Colorado. Late this afternoon people stopped by the Dillons Marketplace at Central and Rock to stock up. I was one of them.
I didn't need much. I already feel prepared to weather the storm, with nine jars of salsa, Progresso soup (only 1 Weight Watchers point per serving!), an assortment of crackers, Lean Cuisine, and spaghetti sauce. I figured all I needed was some salad fixins and some veggie burgers for tomorrow (it's Lent). The wine cellar is ready to be pressed into service if necessary, with an assortment of velvety Cabernets. Should I tire of those, an assortment of lightly fruited Chardonnays awaits.
But that's just the beginning. I also have four bags of split peas, some wagon wheel pasta, lentils, tomato paste, a five-pound bag of rice, a jar of bay leaves, and three large cans of diced tomatoes. These are left over from an ill-fated attempt at Christmas to create "friendship soup" jars to give as gifts to family and friends. Putting together cute little jars of layered soup ingredients topped with a festive piece of holiday cloth proved to be too daunting a task during an already overscheduled time of year. Thus I returned the raw materials to my pantry where they currently occupy a great deal of real estate, crowding out the salsa.
Being prepared to withstand the elements does not end with a well-stocked pantry. In the event of a power outage I have a flashlight and a package of extra batteries. If only I could find them. I may have covered them up with the split peas.
Most important, should the heat go out, I have warmth in the form of two thick down comforters. Just thinking about wrapping up in them and reading a book while sitting next to a crackling fire makes me almost want to dare Mother Nature to do her worst.
But I don't believe in tempting fate. I'll expect the best, prepare for the worst, and see what happens.
Just know this: should you become stranded in east Wichita, I have a large basement, dozens of DVDs, and a well-stocked wine cellar. And I can whip up a batch of split-pea/lentil/tomato/pasta soup seasoned with bay leaves faster than you can say 'Frosty the Snowman.'
But the weather guys are serious. My favorite meteorologist, Mike Smith, was quoted today in the Wichita Eagle saying, "This could rival the biggest snow we've ever had in Wichita."
You know I'll do almost anything to get out of mowing the lawn, but I did NOT pray for a blizzard. I would have been happy with drenching spring rains.
Here in Wichita, we could get a foot of snow. Cities and towns west of us have already declared tomorrow a snow day. A person posting on Twitter said his in-laws couldn't get past Colby on their way to Keystone, Colorado. Late this afternoon people stopped by the Dillons Marketplace at Central and Rock to stock up. I was one of them.
I didn't need much. I already feel prepared to weather the storm, with nine jars of salsa, Progresso soup (only 1 Weight Watchers point per serving!), an assortment of crackers, Lean Cuisine, and spaghetti sauce. I figured all I needed was some salad fixins and some veggie burgers for tomorrow (it's Lent). The wine cellar is ready to be pressed into service if necessary, with an assortment of velvety Cabernets. Should I tire of those, an assortment of lightly fruited Chardonnays awaits.
But that's just the beginning. I also have four bags of split peas, some wagon wheel pasta, lentils, tomato paste, a five-pound bag of rice, a jar of bay leaves, and three large cans of diced tomatoes. These are left over from an ill-fated attempt at Christmas to create "friendship soup" jars to give as gifts to family and friends. Putting together cute little jars of layered soup ingredients topped with a festive piece of holiday cloth proved to be too daunting a task during an already overscheduled time of year. Thus I returned the raw materials to my pantry where they currently occupy a great deal of real estate, crowding out the salsa.
Being prepared to withstand the elements does not end with a well-stocked pantry. In the event of a power outage I have a flashlight and a package of extra batteries. If only I could find them. I may have covered them up with the split peas.
Most important, should the heat go out, I have warmth in the form of two thick down comforters. Just thinking about wrapping up in them and reading a book while sitting next to a crackling fire makes me almost want to dare Mother Nature to do her worst.
But I don't believe in tempting fate. I'll expect the best, prepare for the worst, and see what happens.
Just know this: should you become stranded in east Wichita, I have a large basement, dozens of DVDs, and a well-stocked wine cellar. And I can whip up a batch of split-pea/lentil/tomato/pasta soup seasoned with bay leaves faster than you can say 'Frosty the Snowman.'
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Back on the Blog
It's been awhile.
I'm sorry.
Sometimes things happen. Things like people you care about who are hell-bent on self-destruction despite your best efforts to talk them out of it. Things like stupidity, cupidity, and duplicity, for starters.
But I'm ready to put those things in a drawer, close it, and get back to having some fun.
I took the momentous step of creating a Facebook account today. I have been unwilling up to now to expose myself that way, but a reality check revealed that I'm already google-able, through my job and this blog. So I might as well get with the 21st century and join my many friends, colleagues, alums, and even family members who are already 'facebooking.'
I have to admit, I was a bit unsure how to get started. For one thing, I couldn't remember if it was 'Spacebook' or 'My Face' I was supposed to sign up for. Once I leaped over that hurdle, I had to ask myself how much time I am willing to spend on this activity. Every minute I spend online is a minute I take myself away from such exciting suburban activities as vacuuming, cleaning toilets, thinking about mowing the lawn (but not actually doing it, not yet, come on, it's March!), clothing management (going through the closets and coming to grips with reality about certain sentimental, but hardly practical, articles of clothing), and sorting through paper.
Paper, the bane of my existence. Bills paid, bills due, newspapers read, newspapers yet to read, recipes I will cook someday as long as I live to be 150, magazines about health and fitness and new ways to firm up my abs in six weeks, travel alerts about exotic destinations with sunny climates where truckers won't blow off the road the way they did here in Kansas a couple of days ago (seriously), and news briefings about the economy, politics, famous people, and other topics that give me indigestion.
I'd like to make a giant sweep through my house and clear it of the receipts for tax purposes, medical forms, terms of agreement, meeting handouts, the latest version of my will, email attachments, quirky news articles, and notes to self scribbled on whatever blank square of paper I could find at the moment (here's one: Crunchless Abs video, 1-800-678-5905), how-to-use guide for Microsoft wireless mouse that doesn't work (thanks, Microsoft!). If I transferred most of this stuff to a Dumpster I am certain my house would rise at least an inch from its foundation purely from shedding the weight.
Ah, but it's not that easy. Each piece of paper represents information, sometimes worth its weight in gold. The receipt for a pair of $20 reading glasses purchased in desperation on a trip out of town means cash at the end of the year when I have a few dollars left in my flex fund. The recipe for spicy lemon shrimp has the potential to make me look like Martha Stewart the next time I want to entertain. The Metro Map of Washington DC - well, I plan to go back soon and I'll take the map with me. For less than $10 a day you can go almost anywhere, if you're willing to walk some and negotiate a few turnstiles.
It's a weighty decision, paper or cyberspace. In either case, though, it's about more stuff in the in box and figuring out good ways to streamline it. Regardless, I'm looking forward to it. Because it's just stuff. And stuff is mostly nothing, which is what this blog is truly all about.
I'm sorry.
Sometimes things happen. Things like people you care about who are hell-bent on self-destruction despite your best efforts to talk them out of it. Things like stupidity, cupidity, and duplicity, for starters.
But I'm ready to put those things in a drawer, close it, and get back to having some fun.
I took the momentous step of creating a Facebook account today. I have been unwilling up to now to expose myself that way, but a reality check revealed that I'm already google-able, through my job and this blog. So I might as well get with the 21st century and join my many friends, colleagues, alums, and even family members who are already 'facebooking.'
I have to admit, I was a bit unsure how to get started. For one thing, I couldn't remember if it was 'Spacebook' or 'My Face' I was supposed to sign up for. Once I leaped over that hurdle, I had to ask myself how much time I am willing to spend on this activity. Every minute I spend online is a minute I take myself away from such exciting suburban activities as vacuuming, cleaning toilets, thinking about mowing the lawn (but not actually doing it, not yet, come on, it's March!), clothing management (going through the closets and coming to grips with reality about certain sentimental, but hardly practical, articles of clothing), and sorting through paper.
Paper, the bane of my existence. Bills paid, bills due, newspapers read, newspapers yet to read, recipes I will cook someday as long as I live to be 150, magazines about health and fitness and new ways to firm up my abs in six weeks, travel alerts about exotic destinations with sunny climates where truckers won't blow off the road the way they did here in Kansas a couple of days ago (seriously), and news briefings about the economy, politics, famous people, and other topics that give me indigestion.
I'd like to make a giant sweep through my house and clear it of the receipts for tax purposes, medical forms, terms of agreement, meeting handouts, the latest version of my will, email attachments, quirky news articles, and notes to self scribbled on whatever blank square of paper I could find at the moment (here's one: Crunchless Abs video, 1-800-678-5905), how-to-use guide for Microsoft wireless mouse that doesn't work (thanks, Microsoft!). If I transferred most of this stuff to a Dumpster I am certain my house would rise at least an inch from its foundation purely from shedding the weight.
Ah, but it's not that easy. Each piece of paper represents information, sometimes worth its weight in gold. The receipt for a pair of $20 reading glasses purchased in desperation on a trip out of town means cash at the end of the year when I have a few dollars left in my flex fund. The recipe for spicy lemon shrimp has the potential to make me look like Martha Stewart the next time I want to entertain. The Metro Map of Washington DC - well, I plan to go back soon and I'll take the map with me. For less than $10 a day you can go almost anywhere, if you're willing to walk some and negotiate a few turnstiles.
It's a weighty decision, paper or cyberspace. In either case, though, it's about more stuff in the in box and figuring out good ways to streamline it. Regardless, I'm looking forward to it. Because it's just stuff. And stuff is mostly nothing, which is what this blog is truly all about.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
