Eating Healthy, Part 1

July 10

I’ve recently come under the care of Chip, an absolutely lovely nutritionist at Body Dynamics in Falls Church. I love Chip even though he’s a dancer who told me with no irony at all that he felt guilty because he ate a piece of pizza A FEW DAYS AGO; I love him because he is more interested in my zinc (low) and pH levels (also low) than he is in my weight (“It’s just a number”), and no one else has ever even told me I HAD zinc levels to wonder at.

Now I’m eating pumpkin seeds to help. How curious. (It was either that or raw oysters, which – ew.)

Anyway, one of the things Chip told me to do was to buy my dairy at Whole Foods (which I still call Fresh Fields); I was to look for a brand called Trickling Springs.

Now, I find that name rather disgusting; it sounds like something that might happen in a Russian bordello. But I’ve tried ‘Turkey Hill’ ice cream and it did NOT taste like the droppings of large birds, so I realize I need to get over my distaste based on what some mythical farmer named his mythical farm.

“Why Trickling Springs, Chip?”

“All their cows are grass-fed, so they don’t need to pasteurize the milk as much.”

“I thought pasteurization was a GOOD thing. One of those advancements of modern society.”

“Some pasteurization is a great thing. But if your cows are kept in feed sheds and fed antibiotics, then you have to pasteurize the milk so intensely that you pretty much lose the nutritional value.”

“Get out!”


Well, there you go. Okay – off I went to Fresh Fields – sorry, Whole Foods – to buy pumpkin seeds and Trickling Springs.

A troll was stocking the dairy case. I don’t mean to be mean, but he was actually a troll. Short, stocky, curly hair, darkness in a cloud around him; either painfully shy or actually surly. Let’s hope for shy.

“Excuse me – do you have dairy products from Trickling Springs?”

His trollish nose wrinkled at the name as mine had. “What?” he grunted.

“Trickling Springs?” I was beginning to lose my enthusiasm.

“Neverheardofit.” He turned back to being elbow-deep in the goat yogurt.

“Oh thank God,” I thought. “That name really is disgusting. Now I can go back to eating my whole-fat, unsweetened Dannon from Giant Foods, which is more convenient and cheaper.”

I was in the frozen food aisle seeking out Ezekiel bread. (Chip was quite firm about Ezekiel bread. It’s sprouted, you know.) (What??) (Yes – they let the wheat germ sprout before they make it into flour which does miraculous things to the nutritional value, or something like that; I didn’t quite understand that one as well, but I dutifully bought frozen bread. It turns out to be nutty and pleasant and not at all annoying. I can live with it.)

So I was seeking the Ezekiel – as you do – and there was the ice cream case, so I gave it a gander. Because – Ben and Jerry’s Oats Of This Swirled, obviously.

And what did I see?


They make ice cream.

So I bought it. And ate it. A vanilla, smooth and creamy and tasting not at all of any kind of pasteurization (because what would that taste like anyway??) and featuring huge slabs of chocolate – I mean like paving stones of chocolate, dark – rich – sweet – salted chocolate. MY GOD, good nutrition is delicious.

And I don’t feel guilty. I had to get it. My nutritionist said.

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