The moment you touch down at McCarran International Airport, your senses are overwhelmed by the sights, sounds and smells of Las Vegas. The sights and sounds are provided by the rows of slot machines incessantly flashing and dinging in the terminal.
The smells are courtesy of fast food, of simple carbs and grease. When hungry, these are some of the most compelling smells in the world. They promise cheap, fast, easy calories. No matter how well we eat, no matter how dedicated we are to our diet, we freely admit that these smells still give us the classic Pavlovian drool response. And Las Vegas’ McCarran Airport ups the stench factor higher than anywhere else we have ever been. Some of these smells were so powerful that we wondered if the cooking fans were vented directly into the terminal. It is for times like this that we try to live by the following:
The smells are courtesy of fast food, of simple carbs and grease. When hungry, these are some of the most compelling smells in the world. They promise cheap, fast, easy calories. No matter how well we eat, no matter how dedicated we are to our diet, we freely admit that these smells still give us the classic Pavlovian drool response. And Las Vegas’ McCarran Airport ups the stench factor higher than anywhere else we have ever been. Some of these smells were so powerful that we wondered if the cooking fans were vented directly into the terminal. It is for times like this that we try to live by the following:
Rule: Never land hungry.
“Never land hungry” is the first rule of Drink Your Carbs travel. It was also the first rule we violated. We worked out the morning before our flight and somehow miscalculated how much time it would take to get back home, finish packing and leave for the airport. We made the flight with plenty of time to spare, but we had to skip lunch in order to do so. Ideally, we would have filled one of our carry-on bags with healthy snacks. But this too was thrown aside in the rush.
Eating food provided by the airline was out of the question. The calories in in-flight meals come almost entirely from simple carbohydrates. We have long maintained that if you are going to break the rules at least break them for something worthwhile. The best in-flight meals fail to meet even the low standards of a high school cafeteria. It is as though the airlines deliberately tasked a team of food scientists to create a Hungry Man Dinner knockoff with twice the calories and half the pleasure.
We were ravenous when we landed.
Neither of us is good at being hungry. Andrea’s patience vanishes. Her patience for things slow or incompetent is never particularly high, but when she is hungry she has no tolerance at all. As her blood sugar drops, she transforms from her mild-mannered self to Mike Tyson trying to bite your ear off.
Steven is no better. If not fed, he tends to throw temper tantrums like a two-year-old in the cereal aisle. His head drops. His shoulders slump. His walk slows to a reluctant shuffle. In short, when Steven is hungry he becomes everything that makes a hungry Andrea explode.
After years of marriage we have learned to manage these situations by recognizing them and steering ourselves toward food. Only one of the two of us typically recognizes the situation. The other is too deeply in the grip of a hypoglycemic fit. This may be one of the great arguments in favor of partnering for life. When one of you is stuck in an irrational pit of hunger-induced despair, the other person usually stays rational enough to search for food. Furthermore, it is our experience that even if food isn’t present, as long as we know we will eat at some point relatively soon, we can temper the worse of our behaviors.
As we landed in Vegas, Andrea took charge.
“We are not stopping in the airport,” she said. “Keep moving and I promise we‘ll eat before we get to the hotel.”
Steven’s moping slowed us only a little as we cut across Vegas toward our first Drink Your Carbs meal at In-n-Out Burger.
Eating food provided by the airline was out of the question. The calories in in-flight meals come almost entirely from simple carbohydrates. We have long maintained that if you are going to break the rules at least break them for something worthwhile. The best in-flight meals fail to meet even the low standards of a high school cafeteria. It is as though the airlines deliberately tasked a team of food scientists to create a Hungry Man Dinner knockoff with twice the calories and half the pleasure.
We were ravenous when we landed.
Neither of us is good at being hungry. Andrea’s patience vanishes. Her patience for things slow or incompetent is never particularly high, but when she is hungry she has no tolerance at all. As her blood sugar drops, she transforms from her mild-mannered self to Mike Tyson trying to bite your ear off.
Steven is no better. If not fed, he tends to throw temper tantrums like a two-year-old in the cereal aisle. His head drops. His shoulders slump. His walk slows to a reluctant shuffle. In short, when Steven is hungry he becomes everything that makes a hungry Andrea explode.
After years of marriage we have learned to manage these situations by recognizing them and steering ourselves toward food. Only one of the two of us typically recognizes the situation. The other is too deeply in the grip of a hypoglycemic fit. This may be one of the great arguments in favor of partnering for life. When one of you is stuck in an irrational pit of hunger-induced despair, the other person usually stays rational enough to search for food. Furthermore, it is our experience that even if food isn’t present, as long as we know we will eat at some point relatively soon, we can temper the worse of our behaviors.
As we landed in Vegas, Andrea took charge.
“We are not stopping in the airport,” she said. “Keep moving and I promise we‘ll eat before we get to the hotel.”
Steven’s moping slowed us only a little as we cut across Vegas toward our first Drink Your Carbs meal at In-n-Out Burger.
Fact: When traveling, food is always a series of compromises.
We are not fans of fast food. The quality is as low as the calories are high. Next time you are in a fast-food restaurant, look at how much of the kitchen space is dedicated to fryers. This should tell you everything you need to know. While it is true that McDonald’s and Burger King have added salads to their menu, boxed salads get about two square feet of shelf space while a full third of the kitchen is dedicated to cranking out fried food.
The only conclusion to draw is that McDonald’s and Burger King keep a few salads on display behind the counter as window dressing, to give the impression that they care about your health. Clearly no one orders them and they add no revenue to the bottom line. We wouldn’t be surprised if they are eventually replaced with the same kind of plastic food that is on display in the windows of Japanese noodle shops.
The only conclusion to draw is that McDonald’s and Burger King keep a few salads on display behind the counter as window dressing, to give the impression that they care about your health. Clearly no one orders them and they add no revenue to the bottom line. We wouldn’t be surprised if they are eventually replaced with the same kind of plastic food that is on display in the windows of Japanese noodle shops.
Fact: Wendy’s Baja Salad clocks in at 740 calories, 47 grams of fat and 1,990 milligrams of sodium. This would be a travesty if anyone had ever ordered one.
In defense of fast food, it is, true to its description, fast and readily available. For this reason, we all occasionally find ourselves eating it. The key to the Drink Your Carbs lifestyle is finding ways to eat at these restaurants without completely blowing your diet. There is no excuse for hitting Carl’s Junior and gorging on 2,000 calories of French fries and artificial-strawberry milkshakes. Super sizing your meal might seem prudent because the additional 1,200 calories cost only pennies more, but find a way to resist. The goal of any trip into a fast food chain is to eat just enough to sustain yourself until you can find decent food later, and to do so without blowing all of the calories you are planning to drink later that night.
The way we manage fast food is to walk in with the full intent of sticking to Drink Your Carbs. As we crack the door and the smell of grease wafts out, we have been known to repeat the words, “We are going to drink our carbs,” over and over like the chant at the end of a yoga class. This does not mean that we are planning to order beer with lunch. We mean that no matter what delicious bargains are offered on the Dollar Menu, we are sticking to the rules of Drink Your Carbs. In this case, our grand entrance sounded more like:
The way we manage fast food is to walk in with the full intent of sticking to Drink Your Carbs. As we crack the door and the smell of grease wafts out, we have been known to repeat the words, “We are going to drink our carbs,” over and over like the chant at the end of a yoga class. This does not mean that we are planning to order beer with lunch. We mean that no matter what delicious bargains are offered on the Dollar Menu, we are sticking to the rules of Drink Your Carbs. In this case, our grand entrance sounded more like:
Steven: “I don’t care anymore. I don’t even want a burger.”
Andrea: “Stop it. You’re just hungry.”
Steven: “I’m not hungry. I’m fine.”
Andrea: “Just shut up, I’m ordering you a double hamburger, protein style.”
Steven: “Whatever.”
Most fast-food restaurants have options that work with Drink Your Carbs. In-N-Out Burger makes it particularly easy. Any burger can be ordered “protein style,” which replaces the bun with large pieces of iceberg lettuce. It’s a burger salad served in the style of an ice-cream sandwich. Is cold lettuce really a satisfying replacement for a toasted bun? No, but skipping the bun is not that great a loss. More importantly, skipping the bun saved us 150 calories each, which we knew we would need later when we hit our first casino bar.
We matched our “protein style” burgers with plain iced tea. We skipped the fries. It was a small meal by any measure, but it served its purpose. It gave us the lift needed to check into our hotel, unpack our bags and head downstairs for a mid-afternoon snack at the tapas bar in the City Center Casino.
City Center looks like Superman’s Fortress of Solitude as envisioned by an eight-year-old with an Erector Set. While the design came from a fancy architect and cost just shy of $10 billion to build, the exterior looks unfinished. The interior is more coherent, assuming that it was intentionally built to mimic a hamster Habitrail.
We matched our “protein style” burgers with plain iced tea. We skipped the fries. It was a small meal by any measure, but it served its purpose. It gave us the lift needed to check into our hotel, unpack our bags and head downstairs for a mid-afternoon snack at the tapas bar in the City Center Casino.
City Center looks like Superman’s Fortress of Solitude as envisioned by an eight-year-old with an Erector Set. While the design came from a fancy architect and cost just shy of $10 billion to build, the exterior looks unfinished. The interior is more coherent, assuming that it was intentionally built to mimic a hamster Habitrail.
Fact: The greatest architectural minds in the world have conspired to ensure that once you are inside a hotel casino you cannot find your way back out. A side effect of this type of design is that it is equally impossible to find your way through a casino or to find anything inside a casino. This is just fine with the architects as long as it keeps you lost among the slot machines.
The Spanish tapas bar, Julian Serrano, is located in the front of City Center, so it took us nearly 20 minutes to find.
Andrea: “I think we’ve been through here already.”
Steven: “I don’t think so.”
Andrea: “I recognize that old lady.
Steven: “You’re sure?”
Andrea: “Watch her for a second. She’ll take a drink from her daiquiri without taking the cigarette out of her mouth. She kind of swings it to the side.”
Steven: “Fair enough. Your turn to lead.”
Julian Serrano is a restaurant scaled to its surroundings. The space is huge and dark. The ceilings are cavernous. The tables seem to go on forever. Large, exterior windows do nothing to brighten the space. The restaurant somehow maintains a late-night ambiance even in the early afternoon.
Fact: The American Institute of Architects has done itself a huge disservice not granting Julian Serrano an award for Masterful Use of Window Tint.
The menu was just as difficult as we had hoped. We chose tapas because they pose a significant dietary challenge. We could have gone for sushi; as long as you focus on sashimi and avoid tempura, sushi is one of the easiest foods to eat on Drink Your Carbs. We decided instead to begin the trip by testing our will power. Spanish food is difficult on Drink Your Carbs because carbs are staples of the diet. Rice, potatoes and bread are ubiquitous. The menu at Julian Serrano was no exception. The paella, which is a Spanish name for a giant pile of rice with saffron and mixed seafood, looked incredible. As did the patatas bravas, which is comprised of fried potatoes smothered in spicy mayonnaise.
We ordered a bottle of wine as soon as our waiter greeted us. “You really should consider the sangria,” he replied.
Steven took the lead. “We’re in Vegas for a Drink Your Carbs weekend. Mixers are strictly forbidden.”
“There are no mixers in our Sangria.”
All sangria is some combination of wine, fruit juice, some variety of sweet liquor or brandy and frequently, simple syrup. His personal definition of “mixer” must have been as limited as ours is broad. “We appreciate the offer,” Steven replied, “but we’ll stick with the white. Also, please do not bring any bread. We don’t need it.”
We ordered a bottle of wine as soon as our waiter greeted us. “You really should consider the sangria,” he replied.
Steven took the lead. “We’re in Vegas for a Drink Your Carbs weekend. Mixers are strictly forbidden.”
“There are no mixers in our Sangria.”
All sangria is some combination of wine, fruit juice, some variety of sweet liquor or brandy and frequently, simple syrup. His personal definition of “mixer” must have been as limited as ours is broad. “We appreciate the offer,” Steven replied, “but we’ll stick with the white. Also, please do not bring any bread. We don’t need it.”
Rule: Never let the server bring bread to your table. Letting a breadbasket sit on your table is the equivalent of a recovering heroin addict allowing a friend to store morphine in his refrigerator.
We stuck largely to meat and vegetables. This is not to say we were perfect or that we successfully avoided all simple carbs. Again, when traveling, food is a series of compromises. The chorizo turned out to be paired with small, boiled potatoes, but instead of rejecting the dish, we simply left most of them behind. The shrimp bubbling in garlic and olive oil presented a bit of a quandary in that it could very much be considered deep-fried, given that the shrimp was about waist high in oil, but we ordered it anyway after confirming that is was not breaded. It is worth remembering that most diners who order similar dishes sop up every drop of oil with baguettes. Simply avoiding the bread and the excess sauce can easily eliminate 500 calories with minimal impact on a dining experience. These are the types of compromises that make Drink Your Carbs work.
Fact: If you need motivation to stay on your diet in Las Vegas, just look around.
We were immediately reminded of why we are so strict with our diets the moment we found our way back through the casino and out onto the Strip. It was late afternoon. The lights of the hotels were in full bloom. The sidewalks were jam-packed with human traffic meandering at an impossibly slow pace. Nearly everyone on the street was obese. It was even more shocking to see how many of these people had, hanging from nylon cords around their necks, huge souvenir glasses filled with brightly colored daiquiris.
We tried to figure out how many calories are in a daiquiri served from a repurposed Slurpee machine into a four-foot plastic replica of the Eiffel Tower. Our best estimate is well over half of the calories any reasonable person should consume in a single day.
We tried to figure out how many calories are in a daiquiri served from a repurposed Slurpee machine into a four-foot plastic replica of the Eiffel Tower. Our best estimate is well over half of the calories any reasonable person should consume in a single day.
Rule: A drink that comes with a souvenir cup is automatically disqualified from Drink Your Carbs.
Vegas-Specific Rule: If you want to avoid the crowds just take the stairs.
We ducked into the Bellagio for a quick drink, both to get away from the crowds and to take a moment to digest some of what we saw on the Strip. There was one man in particular who stood out to both of us. He was so large that he was having difficulty walking. His knees no longer bent under his weight, so he moved by swinging his legs around side of him as though he were on painter’s stilts. Around his neck hung a souvenir glass from the Hard Rock Café molded into the shape of a plastic guitar. The glass was almost as big as a full-size Fender Stratocaster. It was filled with thick blue liquid. When the man was not sucking on his cigarette, he slurped the blue liquid through a two-foot straw.
Andrea ordered a glass of rosé wine. Steven ordered a pint of Guinness. The rosé had been opened for too long. It tasted a little like the refrigerator it was stored in. The Guinness was fine. We did not see it poured, but from its lack of thickness Steven guessed that it came from a can. We toasted to another round of mixer-free drinks, and wondered aloud if that man on the street was intentionally trying to kill himself. He was unquestionably in the process of committing suicide. The only question was whether he was doing it on purpose.
“It’s got to be intentional,” Steven said. “Look at it this way. Imagine being that guy’s doctor. He comes to you and says, ‘I’m trying to commit suicide in a socially acceptable way and I need some ideas for how I can speed the process up, how I can kill myself faster.’ I don’t think I could help him. Every suggestion I could offer, he’s already doing. He smokes. He clearly doesn’t exercise. We’ve seen his taste in booze. I can’t imagine his diet gets better from there. It has to be deliberate because he is being so thorough. If he asked me ‘Is there anything I could do to speed up my death?’ I’d have nothing for him. I’d tell him to keep up the good work.”
We cancelled our reservation at some fancy Italian place at the Wynn and instead opted for sashimi at a nearby sushi bar. Sometimes, you just need a role model to convince yourself that you’re on the right path.
Still a little hazy from all of the wine and saké, we dragged our butts down to the gym the next morning and did an hour of speed work on the treadmill. We wouldn’t normally work out quite that hard on vacation, but we knew that later that night would be our big, blow-out meal. We needed to feel that we earned the right to eat it.
Andrea ordered a glass of rosé wine. Steven ordered a pint of Guinness. The rosé had been opened for too long. It tasted a little like the refrigerator it was stored in. The Guinness was fine. We did not see it poured, but from its lack of thickness Steven guessed that it came from a can. We toasted to another round of mixer-free drinks, and wondered aloud if that man on the street was intentionally trying to kill himself. He was unquestionably in the process of committing suicide. The only question was whether he was doing it on purpose.
“It’s got to be intentional,” Steven said. “Look at it this way. Imagine being that guy’s doctor. He comes to you and says, ‘I’m trying to commit suicide in a socially acceptable way and I need some ideas for how I can speed the process up, how I can kill myself faster.’ I don’t think I could help him. Every suggestion I could offer, he’s already doing. He smokes. He clearly doesn’t exercise. We’ve seen his taste in booze. I can’t imagine his diet gets better from there. It has to be deliberate because he is being so thorough. If he asked me ‘Is there anything I could do to speed up my death?’ I’d have nothing for him. I’d tell him to keep up the good work.”
We cancelled our reservation at some fancy Italian place at the Wynn and instead opted for sashimi at a nearby sushi bar. Sometimes, you just need a role model to convince yourself that you’re on the right path.
Still a little hazy from all of the wine and saké, we dragged our butts down to the gym the next morning and did an hour of speed work on the treadmill. We wouldn’t normally work out quite that hard on vacation, but we knew that later that night would be our big, blow-out meal. We needed to feel that we earned the right to eat it.
Rule: For every big meal you have on vacation, do one intense workout in the hotel gym. This effectively limits the number of big meals you eat because no one wants to spend their holiday doing two-a-days.
The other reason that we decided to run hard was that if we had not been able to complete a tough workout, we would’ve had to cut back on our drinking. Since neither of us wanted to face this possibility in Vegas, we faked a smile and ran hard. Only afterward did either of us admit how difficult that run had been.
[Editor’s Note: Seriously? These two are the Johnny Knoxville of health and fitness. No way Legal is going to rubber stamp a recommendation that people workout hung over. We’ll be sued by some idiot who flies off the back of a treadmill still drunk from the night before. At a minimum we need one of those drug-ad disclaimers: “Ask your doctor: ‘Is working out hung over right for me?’”]
There is a certain feeling of triumph that comes from walking into a restaurant still dripping sweat and stinking from the gym. This is doubly true in Las Vegas. As we stepped into the hotel café for breakfast after the workout, we could see panic spread across the hostess’ face. Her eyes darted back and forth from our sweat-soaked t-shirts to her seating chart. She was obviously doing spatial geometry in her head, trying to figure out which table would place us the absolute furthest from ruining other diners’ experiences. It was an impossible task in a full restaurant. She finally settled on a small table near the back, sandwiching us between an older man in a Sean Jean sweatsuit that had clearly never seen sweat and a young couple still dressed for evening cocktails. Neither party looked particularly pleased to see us.
When eating out, we tend to spy on what other people are eating and drinking. Sean Jean sweatsuit was not a small guy and he was working his way through a huge stack of pancakes topped with a scoop of butter the size of a baseball. The couple on the other side, clearly reaching the end of a long night on the town, were both quite trim. The man was well dressed in jeans and a fitted gray t-shirt. The woman wore a classic little black dress cut well above mid-thigh. They were sharing the remainder of an egg white omelet and nursing the last of a bottle of champagne. Clearly they were adherents to Drink Your Carbs, even if they didn’t know it yet. We were so impressed that we mimicked their order, except for the champagne. We drank black coffee in deference to the fact that, while they were ending their day, we were starting ours.
We considered spending the day in a casino underneath the haze of secondhand smoke. We rejected the idea when we looked outside our hotel window and realized that the sun was shining without a cloud in the sky. We grabbed books and headed downstairs to find a shady patch alongside the pool.
It has been argued that it’s a mistake to think that just because you worked out in the morning, that you’ve earned the right to sit around doing nothing for the rest of the day. It’s based on the idea that you undo the benefits of the exercise by spending fewer calories then you would have on a typical day. We respectfully disagree. As long as we work out in the morning - and avoid all the mixed drinks and deep-fried goodness on the menu from the poolside bar - we are perfectly happy to lounge. The difference between the calories we would have spent in a casino and the calories we did spend poolside is too minimal to concern us. So we spent our day relaxing. We barely had to move. They brought a lunch of burger salads right to our cabana.
That night was the meal for which we had been saving up our calories. We promised ourselves one big dinner where we would not obsess over every morsel. Picking the restaurant was not easy. Some of the greatest restaurants and renowned chefs from around the world have opened Las Vegas outposts. We considered a multi-course French blowout with the seal of approval of the Michelin Tire Company. We considered any one of the seemingly endless versions of high-end steak joints, but steak and broccoli is one of our standby meals so it did not feel special enough. We even considered a classic Vegas buffet, but we dismissed that idea as very likely to be not worth the calories.
We finally settled on a Thai restaurant in an off-the-strip strip mall dominated on one end by an enormous Swingers Club. We might have missed the Swingers Club, but our taxi driver took great delight in pointing it out. Our driver was clearly a fan of the place. He was shockingly specific about the décor and services offered. He kept repeating the fact that there was a couples-only area, as though this would be the selling point that would pique our interest. For the record, had we been swingers, the couples-only area would have been a complete turn off. It is safe to assume, based solely on the existence of a restricted couples-only area, that the rest of the club must be overrun with creepy single men.
“Take a brief respite from the constant, unnerving harassment,” seems to us to be a weak slogan for attracting couples; perhaps as a single man our driver missed that implication. He also seemed particularly impressed by the fact that the club had a spa where communal hot tubs bubble away like egg drop soup.
By the time we got out of the cab in front of Lotus of Siam, we both needed to wash our hands.
Lotus of Siam is both a complete dive and - as of this writing - probably the best Thai restaurant in America. The location feels vaguely unsafe. The parking lot is a little too dark. The bars on the windows of the adjacent liquor store are a little too thick. If not for the constant flow of people coming in and out of the restaurant, the place would feel downright dangerous.
When eating out, we tend to spy on what other people are eating and drinking. Sean Jean sweatsuit was not a small guy and he was working his way through a huge stack of pancakes topped with a scoop of butter the size of a baseball. The couple on the other side, clearly reaching the end of a long night on the town, were both quite trim. The man was well dressed in jeans and a fitted gray t-shirt. The woman wore a classic little black dress cut well above mid-thigh. They were sharing the remainder of an egg white omelet and nursing the last of a bottle of champagne. Clearly they were adherents to Drink Your Carbs, even if they didn’t know it yet. We were so impressed that we mimicked their order, except for the champagne. We drank black coffee in deference to the fact that, while they were ending their day, we were starting ours.
We considered spending the day in a casino underneath the haze of secondhand smoke. We rejected the idea when we looked outside our hotel window and realized that the sun was shining without a cloud in the sky. We grabbed books and headed downstairs to find a shady patch alongside the pool.
It has been argued that it’s a mistake to think that just because you worked out in the morning, that you’ve earned the right to sit around doing nothing for the rest of the day. It’s based on the idea that you undo the benefits of the exercise by spending fewer calories then you would have on a typical day. We respectfully disagree. As long as we work out in the morning - and avoid all the mixed drinks and deep-fried goodness on the menu from the poolside bar - we are perfectly happy to lounge. The difference between the calories we would have spent in a casino and the calories we did spend poolside is too minimal to concern us. So we spent our day relaxing. We barely had to move. They brought a lunch of burger salads right to our cabana.
That night was the meal for which we had been saving up our calories. We promised ourselves one big dinner where we would not obsess over every morsel. Picking the restaurant was not easy. Some of the greatest restaurants and renowned chefs from around the world have opened Las Vegas outposts. We considered a multi-course French blowout with the seal of approval of the Michelin Tire Company. We considered any one of the seemingly endless versions of high-end steak joints, but steak and broccoli is one of our standby meals so it did not feel special enough. We even considered a classic Vegas buffet, but we dismissed that idea as very likely to be not worth the calories.
We finally settled on a Thai restaurant in an off-the-strip strip mall dominated on one end by an enormous Swingers Club. We might have missed the Swingers Club, but our taxi driver took great delight in pointing it out. Our driver was clearly a fan of the place. He was shockingly specific about the décor and services offered. He kept repeating the fact that there was a couples-only area, as though this would be the selling point that would pique our interest. For the record, had we been swingers, the couples-only area would have been a complete turn off. It is safe to assume, based solely on the existence of a restricted couples-only area, that the rest of the club must be overrun with creepy single men.
“Take a brief respite from the constant, unnerving harassment,” seems to us to be a weak slogan for attracting couples; perhaps as a single man our driver missed that implication. He also seemed particularly impressed by the fact that the club had a spa where communal hot tubs bubble away like egg drop soup.
By the time we got out of the cab in front of Lotus of Siam, we both needed to wash our hands.
Lotus of Siam is both a complete dive and - as of this writing - probably the best Thai restaurant in America. The location feels vaguely unsafe. The parking lot is a little too dark. The bars on the windows of the adjacent liquor store are a little too thick. If not for the constant flow of people coming in and out of the restaurant, the place would feel downright dangerous.
Fact: Someone once sent us an article from some long-forgotten British Journal that claimed eating spicy food triggers weight loss. The argument put forward was that consuming capsicum, the ingredient that makes peppers hot, creates a metabolic boost and for hours afterward your body burns more calories than it otherwise would have. Lotus of Siam is clearly cooking for adherents to the theory. We played it safe, ordered our food medium-spicy, and wound up what was probably the spiciest food we have ever eaten. The garlic shrimp appetizer was habanero hot and garlicky enough that we both still reeked two days later. At times it was difficult to continue eating, but the flavors were so good that we could not stop.
We are not adherents to the “spicy foods = weight loss” theory. Our reason has nothing to do with the science behind the study, which we have been unable to locate. Our reason for rejecting the connection is that if it were true, Frito Lay would be advertising that fact to promote Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.
Let’s face it: all the big snack-food companies, including Frito Lay, Hostess and Sara Lee, have armies of scientists who are paid to find and verify these exact kinds of claims. Think of the branding potential. The moment these companies decide the results of this study are solid enough to be defended in a lawsuit, the market will be inundated with Spicy Twinkies and Sara Lee Five-Alarm Cinnamon Rolls. Until this happens, we can all safely assume the connection between spice and weight loss is far from confirmed.
We broke nearly every rule of Drink Your Carbs that night. No fried foods: we started with egg rolls. No simple starches: we ladled two different curries onto beds of perfectly fluffy, white rice. No added sweeteners: we finished the meal with mangoes and sticky rice, which is made from slices of fresh-cut mango resting on a bed of sweetened rice, drenched in a sauce that is probably half palm sugar. It was a diet buster all around, which means that the meal went according to plan.
As we mentioned, there are times when all of us fall off our diets. Sometimes these lapses are intentional, sometimes not. The key is to get right back on the very next meal. A lapse isn’t a failure unless you decide to make it one. We woke up the next morning and hit the gym for a quick weight session before a solid Drink Your Carbs breakfast of eggs and fresh fruit.
We both returned home from the trip without gaining a single ounce.
Andrea, in fact, came home a pound lighter than when she left. This was somewhat unexpected. Our goal was not to lose weight. By drinking our carbs, we were simply trying to limit the consequences of eating and drinking to excess, which naturally happens whenever we go on vacation. The goal going into any trip of this sort should be to limit the damage. You don’t want to come home five pounds heavier. An added pound or two can usually be shed with a few days spent in Austerity Mode. Any more weight gain than that and it takes serious work to undo the damage.
We did better than expected in Las Vegas, and we did so without feeling like we gave anything up. That’s the power of Drink Your Carbs.
As we mentioned, there are times when all of us fall off our diets. Sometimes these lapses are intentional, sometimes not. The key is to get right back on the very next meal. A lapse isn’t a failure unless you decide to make it one. We woke up the next morning and hit the gym for a quick weight session before a solid Drink Your Carbs breakfast of eggs and fresh fruit.
We both returned home from the trip without gaining a single ounce.
Andrea, in fact, came home a pound lighter than when she left. This was somewhat unexpected. Our goal was not to lose weight. By drinking our carbs, we were simply trying to limit the consequences of eating and drinking to excess, which naturally happens whenever we go on vacation. The goal going into any trip of this sort should be to limit the damage. You don’t want to come home five pounds heavier. An added pound or two can usually be shed with a few days spent in Austerity Mode. Any more weight gain than that and it takes serious work to undo the damage.
We did better than expected in Las Vegas, and we did so without feeling like we gave anything up. That’s the power of Drink Your Carbs.
Fact: “What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas” can be applied to unwanted weight gain.
