Save It For Group

In L.A. we have a funny relationship with carbohydrates. Christ, we have a funny relationship with food. We are reluctant to actually eat it. And carbs, well, we basically try not to eat them. In the 90’s, when the “non-fat” “fat-free” “lo-Cal” revolution emerged we started to get health conscious and thought cutting the fat out was the solution. We thought the yogurt with 35 grams of sugar would be good for you while you ate it in your car on the way to an appointment. In the early 2000’s the rage became “high protein, low-carb”. People thought if they shoved enough high-protein energy bars down their gullet they would magically lose weight. It turns out all those bars don’t equal food. To quote Joan Cusack in “Say Anything”, “There’s no food in your food.” We became scared of pasta and bread, save for the random trip that one would take to Italy and then come back waxing the Italian lifestyle. We would come back and stock up on Burrata Cheese, Roma Tomatoes, Basil, $30 olive oil and dried pasta from Whole Foods, which lasted for maybe four weeks after our return from the trip. But then we would move comfortably into grilled Chicken Breast Salads and lattes. We just couldn't maintain that Italian lifestyle. We couldn't hack an espresso the way we did when we were dragging our asses across the Ponte Vecchio. Why is that?

This is what I threw down when I got back from Italy this year. Ask me how long this lasted.


Well, the problem might be that we don't know how to eat. It might be our lack of moderation skills. I don't know. I do know that the low-carb movement pisses me off. The same way a TGIF, Chili's or Olive Garden pisses me off. The low-carb movement infuses us with guilt. We feel guilty if we go to Mozza, Silverton and Batalli's Pizzeria on Melrose and have a pizza. We feel the need to run to REAL FOOD DAILY (don't get me wrong, big fan) the next day and guzzle down that Twig Tea and shove some roughage down our throat.

I don't mean to sound accusatory, hell, I am guilty, and I will admit it. But there are places, dishes all over this town that will go unturned, undiscovered because we are afraid of looking bloated. But you CAN eat carbs. Go to BREADBAR on a Sunday and try anything they have, and eat one, not seven. The pizza at VILLAGE PIZZERIA. I can go on and on, but there are so many places that single-handedly moved me out of my Low-Carb support group and onto a happier life of moderation.

“Hi, I’m Pierre and I was a low-carb addict.” “Hi Pierre…”

Don't forget the Ponte Vecchio...