Diet tip: Luxury snacking (it's important)
Luxury is subjective. I don't care for caviar, though I once served it at a party when I got a good deal from a friend who brokers it to restaurants. I'm happy to skip the fish eggs and dip the little toast triangles in the sour cream, but caviar is only 40 calories per tablespoon, and it goes a long way.
Two things that still feel like luxuries to me are premium green olives and maraschino cherries. Eating maraschinos, I know, is a juvenile preference. It goes back to childhood and my parents' parties with their friends. Nobody did babysitters. The kids all came, and they were like cousins that my brothers and I looked forward to seeing. While the adults were playing poker or picking guitar, the kids were in the kitchen at the impromptu drink making station, gobbling the cocktail cherries and olives.
Green olives are 4-5 calories apiece, maybe 6-7 calories for the jumbo ones.
Maraschino cherries are 10 calories each, so a whole 10 oz. jar is about 250 calories. I was buying the CherryMan natural variety, made without artificial colors, and I had a couple of jars in my prepper supplies, but now it seems the natural variety has disappeared from the market. I don't even see them on the CherryMan website.
Anyway, I don't eat the whole 250 calorie jar at a time. It's that pajama party with myself when I set out a little bowl of olives, small bowl of maraschinos, small bowl of the cauliflower pretzels that are very low calorie but taste buttery and rich, with a favorite flavor seltzer water, all for me as I start a movie or podcast. For my whole solo pajama party I don't want to exceed 200 calories. It's at the end of the day or late at night after the day's meals have been eaten. Laid out as I have described, it's plenty, and it feels fun and forbidden, like sneaking cocktail garnishes at the adult parties. Altogether it expands time, the comfort, the enjoyment, the entertainment, the private time alone.
I always have a jar of leftover maraschino juice at the back of the fridge. If I get a scratchy throat or a sniffle, I mix some of that cherry juice with my Tito's Texas vodka to make the best cough syrup. Well almost the best. Grandma's mixture of whiskey, honey and lemon juice, which she brewed on the stove and carried hot to my bedside when I was down with flu, spooned it up for me to sip, never spilling one drop, that's the best one, but mine comes close. But I digress. The leftover maraschino juice is also good for soaking fresh cherries, or mixing with unsweetened pineapple juice and rum.
The weekend movie snack with friends is different than the late night solo pajama party. Everything hits differently. If we're at my place I put out appetizers, keeping calories in mind. People always express surprise at the idea of a bowl of cherry tomatoes, which they never thought of us a snack, but they eat them up. A little trick is to rinse and drain them, and while they still have a few drops of water on them, sprinkle on the pink salt, then leave them in the colander to drain more, salt crusting and drying, until people arrive, then transfer them to a serving bowl. A bowl of the aforementioned brown rice cakes, oven warmed, broken up and just a little drizzle of butter added, maybe a few chocolate chips mixed in, is the better movie popcorn substitute. All in all, the variety keeps things happy snacky without causing regrets afterwards.
In this post I have used free stock images.
These aren't the only luxury snacks, and cherry tomatoes and rice cakes are hardly luxuries, but the things that feel like luxuries to you are your luxuries. Does that make sense? The autumn-winter spread is different than the spring-summer. One day I'll post my recipe for dairy free dark hot chocolate, which is the winter treat along with a handful of roasted almonds, mmmm when it's really cold outside.
I invite your personal luxury snacking ideas that suit you and your eating plan, while wishing everybody a weekend of happy, guilt free snacking.