In Praise of Fat
by Victor Koen in the NY Times |
When
I read about Bulletproof Coffee in the NYTimes one Sunday, I scoffed. Butter whipped into coffee increases brain
function and metabolism? Plus it helped
you lose weight? Clearly too good and too
goofy to be true, even if Jimmy Fallon raved about it. My initial reaction was that the whole idea
was silly.
Then
last Sunday, Greg and I were enjoying an impromptu brunch at Modena Wine Cafe as part of a glorious weekend falling in love again after many tumultuous
days of silent sparring. When I saw the café
served the kitschy coffee, I paused.
Here was a food fad that had made the long journey to the Colorado
prairie and the rural and somewhat red-necked hamlet we’ve recently come to
inhabit. Three mimosas into the menu and open to just about anything, I gave
the beverage a whirl.
The
frothy coffee was delivered in a tall glossy chartreuse mug. Very pretty.
I’m a straight up coffee drinker and a French press snob to boot. My coffee is served Ă la the latter or it is
not served at all, unless I opt for an Americano or the occasional soy latte. No BUNN drip coffee for me.
The
sudsy concoction, which was indeed drip, looked more intriguing than straight
up BUNN coffee and less gut-bombing than a latte. I took
a sip.
My
brain mouthed an audible “Ah!” and I grinned as if I’d just discovered a whole
new continent. The coffee was rich and
dark and pungent—so, quite strong—but it was also velvety and palpably luxurious. And something indeed seemed to be happening
in my brain. I had the same lovely calm and
remarkable delight I got when I ate foie
gras in Paris, lardo in Rome or
very good ice cream any day here at home.
Fat does something for my over-anxious, all-too active mind. I felt like I’d been wrapped in lavish fur on
a snowy morning, but I was clear-eyed and purring.
Whatever
bliss was, this was it.
And
now, much to my chagrin, I'm proselytizing for something I’d previously
poo-pooed. Oh, the story of my
life.
What
is it about fat? We’ve been told so
often that it’s bad for us and yet it makes us feel really really good. Not the good of the sugar high, which is like
heroine and comes with obnoxious baggage of glorious highs coupled with flaming
lows I’ve got an idea that all this
prolonged low-fat eating has been at the expense of mood here in America. Not to mention health. We’re certainly cranky here in the U.S. And I’ve never met a strict vegan who looked
anything but stringy and tired.
So
this week I’ve been working at perfecting my own bulletproof recipe at home:
Thus far, the ideal amalgam is 1 Tbsp. of coconut oil to 1 1/2 Tbsp. of
unsalted European butter (however, according to legend, grass-fed butter is
best) to a large cup of French-pressed Italian roast, whipped to a froth in the
blender. I’ve only made the coffee
twice, but my mornings have been gold-lit and lovely and my brain clear and
calm.
Let
me now sing the praises of fat. In
stressed out times, I reach for butter and bread (or white cupcakes made with
buttercream); now I’m simply doing it without the burden of carbs that lead to
cravings and crashes. What I want to
know is this: If what’s good for my
brain is the good fat, why haven’t I been getting the same pleasure from
putting avocados and coconut oil in my morning smoothie, and is this pleasure
sustainable or am I simply flush in love with something new or fallen into a "cult"?
Stay
tuned, I will let you know.
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