I ordered the second book by the woman who writes Yarnstorm. This one is called "Cherry Cakes and Ginger Beer," and is devoted to recipes reminiscent of foods eaten in children's books.

This time I got what is (clearly) the British edition; all the measurements are in grams (which I can work around) and the oven temperatures are given in "gas marks" or in Celsius (which I will have to convert if I make anything from the book).

Sadly, there aren't too many recipes from books familiar to me - there are some inspired by "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe" (Mr. Tumnus' tea-with-toast and Turkish delight and a sticky marmalade roll supposedly similar to what Mr. and Mrs. Beaver served). And there are a couple of Paddington-inspired recipes. (I'm a little disappointed that she didn't delve deeper into the Narnia saga and recount one of my favorite food-bits from The Magician's Nephew...where Polly goes into the "space between the houses" to read and takes apples and bottles of ginger-beer with her, and imagines it as being like a pirate's cave.)

Most of the books referenced are from the Enid Blyton oeuvre, and I don't think many of us in the States read much Enid Blyton. So a lot of the recipes, I don't have that sentimental "hook" to hang them on to.

(Though she does suggest a Heidi-style supper of fresh milk, rye bread, and cheese-toasted-in-front-of-a-fire, which sounds fantastic...I'd probably add an apple to have something tart in addition.)

The other sort-of-jarring thing (though this may be just me that finds it jarring) is the line in the introduction, that intrusion of 21st century nannying-tone that goes something like, "Well, of course you realize, the people who ate these foods lived in unheated houses, and ran around outdoors all day, and did manual labor. And of course the portion sizes back then were smaller than what we've come to expect." And while perhaps that's become sadly necessary these days (like the disclaimer on the back of the bag of little Hershey's dark chocolate squares I bought a while back, warning me that it is an "indulgent treat" to be enjoyed "in moderation"), it does make me sad. It's almost like she's saying, "Look, but don't cook." Or, "If you're going to sample these, you need to be darn sure you're going to burn the calories off somehow."

For once, for once I'd just like to read about food as food - as sustenance, as something pleasurable, without that irritating shadow of "But what's this going to do to your BMI, dear?" hanging over it. And yeah, maybe I "hear" that more readily than most people (I blame a particular doctor I had in the past who, even though my weight did not change one bit over the span of ten years, still kept making noises about dieting and such).

And the thing that irritates me and makes me spin about a bit like a Tasmanian devil and start to grumble about how it's "not fair" - I don't eat excessively. In fact, with the exception of what is probably a greater fondness of sweets than is ideal, I really don't eat badly. I make a pretty Herculean effort to get the recommended servings of fruits and vegetables in, especially considering how few vegetables there are I actually like. And I almost never go out to lunch - while colleagues slimmer than I get the Fat-burger or the double-dipped deep-fried chicken sandwich on a regular basis....no, I'm there with my little cup of plain organic yogurt, and my little apple, and my sesame crackers. And I do the portion-control thing (though sometimes I could perhaps do it better. But dammit...sometimes I get hungry, and sometimes a little salad and a boiled egg just aren't enough of a dinner). And I work out, even when that extra hour of sleep is the only thing I could possibly want in the whole world.

And still I remain bigger than what is considered acceptable. And it drives me crazy, because then you read some other writers, especially those who write for certain women's magazines, and they tell you things like, "Take a raw beet in your lunch instead of that sugary sugary apple" or "You simply must accept the fact that you cannot eat like 'normal' people do." And then they lay out some diet plan that would involve me being enormously hungry all the time - and therefore cranky and ineffective in my work. But sometimes, if I read those magazines a little too much, I begin to wonder: could those people be right? Could it be I need to learn to exist on 1200 or fewer calories a day? Is it my unlucky genetic draw (both grandmothers were heavy, and heavy in the way that I am) that will require me to be doomed to a life of picking at food and telling myself to "just deal" with being hungry?

Or I hear the stories about "Oh, just cut out one sugared soda each day and weight will melt off you!" Um, excuse me, Ms. Nutritionist? How do I cut out something I already do not consume? Do you want me to cut out a serving of fruit? The glass of orange juice that is as necessary for me first thing in the morning as coffee is for some people? The little square of dark chocolate that is one of the relatively few sensual pleasures in my life?

There are some cracks in this mentality - the New York Times story the other day about "positive eating." But the way I see it, with health insurers looking for any route to either deny people coverage or charge them more, the news story that the NHS in Scotland is considering sending nurses out onto the street, armed with tape measures, to measure people's waists and to "refer" the women with a waist larger than 32" (MY waist is larger than 32" at this point) to a "slimming program," I don't see it improving any time soon. Instead, I fear that those of us who are "just big" are going to continue to be harassed until we drop weight. (And considering that my weight, as I said, hasn't changed in ten years - actually, more like 12 to 15 years, now), despite having increased the amount of exercise I get and shifted my diet to a more-vegetarian, more-healthful version, I fear that I will just have to put up with the harassment, because it seems that my body "wants" to be this size.

The thing is - all of my blood numbers are "good." I do not show any risk signs of any of the things they typically blame overweight for. I can and do walk faster than my students when we're out in the field - I have to stop and wait for them to catch up, even though they may be 20 years my junior.

I'm sure part of this may be tied to our Puritan heritage - where enjoying anything is too likely to tie us to "this world," where pleasure is something we're not worthy of, at least in this life. But you know? Fruit tastes good for a reason. There is pleasure in a hot bowl of soup on a chilly night for a reason. If eating was unpleasant to us, we would have died out a long time ago.

So, I have to admit it: my pleasure in "Cherry Cakes and Ginger Beer" is not unalloyed. I feel an annoyance akin to the annoyance I feel when some science-in-the-news type talks about how chocolate contains antioxidants, but in the very next breath has to remind us that "it's full of calories, so don't eat too much!" To me, it feels like we're being told "Enjoy....oh, wait, no, don't really enjoy, don't enjoy very much. Too much happiness is bad for a person."

Moderation is wonderful, but being immoderately reminded that we need to practice it at all times is simply annoying.