Hey, sugar

(No. 116) I'm breaking up with you, again.

Many people say that the holidays were invented by Domino Sugar. Illustration by Stephen

I asked a visitor yesterday what he planned to do in the new year, how he wanted to be. It was kind of a toss-off question, pro forma, and I wasn’t expecting much of a response. But he said, “I’ve been thinking that I will start to leave situations and environments that are not comfortable or productive for me — until now I’ve tended to adjust myself to my environment, the people, the situation, rather than finding the environment that fits me. That’s what I’m planning to do.” Wow, I thought. I understood what he was saying, because that’s something I’ve struggled with. I say yes to people. I adapt. I often make peace. My denial of my needs makes me grumpy with a strong desire to be alone.

“What about you?” he said.

I paused for a moment, opening my mind so a true answer might bubble up. The answer was clear, and it was related to his answer, but with a more specific focus.

“This year for me is about claiming my health, about putting my desires to exercise, to eat what I think is healthy for me, at the times I want to eat, and making time to relax, meditate, enjoy life up front. Way too often I let the desires of others determine what I do or don’t do to be true to myself, health-wise,” I said.

Sugar cane grows in beautiful places. Many times, in rural Ecuador, I’ve watched the cane being juiced, the juice boiled, the syrup poured into molds and wrapped in banana leaves and tied with twine. But most sugar processing is not bucolic. Illustration by Stephen

This has been especially true in the last few weeks, from Thanksgiving to now. I have a compulsive relationship to sugar, and the holidays often challenge me. By sugar, I include simple carbohydrates like the delicious fresh pita from Miznon, and the croissants from the French place on the corner — I might as well paste one on my belly each time I eat one. If I don’t eat sugar for a few days, I lose my desire for it. But if I eat cookies or cake or white bread a couple of times in a day, or a few days in a row, it can trigger an almost compulsive desire for the stuff. So, in general, I stay away from it. This month I’ve had many guests staying at my house, who often bring home delectable treats they find in their wanders around Manhattan — a Danish cardamon bun here, a bag of zeppoli there — and packages of cinnamon popcorn, chocolate dipped shortbread and candied orange peels arrive via UPS. Some years, I avoid it all. This year I indulged to the point of gaining weight and feeling almost panicked at how uncontrollable my urge for sugar can be.

Two days ago I took a break from sugar, until last night when someone showed up with fresh halvah, which I have adored since I was a kid. I ate two pieces. It was delicious. I’m not going to have any more. I realize, again, that sugar is not my friend. Farewell to you sugar, again, until you next collide with my happiness.

When my kids were young I would often tell them an elaborate, ever changing bedtime story about a girl who climbed into the sugar silo of the Domino Sugar complex in Brooklyn, and became infused with sugar to the point she went into a coma. They loved it. Illustration of Domino plant by Stephen

Bonus read from The New York Times: The Barbaric History of Sugar in America

Happy New Year.

Stephen