This is why I love milk and eggs:

My pantry looks a lot like this list. I have jars and jars of food in there to practically last me months: at least three kinds of flour, two kinds of cornmeal, polenta, popcorn, rolled oats, quinoa, barley, two kinds of lentils, walnuts, pecans, pine nuts, peanuts, enough dried beans to feed all of Portland, cocoa powder, semisweet chocolate, honey, three types of sugar, wheat berries, jasmine rice, brown rice, arborio rice (no kitchen is complete without arborio rice!), bulgar, pasta of all shapes. Et cetera.

But no matter, if I’m out of milk and eggs, I feel like I have no food.

With eggs, in particular, the food in my pantry can be transformed. I can make almost anything (as long as I also have a source of fat, of course): cakes, quick breads, pancakes, cookies, sauces. Not to mention fried eggs, scrambled eggs, poached eggs, soft-boiled eggs, omelets, quiches and frittatas.

As far as I’m concerned, the egg is magical. It is a perfect chameleon: it’s an emulsifier, a thickener, a leavening agent, a whole protein. You can separate it into two parts, each with their own specific purpose in baking and cooking. With an egg, you can bread your fish, blend your salad dressing, bind your homemade veggie burger, rise your flourless chocolate cake.

(And look—there’s a reason most vegan baked goods pale in comparison to their lacto-ovo counterparts. It’s not the lack of dairy that makes the difference—it’s the missing eggs. I promise you that. You can substitute melted butter with canola oil in many recipes, but egg? Cornstarch-based egg replacer is just not the same. Though I do have a vegan blueberry muffin recipe that uses apple sauce and it is delicious.)

So eggs are practical and delicious and…
…they are also good for you, despite the cholesterol scare of a few years ago (remember egg white omelets? Yeah.). And it’s worth eating the whole thing—though the egg yolks contain all of the cholesterol in the egg, they also contain the vast majority of the nutrients, including fat-soluble vitamins and essential fatty acids. A single egg also contains 6 grams of protein and only 5 grams of fat and 75 calories. That’s pretty freaking amazing.

Even the American Heart Association has dialed back its stance on egg yolk, saying now that one egg a day is OK if you don’t follow it up with a bug hunk of steak. (They recommend people with normal levels of bad cholesterol stay below 300 milligrams of cholesterol per day; an egg has 213.).

Though I can hardly say that I limit myself to an egg a day.

And, frankly, I prefer my eggs with a side of bacon.

Now THAT is the perfect meal.

[DISCLAIMER: I should start by saying that everyone is entitled to make his or her own food decisions and in NO WAY am I intending to pass judgement on those very sacred choices. There is absolutely nothing wrong with veganism, and certainly nothing wrong with simply not liking the taste of milk or eggs. I don't mean to offend anyone's food sensibilities.]

Anyway. Milk: It’s good for you. Here’s why:

• It’s loaded with calcium, which not only strengthens bones but may also help you burn fat faster
• It can help you build muscle
• It may improve cholesterol levels

(Source. However, do keep in mind that nutrition studies are not always all they’re cracked up to be. For more information on why that is the case, read In Defense of Food by Michael Pollan. Also, it’s important to know that there are people on the other side of this debate.)

So, milk’s good, imho. But what about skim v. whole?

Well, if you’re on a low-fat diet, and you like to drink a shit-ton of milk, you’ll probably want to stick to skim (however, again, read In Defense of Food for a brilliant explanation as to why the low-fat diet may not actually be good for you). But whole milk sure does have some virtues going for it, not the least of which is the fact that it doesn’t taste like water. To quote Pollan (who, I can’t lie, is my absolute hero):

To make dairy products low fat, it’s not enough to remove fat. You then have to go to great lengths to preserve the body or creamy texture by working in all kinds of food additives. In the case of low-fat or skim milk, that usually means adding powdered milk. But powdered milk contains oxidized cholesterol, which scientists believe is much worse for your arteries than ordinary cholesterol, so food makers sometimes compensate by adding antioxidants, further complicating what had been a simply one-ingredient whole food. Also, removing the fat makes it harder for your body to absorb the fat-soluble vitamins that are one of the reasons to drink milk in the first place. (In Defense of Food, 153-4)

So, despite what we’ve been led to believe, whole milk may actually be better for you than skim milk is. Not to mention that the less processed a food is, in my opinion, the better.

That leads us to cow milk v. soy milk.

There are many good reasons to question the safety of soy milk. For one (and this applies to rice milk as well), it contains a lot of additives that aren’t necessarily good for you. Sweeteners such as evaporated cane juice may (or may not, depending on who you ask) be better than high-fructose corn syrup, but the fact is that all added sweeteners are best consumed in moderation. Some brands also contain polyunsaturated oils such as safflower or soybean oils, which also have their questionable health effects.

What’s more, there are some studies that indicate that too much soy can be problematic for your health: it may increase the risk of breast cancer in women and affect brain functioning in men. It is the soy isoflavones that are in question; these are compounds that resemble estrogen, and the effect of these additives on our bodies’ ability to function properly is not entirely known.

Bottom line: we’ve been led to believe that soy milk is healthier than cow milk by the very corporations who most stand to benefit from the sale of highly-processed (and highly subsidized) soybeans.

Then there’s the distance thing, which is a tricky issue. In general, I believe, it all comes down to who you buy your food from. Soy milk is often sourced and processed in the midwest (from GMO soybeans). Most organic milk usually travels from afar and needs to be UHT-pasteurized in order to extend its shelf life long enough to make it to your refrigerator. Non-organic milk tends to be local, but is made from cows treated with rbGH and antibiotics.

In short? Not a whole lot of great options, unless you have access to buying direct from a small, local dairy farmer and have the means to do so. Those of us in the Portland area have the choice of New Seasons’ Pacific Village brand, which is milk produced by a cooperative of local, organic dairy farmers. You can also buy one of the local, non-organic brands. Or buy soy milk, or corporate organic milk. Whatever makes most sense for you.

[EDIT: a reader rightly pointed out that raw milk is also an option. Yes! If you have access to it, by all means! There can be some serious safety issues with consuming raw milk, so do your homework and make sure you're comfortable with it. To locate where to buy it, go here.]

Or, make your own almond milk, but almonds are pretty spendy.

Me? I like to buy my organic whole milk from New Seasons and savor every damn delicious drop.

So…what about eggs? Eggs are by far the most amazing whole food I have ever encountered. But it turns out that I had too much to say about milk, so I’ll have to wax poetic about eggs in Part II.

And it is wonderful. I’m kind of obsessed with it, actually. It’s pretty much the sleekest, fastest, prettiest machine I’ve ever laid eyes on.

Anyway! So there’s a book review in the latest issue of the New Yorker that really got my goat. It’s James Wood’s scathing critique of Paul Auster’s latest novel, Invisible, and of his entire body of work, which, according to Mr. Wood, is an endless stream of unimaginative novels that uses the same predictable plot twists and forced dialogue. I’m not arguing with Wood’s conclusion — I’ve only ever read one of Auster’s novels, The Brooklyn Follies, which was as quick and easy to read and as it was to forget. Nonetheless:

1. Is it really necessary to reveal the entire structure and plot of a novel when you review it? Not that I have any intention of reading Invisible, or any of the other books mentioned, but if I ever did there certainly would be no reason to now.
2. At some point, a book reviewer has to make an executive decision: “Do I want to sound like a cranky old windbag, or not?” James Wood may detest Paul Auster’s fiction, but he sure has read a LOT of it. If he can’t find something nice to say about his work, then perhaps he should just stop reading it.
3. Excessive name-dropping: WTF? I’m not sure I’ve ever read a review of a book in the New Yorker that doesn’t refer to about fifteen other authors. These dropped names often serve no purpose, it seems, other than to prove the reviewer’s literary cred.
4. Forgive me, but does this mean anything to you? “[Philip] Roth’s narrative games emerge naturally from his consideration of ordinary human ironies and comedies; they do not start life as allegories about the relativity of mimesis, though they may become them. [José] Saramago and Roth both assemble and disassemble their stories in ways that seem fundamentally grave. Auster, despite all the games, is the least ironic of contemporary writers.” Translation: “I have more education than you do, and Auster isn’t as talented as Roth or Saramago. Also, the cartoon you see on the next page doesn’t make any sense to me either. Just pretend you get it — everyone else does.”

If there is something that can be said in five words, the New Yorker will say it in twenty and weave in at least seven that you’ve never even heard of. It’s simultaneously humbling and infuriating.

And on that note, I think I’ll go back to ogling my beautiful new laptop…

THE YANKEES WIN! THHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE YANKEES WIN!!!

That is all.

(Don’t hate me; I’m a New Yorker.)

• On an airplane, I was seated next to a teenager and her father. As we were waiting to take off, the girl, maybe 14 or so, noticed my crossword puzzle and she mentioned that she finds them too challenging. We chatted for a bit about that, and then I asked her if she happened to know the name of the actress in My Big Fat Greek Wedding, who was making a cameo in one of the across clues. “Oh, I can’t remember,” she said. “You could –” she cut herself off, like she was thinking better of what she had to say. Then, in the same way an American traveler asks a foreigner if they speak English, she said: “Do you text?” Yes, I responded, I text. “Because you could text CHACHA for the answer.” Yes, folks. It is true. I look too old to know how to text.
• At a bar, my friend picked up a pitcher of beer and a couple of cups. “Laura!” he called. “The bartender needs to see your ID.” I got up from the table and headed to the bar. Halfway there, I made eye contact with the bartender, who then said to my friend: “Oh, okay. Nevermind.”

I have to face it. I no longer exude youthful exuberance. I am OLD.