Warning: this dish may cause back fat and cellulite

Having just returned from enjoying a delicious lunch at wagamama, I'm now pondering the merits of food outlets providing nutritional information about their dishes. I'm not a calorie counter, rather I try to eat instinctively based on my above-average knowledge of things diet and nutrition related.

For example, at wagamama I ordered the Spice Chicken Itame. It's chicken breast pieces, stir-fried with broccoli, onion, chilli and zucchini, a host of other flavouring and served with white rice. My rationale for choosing is thus: it contains good quality protein (lean chicken), vegies and a satisfying but not ridiculous serve of carbohyrdates. It's also not creamy and rich like the curried dishes on the menu, oh and it tastes really, really good. Like 'I crave it between visits' good.

Once I'd all but licked the bowl I could see it was lined with an oily residue. This reminded me that although instictive eating can achieve much, unless I prepare a meal myself there is no way of actually knowing what it contains. A colleage of mine once interviewed food critic Matthew Evans (now food columnist at Grazia), who explained that most restaurant food is laced with hidden butter and other fat like duck or goose fat. I bet two thirds of a chef's gruelling apprenticeship is spent learning how to skillfully hide it.

I saw this first hand on Sunday while lunching at the Pasta & Panini bar at David Jones Food Hall. It's a sit-at-the-counter affair, where you watch while the cook finishes off the semi-prepared food in front of you. I was virtually mid 'I'll have the pumpkin risotto...' when I caught another customer's being prepared on the hot plate. My best homecook-estimate puts the butter added at 50g. I ordered spaghetti Bolognese.

Despite these experiences, I don't advocate plastering menus with nutritional information. On my recent trip to the US I had the misfortune of eating McDonald's at LAX. Once I'd polished off my faux-healthy grilled chicken wrap (and er, fries), I spotted the tray mat staring back at me with nutritional info for the entire menu. Not much to good to me after the fact, except to make me feel even more disgusting and guilty about what I had eaten. And I venture that for the fast food frequenters who this is designed to empower, it would do little to deter the next impulsive visit.

At the risk of sounding like a Duggar, the answer is we should prepare more of our own food. If we cooked food for ourselves more often, the occasional meal out doesn't need to be overscrutnised. Apart from being better for the budget and waistline, there are broader arguments about cooking in the home being positive enviromentally, socially and mentally. I'm talking about the financial crisis-induced revolution against consumerism, 80-hour working weeks and the disconnected life. It's about nutritional education, not information.

I'll step back from broader arguments now and return to regular hilarious* programming. So wagamama lunch tasted great, I enjoyed my DJs spag bol despite not knowing about its potential hidden fat and I'll try as much as possible to eat in so I can enjoy these meals on a regular (but not too regular) basis.

*According to a survey of me. And my boyfriend.

A piece-a-pizza

In response to the deluge of requests* for some of my tasty-but-not-too-lardy recipes, I offer a particular favourite of mine – Kumera & Blue Cheese Pizza.

(Deluge technically equates to none. But my understanding is that recipe sites are going gang busters and recipe searches drive a great deal of traffic to general lifestyle sites. So in my quest for World Wide Web Domination.....)

1 x store-bought pizza base You can make your own. Personally, I get scared of any recipe involving yeast. Try to compare nutritional labels as some can be calorie-tastic. For example the Bazaar single serve bases are muy deliciouso but have about 2,000kJ each. I use a fancy-looking Italian style one (the name of which escapes me) and it's just as filling, good on kJs and very gourMET.

1 x kumera (sweet potato) Thinly sliced, sprayed lightly with olive oil and grilled or roasted. I stick 'em straight in my sandwich press/grill as it's extra speedy, though the oven gives a nicer flavour I feel.

1 x onion, sliced and carmelised I heat a pan on a low heat, heat a touch of olive oil and cook the onion as slowly as time and hunger allow. At the last minute I add a splash of balsamic vinegar and a dash of brown sugar.

Pesto or sauce of some kind I usually mix a bit of pesto with a less-made-from-oil sauce, like tomato paste or pizza sauce.

Blue cheese Any brand you like/can afford

To assemble Coat the pizza base well with sauce and top with caramelised onion and roasted kumera. Sprinkle with reduced-fat grated cheddar or mozzarella. Crumble the blue cheese into small pieces and scatter atop the pizza. Use as much as you feel you're allowed but don't overdo it as the flavour is quite powerful.

Bake in a hot oven (240C) for about 10-15 minutes. Before serving top with black pepper and baby spinach or rocket. Serves 2.

You can pretty much add whatever you like to this pizza, variations of mine include pine nuts, walnuts, grilled chicken and whatever vegies I have in the fridge. Boyfriend who runs marathons at lunch drizzles his with olive oil and chilli flakes.

I also try to serve this with a green salad to a) break up the carb frenzy and b) lower the overall GI of the meal, which is further aided by an olive oil and vinegar dressing.

When exercise turns bad

Madonna's ex-chef, Eric Ienco, revealed to the National Inquirer that her daily routine involves getting up, having a coffee and then doing two, 2-hour exercise sessions of yoga and Pilates. Yikes. I'm tired just thinking about it.

He says: 'Madonna puts herself before the kids. When she adopted little David, he arrived at her home from Africa, and three hours later, she left to do pilates. Wouldn’t you think she’d want to spend the entire day with her new son?' Well, I would but then I'm one of those crazy people who doesn't do 4 hours of Pilates every day. Hang on a minute... have I got crazy mixed up again?

Two key observations:
1. If an ordinary, non-Madonna person (ie everyone but Gwyneth) tried to fit that much exercise into her daily routine (a full-time job, transiting, housework, eating, sleep) it would leave less than half an hour a day for sitting on the couch. Bahumbug to that.

2. If Madonna is the representation of what that much exercise turns out, I definitely don't wanna do it. I don't want to sound like one of the haters who uses 'Madonna Arms' as a euphemism for everything that's wrong with over-exercising, but I will. Apart from not looking that good, her obsession with exercise has seemingly skewed her priorities.

Please know this isn't a whiney 'celebrities have everything, poor me' moan. Rather it's a reminder not to let this type of privilege de-motivate you. Just because you can't do four hours a day of exercise, it doesn't mean you should do nothing at all. It's a reality check that too much exercise might actually make you ugly – and that Madge is probably jealous of your half hour walk combined with an ability to enjoy time with family and friends.

PS I do feel bad that she fell of a horse.

Walk this way

Yes I'm still alive and blogging and I hereby promise / threaten to post more regularly. I've also hopped on this wild horse that is the web and will shortly have a pretty website all of my own so am currently embracing all things web. Stay tuned. (Also inspired to post again by my hilarious friends at The Unibrain... you really should follow them.)

I have a somewhat embarrassing confession to make. It seems I took my own advice a little too seriously (the diet another day bit) and managed to stack on a few kgs over the last few months. Blame Europe. Blame Winter. Blame the festive season. Blame the boyfriend. But really it's all my fault for eating and drinking more than my little body needed to actually live. Now I suffer the consequences of a wardrobe that only half fits. Pop... that's the top button of my jeans committing suicide.

But this is a good news story. Still carrying the weight from my last overseas trip in July last year, I recently took off for another sojourn to Mexico and London. Egads! I hear you say...Mexico? London? These are the anti-health food capitals of the world! Not to mention I'd been commissioned to write a story about food in Mexico - so I was legally obligated by the tax office to do as much eating as possible. (For details of my eating you can check out the Sept issue of Women's Health for some of that food porn).

I remind you this is a good news story and the happy development is, that after 3 weeks of eating my way through Mexico, London and LA I came home lighter and more toned than when I left. Not 'oh my god, is that Posh Spice?' thin but reduced enough that I could squeeze myself into a pair of jeans that would not do up before I left.

The reason is very clear. I walked. A lot. I trekked from the ranch to the beach in LA, I walked up pyramids and mountains in Mexico, I traipsed up and down stairs at Tube stations, strolled the length of airport terminals and powered through shopping malls is all places. And I have the blisters to prove it.

I have been reading and writing about the power of walking a lot. Bob Greene, Oprah's trainer and weight-loss guru (er, maybe not the best professional recommendation) says walking is his favourite exercise. The National Weight Control Registry in the US (a massive longitudal study) reports walking is the best way to lose weight and keep it off. And studies of populations who live the longest and healthiest show they are walkers, and not gym junkies.

Now that I'm home and reacquainted with my laptop and the Foxtel remote the temptation is to spend more time on the couch than pounding the pavement. I've been trying my best to go for daily walks and even posted this is the hope for further motivation. When all else fails I typically remind myself that the more I walk, the more I can eat.