A few weeks ago, in celebration of National Nutrition Month (that would be March), one of the dietitians at my dad’s nursing home hosted a informational get-together for residents, staff and family members. I wasn’t sure what to expect — probably I had in mind some kind of a part-lecture, part-seminar type of thing — but it turned out to be more like a party than anything else. A party with a message — no, a party with several messages, only some of which turned out to be about nutrition alone.
Chairs were set up all around the room in various sections, most of them in an invitational arc, so that anyone sitting on them (or next to them, for people in wheelchairs), automatically curved toward the action. A bunch of packets were laid out on a smallish table. One was a multi-colored printout of dietary questions that produced a lot of conversation — how many calories of energy are in a pound of body fat, anyway*? Another was a chunky packet that included word games (beloved of many residents) caloric and nutritional guidelines and some nutritionally sound new twists on old recipes.
A big hit, on the same table, was a huge blob of fat, courtesy of Nasco. Nasco supplies a whole bunch of creepy and fascinating stuff to the world, of which this revolting blob of fat is a prime example, as is the lovely lean one pound of muscle you see next to it. They’re models, not the real thing, but little impact is lost in translation. I’m not exactly heavy, but one look at that blob, and I viscerally felt exactly where there’s a bit too much resting on each side of my waistband. Yuck. It’s been months since the holidays — it’s time to get moving.
Nasco also supplied the vegetable models on the other side of the table, showing the government-recommended serving size for each. I spotted the recreation director reaching for a baked (or was it fried?) chicken leg, and when I moved the pumpernickel slice to take a picture, it was all I could do to keep from trotting it over to the buffet table to make a sandwich with it. Verisimilitude, thy name is Nasco!
Maybe I’m just hungry for the colors of spring, but I thought the buffet table was gorgeous. There was a charming basket full of dark chocolate and dark chocolate with almonds (antioxidants, don’t you know? healthy food for the heart!), a glorious platter of fresh vegetables with a yogurty dip, and festive rectangular platter of cut fruit in riotous color. There was plenty to stimulate the senses as well as the appetite.
The vegetable surprise for nearly everyone was the raw, sliced summer squash — sweet and tasty. I imagined it with a sprinkling of freshly-ground pepper; we’ll be trying that at home instead of sauteing it next time. The fruit platter, from which rose the simple but joyful decoration you see above (a pineapple top decorated, Carmen Miranda-style, with orange slices), beautifully illustrated how inviting eating healthy can be when the presentation is so attractive.
Imagine pineapple, honeydew, melon and strawberry pieces each arranged separately in one quadrant of a plastic container in your formerly boring lunchbox, or on a plate at home. It looked like bounty way out of proportion to the effort expended. I could do this at home, if I’d only thought of it. Throwing an apple into a bag just doesn’t have the same impact — which may explain why the apple sometimes comes back home instead of being eaten. If Mom’s not eating as well as she should, small, inviting portions and cheerful colors might be just the motivation she needs to take a few extra bites. (It works for me, too.)
But the best part wasn’t the handouts, the visual aids, or the delicious, aesthetically-pleasing spread. It was the way people mingled and talked. It was the way C., the friendly and caring dietitian, talked casually about nutrition, about eating, about health and living, as she went around the room. It was the way people shared food tips, impressions, and questions. (What is DRI, anyway?**) It was the way we all went away feeling good about healthy food and the connections we made while enjoying it. It was learning by doing, sharing, interacting, and a powerful reminder that food is more than sustenance; that healthful foods can enrich more than just our bodies.
None of us could convince my dad to attend, and he even refused the tasty baked chips and salsa I took to him. He was happy — he’d really enjoyed lunch — but next time I think we’re going to drop in together, without (ahem) planning to. This event wasn’t just something that was good for us, it was a great way to enjoy each others’ company, share some new experiences and teach each other, just by doing it, how much nutrition is enhanced by socializing and stimulating interaction. Even vegetable-hating Dad could get behind that — and next time, we’ll make sure he does.
* 3500. Wow.
**It’s a Dietary Reference Intake and you can read about it here.
2 replies on “When Food Is More Than Mere Nutrition”
I couldn’t agree with your experience more. I have something to add, though, especially since you mentioned your father’s disdain for vegetables.
My mother also used to turn away from vegetables. When she was diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes at the age of 82 (it hadn’t been lingering, it just suddenly appeared…old age, I think) she was loathe to change her eating habits. Her doctor gave her a choice about whether to treat it with meds and diet, telling her that, at her age, it wouldn’t make much difference. She chose the meds and talked about changing her dietary habits. However, she was a sugar, deli meat, butter, Miracle Whip, white bread, cheese and chip addict. All of those things are very hard to give up.
By that time I was doing all the cooking. I decided not to overtly interfere in her preferences, nor did I hound her about them. I prepared two meals, whatever she wanted and what I wanted. Mine were always some combination of vegetables and lean meats, hearty salads, soups loaded with vegetables, savory stir fries, etc. We’d eat together. It didn’t take long for her to notice that my meals “showed” better than hers: More colorful, fresher, more fragrant, and I seemed to her to be enjoying my meals more than she enjoyed hers. Pretty soon she was asking me to make her whatever I made for myself.
Some of her favorites remain on the menu: Gooey Mac & Cheese, Beans & Ham, Hamburger Sandwiches. But I put vegetables in everything, now, including the Mac & Cheese (which also gets meat) and make sure the onions, peppers, celery, garlic, sun dried tomatoes and olives are sauteed before addition because the aroma heightens her desire for these foods. She even salivates over Cobb Dinner Salads that incorporate everything but the kitchen sink. I didn’t think she’d ever do that! She continues to demand standard breakfast fare, breakfast meat (which is treacherous with fat) and eggs, and her cholesterol runs wild most of the time, but, what the hell, she’s 89 and still chugging, so I’m circumspect in my attempts to reign her in too much.
The hardest way to encourage someone to change their diet, I think, is to harass, threaten, constantly hint or force them. The easiest way is to do what they should be doing for yourself until they notice that your food is obviously more desirable than theirs!
Didn’t mean to write a post, here, Marty, but I wanted you to know, old cats (my mother is a Leo) can learn new tricks, as long as they’re given enough choice so that they think the trick is their idea.
Great advice, Gail Rae, and I love your subtlety (‘It didn’t take long for her to notice that my meals “showed” better’). Presentation really does matter when tempting people to eat well, and your cleverness and persistence certainly paid off.