Well, it’s getting to be somewhat of a tradition that on Wednesday I write about something that piqued my interest on the Gretchen Rubin/Liz Craft podcast, “Happier.” Today the two sisters were doing an anniversary special and revisiting some popular ideas from the past year. One of those was that of the “evil donut bringer,” that person in the office who brings in treats that tempt people who shouldn’t eat them. Liz is a Type 1 diabetic, so it’s especially important that she strictly limit sweets. But all of us have had the experience of repeatedly walking past a plate of something we know we shouldn’t eat, resisting and resisting, until finally, on the tenth pass, we reach out and grab that cupcake. We do our best to ignore that bowl of candy on a co-worker’s desk but (especially if it’s mini Reese’s peanut-butter cups), again, it’s all too easy to finally give in.
Here’s the thing, though: this isn’t really a matter just of tempting people to eat unhealthy stuff. After all, if that was all I had to say I’d just be parroting Gretchen and Liz. I’d simply give you a link to the podcast from today, or I’d re-listen to it in order to find the original episode. Instead, I have a further thought about this whole issue, one that struck me as I listened this morning. Because the real question is, Why do the evil donut-bringers insist on doing this? They have to know that they’re not really doing people a favor. (In case you’re wondering, listeners came up with a number of creative ways to bring something nice in to work that doesn’t involve unhealthy food: a big puzzle on a table in the break room for people to work on if they’d like, or Legos, or fresh flowers.)
Here’s what I think, and I say this as someone who used to blithely make fancy desserts every time we had people over for dinner and was rather offended if a guest refused a serving or asked for a smaller piece than the ones I was dishing up. I was just kind of oblivious, and I enjoyed baking very much. It never occurred to me that maybe I should stop and think about the needs and preferences of my guests. In other words, while I would have said that I wanted to be a gracious host and make people welcome in our home, in reality I was focused on . . . myself. I wanted to make a dessert, and I expected people to eat what I made. In other words, I was selfish. Harsh, huh?
Here are some wise words from the great Peg Bracken’s great classic, the I Hate to Cook Book:
If you serve a rich dessert which you spent considerable time making, [women at a luncheon who are trying to stick to a diet] will probably eat it, but they will be annoyed with you. If they do not eat it, you will be annoyed with them. . . . My heart leaps down when I behold a hostess coming my way with a Set Piece—a big fat cake or something flaming. I know if I don’t eat it, her eyes will start to fill, and if I do eat it, I’ll wish I hadn’t. It seems to me unfair to place anyone on the sharp horns of this particular dilemma.
It wasn’t until I developed my own problems with high blood sugar that I started cutting back, and even then I’d go all out for special times. I remember the last time that I did this, during the Christmas holidays of perhaps four years ago, when I made a dessert for every single dinner that we had while my sister-in-law and her husband were here. When I went in for an A1C check right after that self-indulgent week it had reached an all-time high of 6.3, only two-tenths of a point under the threshold of actual diabetes. Scary stuff! As I’ve learned more and more about the health dangers of added sugar in the diet I’ve kind of lost interest In making desserts. But, again, I’m really concerned only about myself. If people now expect me to make a dessert when they come over, well too bad!
This small(ish) issue is actually part of a larger one, and I’ve written about it several times: being a “here I am” person vs. a “there you are” person. Have I mentioned before the story about a beach picnic Martha Stewart put on? I don’t know if I have or not. According to a rather unkind anecdote in an unauthorized biography (and I’m not going to bother looking up the title), she wanted to have everything picture-perfect: gingham napkins, food in baskets, quaint tablecloths to spread out on the sand. I think the car backed over the baskets. She was furious, and the picnic was no fun at all. Who wanted all that fancy stuff in the first place? She did. Well, maybe it didn’t actually happen. We’ll hope not. But you see the point. We can often fool ourselves into thinking that we’re doing something for others when we’re really doing it for ourselves.
This is a rather ironic post for me to write today, because I’m in the midst of planning the food for the big reception we’ll have after the Friday-night concert of the Cherry Creek Chorale. I will say, though, that I’ve more and more tried to have something for everyone. (I can’t do all of the food myself, so what other people choose to bring is up to them.) I’m making my famous Spicy Cheddar Cookies, and I bought cheese to go with the Irish soda bread that two women are bringing. (It’s an Irish concert, remember.) So that’s two non-sweet items. I am making two desserts: my famous Chocolate Stout Cupcakes and a new item called Gingered Sesame Shortbread. (I’ll wait to post the recipe for the shortbread until I actually make it; the post for the cupcakes is on my old website and the picture is terrible–but the cupcakes are great!) Neither of these is terribly sweet, and they’re both very rich and strongly flavored, so you wouldn’t want to eat much of them. It would be foolish of me to say that we weren’t going to have any sweet stuff for a party! People can pick what they want, and no one will be the wiser. (I do plan to eat one cupcake and one piece of shortbread.)
In the end, the point is this: Who do you do things for? Are you bound and determined that you’ll make those cupcakes with inch-high frosting no matter what, because they’re so c-u-u-u-u-te? And then be offended if someone doesn’t want to eat one? Or are you willing to focus on others? Hmmm. This is a pretty big topic, with all kinds of ramifications. In the end, though, we need to ask ourselves:
Am I really trying to meet others’ needs, or only to impress them and indulge myself?