march / april 2007:

Diet, interrupted
Our courageous food columnist spends a week on the KosherZone Diet in an attempt to shed a few pounds. Was she successful? Well, sort of.

By Tina Barry



"Hide that," my husband says to my daughter. I walk into the room and take a photo out of her hand. It’s me in a bathing suit. Fat ass. Fat thighs. Mine, all mine.

“How did I get like this?” I wail. Here’s how. I eat like an army of starving men. Cocktails? Wine? Why not? I’m at my most entertaining after I’ve had a drink or three. Amuse Bouche? Sure, bring ‘em on. Appetizers. A couple of entrees. Desserts. Oh yes. As a food journalist I get paid to eat — and write, of course. But the fun is in the eating.

“Are you interested in trying this?” my editor asked, sending information about the KosherZone diet plan. Not really. A person who consumes foie gras at least once a month, and all manner of delicious things weekly, isn’t going to swoon over egg white omelets and turkey burgers. Then I remember the photo. “Yes,” I say. “I’ll do it.” And for a few minutes, I’m convinced that a new body can happen — three FroZone meals a day.

Day one: A huge box arrives. In it is seven days worth of KosherZone frozen dishes packed in dry ice. They look like airline meals. This isn’t going to be pretty, I think. I’m having dinner in a restaurant that evening, so I decide to put the plan on hold for a day. I leave with 21 dinners in my freezer and return to 20. My husband has eaten the chicken with peanut sauce over sai-pan rice noodles. “I like your diet,” he says. “That wasn’t bad at all.”

When I return, I stash the doggie bag of roasted duck breast and crisp potatoes (the chef tells me they’re fried in duck fat) in the fridge and go to sleep.

Day two: Three large FroZone pancakes seem like a lot of food, especially after what I downed the night before, but they’re surprisingly moist and the sausage patty that accompanies them is well seasoned and looks hand-formed, not factory made. I’m stuffed and not unhappy. Lunch is a veggie burger on a small whole-wheat roll. I like it. I’m not doing cartwheels, but I like it. I’m too full for dinner, so I skip it. A mistake. Missing meals on the plan is a no-no according to Carol Forman Helerstein, Ph.D. (She’s a licensed clinical nutritionist with 20 years experience and is Zone certified.) On the company’s website (www.KosherZoneChefs.com), Helerstein recommends dieters “Keep an appointment with food,” and that “not being hungry indicates that you are accomplishing your goals and losing body fat along with F-frustration A-anxiety T-tension!” Who knew?

Day three: I am in the Zone. I am eating three meals whether I’m hungry or not. (Order the KosherZone fresh delivered meals if you want three meals and two snacks.) I am keeping my appointment with food.

Day four: Today is my birthday. “I’m in the Zone!” I tell my friend who spent weeks trying to get a reservation at the restaurant of my choice. “Get out of the Zone,” she says. What she means is: Cancel dinner and we’re through. So I go. And, no, I don’t bring a FroZone dinner with me. What am I supposed to do? Ask the chef to heat it up? So we drink wine, lots of it. We eat ravioli so light they’re nearly transparent and the butter they’re drenched in only adds to their charm. We share slices of calf’s liver that are crisp on the outside and not unlike a soufflé when cut. By the time the chocolate tart arrives glittering with birthday candles, I’m so far from the Zone I’ll never find my way back.

Day five: I have a food and booze hangover. Regardless, I’m ready to atone for my evening’s sins with a breakfast of FroZone potato latkes and apple sauce. “Forget that,” says my husband. “You have a half hour to get ready.” He’s arranged a brunch for eight of us at an eatery nearby. I’m the birthday girl. I must attend. And I must eat heartily. My family takes it as an insult if you don’t devour food with gusto, whether they cook it or not.

I don’t keep my appointment with dinner.

Day six: I’d like to start over on FroZone, but this morning the egg white patty with turkey bacon isn’t calling my name. And tonight, well, there’s this dinner event I have to attend.


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