Well, It’s Official…

My lab tests from my yearly physical exam are in, and the results are this: I have dangerously high cholesterol. This, even though I take medication for it religiously and fasted for more than 24 hours before the test.

I also know that I inherited the high cholesterol gene from both parents. One died of a heart attack, and one survived two heart attacks and an angioplasty. I am a walking time bomb, a heart attack in the making. I know what I have to do.

I know what my weakness is. It’s food. I know this and my doctor knows this, because she enclosed a nice little leaflet telling me which foods to stay away from and which to embrace as My Lord and Savior. Unfortunately for me, it looks like I’ll be taking the Bland City route to good health.

There is a heavy curtain of sadness at the Demonic house today. I am mourning the loss, yes, the loss of extreme meals. Let’s face it. There’s nothing better than a really nice hunk of prime rib that has been roasting in its own juices, bathing in a crust of homegrown rosemary and slathered in garlic. If it’s Kobe beef, all the better. I’m a real fan of a nicely grilled veal chop, especially after it’s been marinating for a few hours in lemon juice and oregano. Last Sunday, I made the best friggin’ au gratin potatoes on the planet, using heavy cream and Gruyere cheese. The potatoes melted in the mouth and the texture of the cheese sauce was velvety and smooth. It was so tasty, I could have eaten the entire pan for my dinner.

My crab cakes are to die for. There’s very little filler, yes, people, it’s mostly all crab and Old Bay spice, with some egg and mayonnaise to hold the lumps together. I also make killer crab stuffed mushrooms, which have different cheeses in the stuffing and are crowned with a dusting of Parmesan. And let’s not forget lobster! Lobster! My favorite food! It is stripped from my diet like a son going to Sing-Sing is torn from his mother. Usually I won’t even use butter to dip the lobster in. A good lobster needs no butter, folks. There’s not only lobster tails, there are lobster corn chowders (mine kick ass), lobster bisque, lobster stir fry.

Then, of course, there’s the Grand Marnier souffle at the Ritz Carlton. Pop the delicate top with your spoon and pour the liqueur in. Accompanied by a little scoop of homemade ice cream, this dessert is heaven on earth. It’s the perfect end to a rich and heavy meal. And cheesecake! Oh, my God! I am mourning the loss of cheesecake, rich and rewarding, with perfectly dry graham cracker crusts and strawberry sauce toppings. Oh, my, and Godiva! The doctor said I had to give up chocolate! The horror of it all! My favorite Godiva is the dark chocolate with cool mint interior. No wait, it’s the wonderfully yummy raspberry filled starfish. No, wait, it’s the ganache centers. No, wait! It has to be oozing complexity of buttery soft caramel mixed with the luscious creaminess of pure milk chocolate.

Holy cow! Don’t tell me! I have to limit my intake of wine!!! The nerve of that woman! Less than one glass a day? And I have such an amazing array of wine in my cellar, too. Mr. Demonic is wringing his hands in joy. No longer will he have to share bottles with me. No, he can consume all of that liquid gold himself.

Speaking of Mr. Demonic, I’m most annoyed. He eats the exact same food I do, and yet his cholesterol is less than 200!

Oh, yes, and the last thing. Exercise. I have to exercise now. I was starting that this week, I was just waiting for my carnivorous son to go back to his West Coast home.

I’ve had my epiphany. I don’t wanna die! I’ll be good, I promise!

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