Fighting back

Day 9  

Then: 220 pounds (15 stone 10 pounds) 
Now: 213 pounds (15 stone 1 pound) 
Lost: 7 pounds 

The last few days have confirmed the "theory" behind our diet, which works on the basis of killing off appetite and eating well. 

For 5 days I had been following it rigorously, and had not felt a pang of hunger beyond day 2. That was down to the careful balance of good carbs and lots of protein, with virtually no fat. Then I had two illegal meals, the dinner party on Saturday night and the business lunch on Monday, and, despite the increased calorific intake, I've been starving ever since. And I put on two pounds.

The sugars, fats and fruits in the meals woke up my body to the cravings that kept me fat. I now have to kill the cravings again. 

This is the most difficult phase of the diet. Today I've been rigorous: I had to, with the photograph only three weeks away. 

So I had just a vanilla fruyo yoghurt for breakfast (a miracle cure, by the way - it staves off hunger for 3 hours), then a smoked salmon and watercress salad for lunch.  For supper, Jo made Piri Piri Steak: 

The steak is sirloin, cooked medium rare on the bone. 

Jo's piri-piri sauce was made by gently cooking red onions and red peppers with a little oil and lots of ginger together on the hob. Then she added sliced button mushrooms and a glug of piri-piri sauce. 

It was served with a simple green salad with white balsamic dressing:

I made this with one finely sliced shallot, combined with one tablespoon of the vinegar and two of olive oil, with salt and pepper. 

We had baked kale on the side: 

This is thinly sliced kale (make sure it's dry) sprinkled with coarse sea salt and olive oil, placed in the convection oven on a very slow heat (about 120 degrees) for an hour till it crisps up under the hot air - a bit like the "seaweed" you get in chinese restaurants, which is usually made with cabbage. Ever so slightly bitter, but a very nice contrast to the mushroom sauce.

Evil lunch and guilty supper

Day 8 

Then: 220 pounds (15 stone 10 pounds) 
Now: 211 pounds (15 stone 1 pound) 
Lost: 9 pounds 

Rule 7: Don't go to business lunches during the first two weeks of the diet. 

Oh dear. A heavy business lunch today that I simply couldn't refuse - including, I confess, steak and kidney pie. After thick soup. And wine. And I had to have the creme brulee, didn't I? 

I really fear for my weigh-in tomorrow.  This morning I was delighted that, despite the excesses of Saturday night, I had lost another pound.  

I won't post pictures of the evil lunch - far too shameful. Instead, here's how I tried to limit the damage with the lightest supper I could put together: 

Guilty Supper

2 soft boiled eggs, some asparagus spears, and one halved endive (chicory) grilled on the hob and then popped in the oven for a few minutes. I put a very light balsamic dressing on top, and felt guilty all night as my stomach demanded more. That's the trouble with eating the wrong food during diets: it makes you hungrier again.  Deliciously simple, though, after all that excess.  But I'm not sure it's going to work.

California Dreamin': Day 7

Day 7 


Then: 220 pounds (15 stone 10 pounds) 
Now: 212 pounds (15 stone 2 pounds)
Lost: 8 pounds 

Well, that wasn't a total disaster. After the fish pie, dessert and all that champagne, wine and brandy at last night's forbidden dinner party, I thought I'd have to start my diet all over again. In fact, I weighed the same as I had the previous morning. 8 pounds in 6 days is not as good as 8 pounds in 5 days, but I'm still impressed with the results.

I guess my body is in diet mode. Or maybe there's a delayed reaction and I'll have problems tomorrow. Today we're back on the rules in earnest. If I've kept the weight stable, I'm going to add a new rule to our list:

Rule 6:  You are allowed one completely illegal meal, and only one, in the first week.  But don't do it again.

This morning, a late brunch - and a wonderful concoction by Jo. She calls it California Dreamin': 

California Dreamin'

It's basically marinated tofu in garlic and chilli sauce. It manages to be spicy and sweet at the same time. 

She chopped 1 red pepper, 1 green chili (the Waitrose "not too hot, not too mild" type) and 2 shallots. These were sauteed in a wok with peanut oil. She added tofu and cooked it for 6 minutes. 

She then added 1 drained tin of Epicure organic black beans, a tiny sprinkling of granulated garlic powder, some coriander, and 6 hot and sweet Mexican red japapenos. 

These jalapenos are the secret ingredient and make it such a special dish.  They come in a jar from the Discovery brand. They are outstanding, with their mix of hot and sweet flavours. A generous sprinkling of black pepper, mixed together and heated through, and, with sliced avocado on top, it made a perfect Sunday brunch. 




Later in the day, after I watched Newcastle beat Fulham at St James' Park, I cooked another very fast supper. This time, it was baked halibut with seared scallops with a sauce vierge, and curly kale with shallots and lemon zest. 

Baked halibut with sauce vierge, seared scallops and kale with lemon

Here's how I make my sauce vierge: I put about 85ml olive oil in a small pan, and gently warm it. Then I add 25ml lemon juice and combine them off the heat.

Into this warm sauce I add one teaspoonful of coriander seeds crushed in a pestle and mortar, and about 10 julienned basil leaves. I leave these to soak, making sure the pan is on a warm, unlit stove, so it keeps above room temperature, for about five minutes, or as long as it takes the fish to cook. Just before serving I add some tiny cubes of tomato, with the skin and seeds removed, and some finely sliced olives (just 3 or 4) and about 8 good quality small capers. Stirred around, it makes a great warm sauce for any fish.  

Last night I cooked the scallops last and very fast, in the oil and juices left in the halibut pan.  They quickly seared, and were the stars of the meal.

The kale was made by boiling it for 6 minutes (until the green just starts to enter the water), and then sauteeing it fast in a pan in which you've already sweated a single shallot and a few thinly sliced garlic gloves. You add lemon zest strips, made with a zester, and add plenty of pepper once the kale is perfectly tender.  

The secret of this dish is the quality and freshness of the wild halibut - it was a very large fish landed from the trawler in North Shields on Thursday and I had the fishmonger* slice it across its width, and about an inch wide as I wanted it to cover the plate - you could have used a square piece as well, but it was important that it was thick so it kept its moisture. Moisture is everything with halibut and, being unable to flour it because of the diet, I seared the skin first, then very quickly turned the three other sides in the hot pan before sticking it, side down, in a hot oven for less time than it took to prepare the sauce, which was no time at all. 

Normally I cook halibut by flouring it, searing in sage butter and baking, but the butter permeates the fish, and that's strictly forbidden on this diet.  Only last week I cooked some beautiful halibut steaks for a dinner party at home with some lightly curried mussels, finished with a quantity of creme fraiche.  That was extraordinary.  But tonight's attempt wasn't at all bad, and totally legal for our rather demanding, but effective diet. At least I hope it's effective:  let's see what tomorrow's weigh-in brings. 

*Sadly Paul the fishmonger told me he was closing down next month.  A tragedy for him and for me.  I already travel 20 miles for proper fresh fish, now I'll have to go another 10 in future.  Incidentally, fish from Waitrose, or Morrisons, or Gelsons if you're reading this in America, doesn't count as fresh in my book.  Fresh means brought from the fishing boat that morning.  See my tirade in this week's Blog From The North.

The dinner party

Day 6  

Then: 220 pounds (15 stone 10 pounds)
Now: 212 pounds (15 stone 2 pounds)
Lost: 8 pounds 

That's ludicrous: 8 pounds lost in just 5 days. My tiredness has gone, my jaw is coming back.  I actually feel rather good.

However, we've encountered a big problem: last night we were invited to a dinner party. There's no way we could say we're on an alcohol-free, wheat and pasta-free low fat diet. That would be far too rude, and our hosts were really lovely people who will have made a big effort. 

 


However, to ensure we wouldn't be tempted to ask for seconds, I knocked up a substantial lunch of pan-fried (with almost no olive oil, put onto the skin, and not into the pan), and a sliced red onion, 2 sliced garlic cloves, sprig of rosemary and some baby plum tomatoes, roasted slowly in the oven. I served this on a bed of spinach, wilted with a tiny amount of olive oil and a clove of garlic. 

Very adequate. 





We had a delightful evening. Several glasses of champagne, white wine, brandy, thick winter vegetable soup and fish pie followed by fruit tart with cream. Everything forbidden. Surely one meal can't undo all the good of the last five days? I'm rather fearful of the weigh-in tomorrow morning...

Jazzing it up

Day 5  

Then: 220 pounds (15 stone 10 pounds) 
Now: 213 pounds (15 stone 3 pounds) 
Lost: 7 pounds 

Jo's Breakfast Frittata

For breakfast, Jo made a thin frittata with half an onion, green chillies, courgettes and low fat cheese, mixed up on low heat with 5 eggs and then popped in the oven for 10 to 12 minutes. She served it on a bed of spinach, onions and garlic.  And avocado and tomato (with basil).

In the evening, we were rushing out to a jazz festival, so we had "Thrown-together Supper": 

Thrown Together Supper

This is simply roasted chicken with a light honey and soy glaze plonked on salad with a few thin slices of low fat feta, and dressed with a little olive oil and a squeeze of lemon. It was filling enough to see us through three hours of jazz, and enough chicken left over for a cold snack at midnight.

Avoiding the pizza

Day 4  

Then: 220 pounds (15 stone 10 pounds) 
Now: 214 pounds (15 stone 3 pounds) 
Lost: 6 pounds 

6 pounds in 3 days. That's quite a spectacular result. And for some reason I don't appear to have withdrawal symptoms yet: just a much reduced appetite. 

Breakfast this morning was just a yoghurt with coffee.  At lunchtime Jo put together these delicious tuna lettuce cups: 

To tuna in water (not oil), she added one teaspoon of Dijon mustard, one (just one!) teaspoon of mayonnaise, some chopped capers and a little finely chopped fennel. She put this in baby gem cups with baby tomatoes on the top and avocado on the side, all liberally sprinkled with black pepper. A delicious light lunch. 

In the evening Jo and Izzy went off to watch Cinderella on Ice, while I had a meeting on the other side of the county. 

Jo said she successfully resisted the lure of Pizza Express: she didn't touch a piece of Izzy's pizza. Coincidentally, at my meeting the clients produced boxes of pizza too. Of course I declined, explaining I was on diet, and had just three weeks to lose some weight. 

One of my female clients, without really thinking, looked at me and exclaimed "Only 3 weeks!!?" The room fell about laughing and the lady was consumed with apologies. My goal is to reach a situation where, when I tell people about my diet, they look shocked not because they don't believe I'm on one, but because they don't think I need to be.

So I eschewed the pizza, and my clients chewed the lot. The room smelled of American Hot and Four Seasons all night. 

Afterwards, I returned home and Newcastle were playing Benfica in the Europa Cup. At half time I decided to make a very quick supper (I gave myself 20 minutes, so I wouldn't miss any of the game). I threw two shallots in a pan with a small amount of olive oil, then after a few minutes 3 chopped garlic cloves, some chili flakes and finely sliced celery. Once they'd settled in I added a pound of very lean ground beef of very good quality.   Once the meat had browned I then put in a glug of our new secret ingredient: 

Lingham's Ginger Garlic Chilli Sauce, which has a nice mild piquancy. I added some chinese rice wine and a tablespoon or so of Tamari soy sauce. This reduced to a delicious sweet and spicy dish, which I piled onto big romaine leaves. I took Jo at her word: she said you can eat as much as you want. So I ate three quarters of it, largely to cheer myself up, because Newcastle lost the match. Hopefully the loss will extend to my weight by tomorrow morning.

Mexican Comfort Food

Day 3  


Then: 220 pounds (15 stone 10 pounds) 
Now: 216 pounds (15 stone 6 pounds) 
Lost: 4 pounds 

Well, this is even better. 

Despite the frugal diet, about a thousand calories less than I normally consume, I don't feel particularly hungry. Though I do feel rather tired. All the time. 

Jo is basing her menus on one of the fad American diets of the noughties that talks about "good carbs" and "good fats". Except that she doesn't mention this when she gives me one of her delightful concoctions. 

We have a light breakfast of either eggs or fruyo yoghurt, we lunch on fish or chicken, with either salad or a crunchy vegetable like broccoli, and in the evening we try to do imaginative things with anything that doesn't have butter, or flour, or any derivatives thereof. 

We eat early now and, because we can eat as much as we like (and I do), I don't have any cravings at all, unlike both of my previous diets. 

Tonight's supper she called Mexican comfort food: 

Mexican Comfort Food

She put little pieces of chicken breast in a bowl with a marinade of 1 tablespoon of ground cumin and just under a tablespoon of freshly grated ginger, together with 3 fresh chopped-up green chillies from Waitrose (medium to mild heat) and a load of fresh coriander, mixed up with peanut oil. 

While that was marinating away, she found a can of big Mexican Poblano chilli peppers in the larder, and whizzed 2 of them in a blender with 1 shallot, about 3 cloves of garlic, another handful of coriander and a thumber of ginger. She also added 2 teaspoons of Total Sweet, which is a 100% natural sugar substitute. It's xylitol, a natural extract which is found in birchwood, and can be used exactly like sugar both in coffee and in cooking, except it has 75% less available carbohydrates and 40% fewer calories. Unlike aspartame, it tastes of sugar, not chemicals. 

Jo also added a little white balsamic to this sauce (to balance the bitterness of the poblano chillies), and she put a little peanut oil in the blender. Afterwards she added a little water to loosen it. 

She preheated the oven to high, then browned the chicken in a pan, added the sauce and reduced it, then bunged in a can of pinto beans and carried on cooking until the chicken was cooked through. Then she added a heaped tablespoon of Greek yoghurt (to replace the sour cream used in normal Mexican cooking). She poured the lot into a casserole dish, and put lots of reduced fat cheese on top. this baked for 20 minutes till it was brown on top, like a big lasagne. 

It was absolutely delicious and completely filling. 

The poblano chillies gave it a green tinge, but made it a wonderfully spicy

The Sweet and Spicy Salmon

Day 2


Then: 220 lbs (15st 10lbs) 
Now: 218 lbs (15st 8lbs) 
Lost: 2lbs 

Result. After just one day, two pounds have disappeared. 

Well, I know, that doesn't really mean anything. It just means my body is quickly burning up or discarding whatever excess fluids (mostly alcoholic) I forced into it on Easter Day. 

But the scales did make me quite cheerful this morning. 

Breakfast was a fruyo yoghurt, without the nuts. Then, for lunch, as I was at work, I had cold chicken on a dry salad. It wasn't worth photographing. 

But dinner certainly was: 

Tom's salmon with sweet and spicy Pernod cabbage and wilted baby gem

I was in charge this time. 

I fried up two sliced shallots in some olive oil, added chilli flakes, four sliced garlic, one and a half thinly sliced fennel bulbs, and added one thinly sliced red pepper. 

I then sliced some white cabbage really thinly, and added this, with a squirt of Pernod (around 30ml). I put the lid on, then shook it around, until the Pernod and the vegetable juices had combined into the sweetest, most delicious jus. 

Meanwhile I seared the seasoned salmon, skin side down, quickly but thoroughly in a very hot frying pan, then turned it over and baked it in a hot oven for a few minutes. This gave the top of the salmon (which was now on the bottom) a very thin orange crust. 

After 4 or 5 minutes, I took the pan out of the oven and the salmon out of the pan, and threw in two halves of a red baby gem lettuce (cut down the middle), and caramelised them rapidly. The lettuce was bitter, which is what I needed against the sweetness of the vegetables. I poured some of the vegetable jus over it before I deskinned and put the fish, orange-side up on top. Sweet and spicy, orange, pink green, red and white. Perfect.

The North East Diet - Rules and Lettuce Wraps

Day 1

Now: 220lbs (15st 10lbs) 

For the next few weeks, this blog is taking on a new and very practical tone. 

No florid prose, no amusing anecdotes of life in our rather chaotic household. Frivolity is suspended; for this is serious stuff. We are losing between 8 and 13 pounds in the next 14 days. "Are": note the confident language. 

Jo is organising our menu, and when Jo gets in an organisational mood, she means business. 

Having scoured the internet for ideas, she's been to Waitrose and raided the shop for anything that could vaguely be both tasty and fat free. To my surprise, rather than the small plastic bag I came back with for start of the Dukan Diet - basically a ton of pre-cooked chicken, some oatmeal and 100 Activia non-fat yoghurts, Jo returned with a car-load of goodies. 

We have already established five rules for our North East diet (which is, I guess, a Geordie version of the South Beach diet, designed for colder shores):  

Rule 1: No bread or pasta 

Rule 2: As much protein as we feel we need, and as little fat as we can bear 

Rule 3: Enough good carbs to make us feel good, and no more. 

Rule 4: Strictly no alcohol for the first fortnight 

Rule 5: Our diet must be enjoyable and satisfying 

I rather suspect that rules 4 and 5 will quickly counteract each other, but I'm prepared to give this new, invented, diet a go. It's got to be better than Dukan. 

Jo says that the problem with Dukan was that I became not only moody and irritable (apart from the first 48 hours, when I was strangely and scarily euphoric as my body began to rebel against its appalling treatment), but I quickly turned green from the lack of a proper diet. She was worried I would drop down dead. 

So this time, she wants to balance our meals, but to still encourage fat burning. Whatever that means. 

We started with a late breakfast: 

Breakfast: Day One

The trick is to drizzle the boiled eggs with Cholulah. Anything can be made to taste good with this spicy Mexican pepper sauce, even plain eggs and sliced turkey. The broccoli, carrot and sugar snaps were steamed and crunchy. The whole, with an ample sprinkling of ground pepper was surprisingly filling. 

Then, at lunchtime, Jo brought out her secret weapon:

Secret Weapon:  lunch

Fat free authentic Greek flavoured yoghurt hasn't been available in UK stores until recently.  This fruyo brand is absolutely delicious.  Of course "fat free" doesn't mean "not fat making".  Quite the opposite.  Unlike Activia and the other zero-fat brands, this one contains sugar.  A good 20 grams-worth in each pot.  But I prefer this to the unpleasant chemical taste of aspartame, which is the sugar substitute most brands use.  And, despite the sugar, each pot only has 170 calories, even with a generous amount of peach inside.  We allowed the peach version, even though our diet is really not supposed to have fruit for the first week.  Together with six almonds, one pot completely filled me up, which is more than could ever be said for Activia.  So much so that I decided to spend the afternoon gardening.  

I know I said this would be factual, not anecdotal, but the fact that I did some serious physical work for the next three or four hours is a tribute to the slow energy release capabilities of fruyo yoghurt.  I didn't once come indoors, either for a cup of tea, or to steal one of Izzy's Easter eggs. And that's not like me at all.

So, as the sun set, I was still quite spritely when Jo called me in for supper, our first proper meal of the day. Except that as soon as I reached the kitchen, I had the most overwhelming urge to have a cold beer.  It was the only thing that would quench my thirst and restore my energy level.  Well, that was my excuse.  

Jo and I discussed it.  "If you really want a beer, you should have one," she finally said.  So we wrote an amendment to Rule 4.  It now reads:

Rule 4:  No alcohol for the first fortnight unless you're really worn out with physical exercise, and then only one cold beer. 

That just about justified it, but I still felt guilty.  All forgotten, though, when Jo produced her perfect first dinner:

Dinner:  lettuce wraps with spicy minced turkey and cashews

She fried some shallots, garlic, and loads of ginger in a small amount of groundnut/peanut oil, then added 1lb of minced turkey, a good squirt of thai fish sauce and thai chilli sauce, and some quality soy (I only keep organic Tamari soy sauce in the house).  She added a tablespoon of fresh chopped coriander, some sliced radish, and that was that.  All served in fresh iceberg lettuce, with a small plate of broccoli on the side.  She said I could eat as much as I wanted.  After all that gardening, I ate four.  Can't wait for the weigh-in tomorrow.

The Day Before D-Day: another diet looms

Diet Day: -1 

Now: 220 lbs (15st 10lbs)

Easter Day.  

In accordance with tradition, Izzy and I began eating chocolate Easter eggs from dawn. I think I am hooked on Green and Black's 70%.  I then had toast for breakfast - homemade, scrumptious wholewheat and sourdough. Unfortunately I couldn't decide between my wholewheat and my sourdough, so I had a slab of both, with lashings of butter and Oxford marmalade. And freshly squeezed grapefruit juice. 

Easter Day in England means a lunch of whole shoulder of lamb, marinated with olive oil, garlic, coriander seeds, rosemary and thyme; and tiny potatoes, and sweet, sweet parsnips, roasted in butter till they taste of candy; and sweet potato mixed with carrots, onions, garlic and oil. And very good Chateauneuf du Pape, by the flagon. 

Afterwards, steeped in wine and staggering from too much food, we went to see a kids show with Izzy and 3000 other children, and Granny bought us ice creams. Big ones. 

By sunset, Jo and I had made a pact. We're going to LA at the end of the month, so we've agreed to lose some serious weight, particularly because her brother Josh is getting married again. That'll be his third - together he and I are Henry VIII, six wives in total. But this time, it's different. 

Josh's new lovely wife Melissa is a dietician. So the poor bloke, thanks to their whirlwind courtship, is already half the man he once was. He's never looked so well, and he even looks happy. Half size is good for him. 

Unfortunately, this means Jo and I will be standing beside him in the wedding group on April 28th, my girth immortalised in the family photo album. I think not. 

So, fearful once more of the power of the photographer, we have been inspired to get thin. In just four weeks. 

But first, last night we had to deal with all that wonderful leftover lamb sitting in the fridge, and the remaining half a loaf of crusty homemade bread. My wife is, without doubt, the finest sandwich maker in the world. So she prepared a midnight feast. She combined a mountain of tender lamb on toasted bread, swept with mayonnaise and a sweet, scented mush made from all the caramelized vegetables, smothered in gravy and melted goats cheese, and a few leaves of arugula to make us feel better about ourselves. And we finished off the second bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape. 

Tomorrow is another diet. Seriously.

Pre-Easter Admission

Now: 218lbs (15st 8lbs)

It's over a year since the last post.  A year of indulgence and overconsumption.  But I kept off the diets, so at least I've been relatively cheerful.  And fat.

Last winter's short-lived RealDose experiment (8 days only) demonstrated clearly that drugs don't work on their own - you need to cut down on food, and you need to exercise.  Which is painful and boring, and against the laws of nature.  Man was designed to overeat, and is naturally prone to indolence.  I am living proof of this.  

So you don't really need RealDose - you need willpower, and I have none of that.  Sorry, Dr Steve.  If I'm to change my shape again, I have to find another route.  Maybe tomorrow.

Gluttony

Days 5-8

Then: 216 lbs (15 st 6 lbs)
Now: 214 lbs (15st 4 lbs)

This blog is temporarily suspended. Having had the disastrously delicious seafood linguine the other night (see the consequences this morning), I’ve just arrived at the Sharrow Bay Hotel in the Lake District for a gastronomic weekend. The restaurant here has had a Michelin star for the last 14 years and prides itself on its local fresh produce. Here’s a selection from tonight’s menu – all-inclusive:

Amuse-Bouche: pork and cheese terrine with chutney
FOLLOWED BY
Braised Pig’s Cheek, Sharrow Black pudding, Confit of the Belly and Apple Sauce
OR
Breast of Quail, Truffle Fettuccini, crispy Pancetta and Wild Mushroom Sauce
OR
Fried Calf's Liver on Pearl Barley with Wild Mushrooms and Madeira & Truffle Sauce
FOLLOWED BY
Mushroom Soup with white Truffle Oil
FOLLOWED BY
Fruit Sorbet
FOLLOWED BY
Roast Fillet of Angus Beef, Croquette of Oxtail, Shallot & Thyme Roesti, baby Vegetables, Pea Puree, and Red Wine Sauce
OR
Best End of local Lamb, Herb Brioche Crust, Cauliflower Gratin and Tomato & Rosemary Sauce
OR
Noisette of Venison with roast Butternut Squash puree, braised Red Cabbage, Apple & Raisin, Dauphinoise Potato and Brandy & Port Sauce
OR
Fillet of Sea Bass with wild Mushroom Fricassee, Parsnip Puree and Scallop Veloute
OR
Fillet of Cod with Shrimp Risotto, Seared Scallop and Noilly Prat & Lemon Sauce
FOLLOWED BY
Sticky Toffee Pudding served with Cream and Ice Cream
OR
Stem Ginger Souffle with Honey Sauce
FOLLOWED BY
A Selection of 10 British Cheeses

That’s five courses (or, alternatively, a 10 course tasting menu), including the dish reputedly invented here in 1948: Sticky Toffee Pudding. No pill on earth is going to compete with this. I will pick up the pieces on Wednesday: please join me then. Sorry, Dr Steve, it’s nothing personal.

Well, It's My Birthday...

Day 4

Then: 216 lbs (15 st 6 lbs)
Now: 212 lbs (15 st 2 lbs)


4 pounds in 3 days. Impressive, eh?

For my birthday dinner, I decided not to order a starter. You see, at lunchtime we’d all gone out (the all being my little production team) to a great little Italian bar in Newcastle called Caffé Vivo. I decided we’d just have starters and no mains. But, the menu was so tempting we ordered every one on the menu, and bowls of risotto, creamy polenta, meats and salads, baked parmesan custard with anchovy toast, black truffle Tagliatelle, and… well, it’s my birthday, I kept saying. How long can this excuse go on? Lunch lasted three hours.

It was only a few hours later that I went with the two Mrs Gutteridges in my life to another Italian favourite to have the main course. “No starter for me”, I said to everyone’s surprise. Mum’s jaw dropped in disappointment. “I had an Italian starter at lunchtime”, I said. Actually, I’d had ten.

The waiters liked that it was my birthday. So they unlocked the secret wine cupboard. It lies behind the bar, full of special off-menu vintages for special clients and special occasions. Well, it was my birthday, wasn’t it?

The 2005 Turriga is the most powerful, mellow Sardinian red. A giant gobletful sat in front of me with a steaming bowl of my favourite seafood linguine – my first real carbs for three days. The pasta was buttery and divine, the wine beyond description – it’s a great vintage. A perfect birthday meal.

The other great vintage in the room, Mum, who’s 91 later this month, comes from the school which teaches that no proper meal is complete without a good dessert. She absolutely insisted we had creamy passion fruit pavlova, and the restaurant, which claims that no meal is complete without a good tiramisu, brought me one of those as well with a lit sparkler and a group of waiters singing Happy Birthday. A glass of prosecco and another of limoncello and I was sitting happy as a Buddha – stomach restored to its pre-diet glory. And to cap it all, I completely forgot to take my capsule before the meal. I remembered at midnight as I stumbled into bed.

All my good work undone, tomorrow’s weigh-in is bound to be a disaster.

An Apology, An Award, and An Analysis

Day 3

Then: 216lbs (15 st 6 lbs)
Now: 213lbs (15 st 3 lbs)


I owe the lovely people at Northern Stage an apology. Yesterday I said that their banquet fare was likely to be “wholesome and filling” – in other words, completely inappropriate for my diet. In fact, it was the opposite, and quite outstanding.

We had rare pigeon breast on a little watercress salad, followed by succulent cod and then a tiny little cube of chocolate cake. I avoided the roast potatoes.

Unfortunately what I didn’t avoid was the pile of wine bottles on the table. After two days of abstinence I attacked both red and white – it was almost my birthday, after all. Later, in a haze, I remember a lot of applause and the artistic director awarding me a medal for services to the theatre – it was made of chocolate. At midnight everyone around me sang Happy Birthday. Well, I think it was for me. What a great evening.

We are so lucky to have this great professional theatre company in our city. Jo and I were seated next to Samuel West who’s directing their new production of the geordie classic Close the Coalhouse Door. Sam is the son of our two national treasures Timothy West and Prunella Scales. I was pleased to see that he likes red wine almost as much as I do. We were probably calling everyone darling by the end of the night.  The entire region can't wait to see what he will do with our most loved local play.

I wonder if my jolly mood has been partly engendered by these diet capsules? They contain Siberian rhodiola rosea root extract, which, according to Dr Steve, was included to lift my mood, which in turn would reduce my food cravings. I’ve certainly been content with smaller portions (hence my avoidance of the potato bowl at the dinner, which is normally vulnerable to wholesale pillaging once I’ve started drinking red wine). Earlier on breakfast was just a small bowl of porridge, and lunch a dry salad with a single slice of ham. But despite this alarming reduction in my food intake, I’ve noticed an uncommon sense of calm since I started taking the pills. Even though I’ve just become 60 (for it is now Thursday), I still feel relaxed rather than depressed.

Indeed, if I begin to analyse my feelings I’d say I’m feeling distinctly mellow, even a bit spaced out. Jo says I’m hyper. Maybe I’m just hungover.

Only prolonged use will tell what effect, if any, these pills are having. Unlike the nightmare Dukan Diet, there are no bad consequences so far, except that I suspect the pills may be having a diuretic effect. I won’t elaborate, though this result may be due to two days of replacing wine with copious amounts of water. Who cares? I’m 3 pounds lighter after just a couple of days. Hurrah: so far so thinner.

A Whole Pound

Day 2

Then: 216lbs (15 st 6 lbs)
Now: 215 lbs (15 st 5 lbs)


When Jo decided to return us to the world of Californian hippie cuisine last night, with her satisfying dinner of tofu, chickpeas and amaranth seed parmigiano, I doubt she suspected that one unfortunate consequence would be acute indigestion.

Having both been up all night (Jo in not inconsiderable pain), by the morning we both agreed that the culprit was the amaranth, and consigned the remainder of the packet to the trash bin. I wonder if 60s communes had similar problems?  It must be tough to spread peace and love with heartburn. So as an antidote, tonight we ate meat: delicious spicy turkey breasts, on a bed of even more spicy kale.

Jo is a really good spontaneous cook. Whereas I learnt my skills in Raymond Blanc’s butter-and-cream-filled kitchen, and so find it impossible to cook anything without an ocean of accompanying high calory sauce, Jo has a natural instinct for amalgamating fresh, Mediterranean ingredients in increasingly interesting but light combinations. Tonight's meal was delicious.

This was our last healthy dinner for a couple of days: tomorrow we’re guests at the annual black-tie dinner of our local theatre company Northern Stage - it's always wholesome fare but very filling - and on Thursday no diet will stop me indulging in birthday seafood linguine at my favourite Italian restaurant. So today was our Healthy Day (we forwent wine again to give us a clear run at tomorrow night's festivities).

The day started well with the surprising revelation that after 24 hours of taking the RealDose tablets, and despite the huge portion of lasagne and chips, I’d lost an entire pound.  Now any dietician will tell you this is irrelevant nonsense – the body gains and loses several pounds in a day – but it didn’t half cheer up my very sleep-deprived mood as I took Izzy down for breakfast. I had a RealDose capsule, followed by two lightly boiled eggs. We were supposed to have one each, but Izzy scorned hers, instead opting for the twin brother of the blueberry muffin I’d devoured the previous evening. It sat on the table in front of her as she slowly crumbled it, holding it tantalizingly directly under my nose. But I didn’t succumb, instead turning my back and focusing on the exploits of Peppa Pig on the television. Daddy Pig was eating a large donut: “Mmm, delicious”, he kept snorting.  He would have made a great bacon sandwich to go with my eggs.

Jo and I were working in the office together today, and at lunchtime she prepared a wonderful salad with smoked mackerel and salmon, dressed simply with balsamic and olive oil. It was like being back in Sweden, except with bigger portions. Swedish people are universally thin, by the way, largely because they eat only very tiny mouthfuls of quite delicious, simple food. By far the best restaurant in St Lucia, we discovered, is a place called The Edge which is owned by a charming and very talented Swedish chef called Bobo Bergstrom. His portions are tiny, but utterly exquisite – the antithesis of the other fine dining establishments on the island. He calls his cuisine 'Eurobbean', which I initially thought was a new type of coffee, until I realise it was a clever fusion of European and Caribbean. He does great sushi too – I guess he'd call that Japabbean.

Maybe I should register a name for Jo's lovely style of cooking.  How about Hippy-Cali-talian?.  Sounds like a song from Mary Poppins. 

Guilty Pleasures

Day 1

Then: 216 lbs (15 st 6 lbs)

I crawled out of bed this morning feeling like lead. Izzy has been suffering from a virus all week that causes coughing and tears at odd moments throughout the night. We’ve taken it in turns to go to her and pour out sympathy and linctus. Poor little love, she’s bearing up with her smiles even when she can hardly draw breath from all the wheezing.  Jo has taken the brunt of it, as I was in Stockholm most of the week, eating cured salmon and smoked reindeer, so last night I felt obliged to take my fair share of sleeplessness. 

As I had a 9am meeting in town, we set the alarm early and I vowed to make myself a nice tasteless bowl of Dr Dukan’s cardboard (see my 2010 posts for the recipe) to kick off this diet. After a sleepless night, what I really wanted was a nice big chunk of toast oozing with salty butter and smothered with marmalade. But having slammed the alarm’s snooze button five times, I realised I had time only for Weetabix.

Dukan wouldn’t have approved of the carbs and milk, but the good doctor Sisskind is marvelously tolerant. He’d like you to follow his guidelines, and really hates processed cereals, but he isn’t proscriptive or dogmatic. Bearing in mind the agony of the 2010 diet experiment, where I had to turn a shade of grey-green before Jo made me see sense and start eating properly, this time I’m doing my own thing. I’m starting without bread or other white starchy products, potatoes or heavy carbs. I’m certainly not giving up wine – although I aim to abstain just twice a week, starting with tonight. Well, this was the plan. Unfortunately the day had other ideas.

The theory behind these little pills is fascinating. According to the blurb, they have four key ingredients.

The first two work to increase the body’s supply of adiponectin, the hormone that makes your fat cells burn fat for energy and which also decreases the body’s ghrelin levels. I was so sleepy, I didn’t really feel I needed any energy this morning, so there probably wasn't that much for the first two ingredients to do.  These were piper betle leaf and dolichos biflorus seed extracts.  Ghrelin is the hormone responsible for making people hungry. I guess I am ghrelin-dependent.

The next key ingredient is a sugar blocker. It’s a green coffee bean extract which is supposed to prevent carbohydrates from turning into fat. Let’s hope it works on Weetabix. Apparently it works by inhibiting glucose absorption, which helps reduce insulin resistance, the reason why people turn whatever they eat into fat.

Together all these ingredients are supposed to more than double your fat loss during a diet. To this cocktail of slimming elixir, they have added one more ingredient: Siberian rhodiola rosea, which attacks cortisol. In other words, it’s a stress buster. It’s certainly the case that the happier I am the less I eat, and that any form of anxiety usually takes its remedy in Green & Black’s chocolate ice cream. The label having been read, in went the first little brown capsule, and half an hour later the Weetabix. My diet was on its way.

Why the name RealDose? Because Dr Sisskind believes that it’s important that ingredients are sourced from the same places and used in precisely the same doses as in human studies which lie behind the science. It’s a strong marketing idea. How will it fare when faced by a man with absolutely no willpower whatsoever? Watch this space over the next few weeks.

Lunchtime came and in went another pill. Unfortunately the location was a little “greasy spoon” café we found in a gap between two very stressful meetings. The menu was limited to say the least. My colleagues had chilli, rice and chips. I had lasagna and chips. I think the other choice was chicken curry and chips - we are in the north east of England, after all.  The chips were soggy, dripping with fat, and totally delicious.  I am admitting all this with no small amount of contrition: my diet was derailed almost before it had begun.

After two hours of pitching to prospective clients and a 60 mile drive home, I arrived exhausted and starving.  That's my excuse for grabbing a fresh, soft, juicy blueberry muffin which was seductively waving at me from the kitchen table.  The guilt only hit me as I picked up the last crumb.  I generously threw it at Truffle and Mabel, who were sitting at my feet with doggy tongues hanging out.  This diet is going to be a long, tough journey.

Later Jo came to the rescue with an extraordinarily inventive vegetarian meal. She, too, is losing weight, but without the help of the piper betle leaf. Instead, she has vowed to eat just healthy, wholesome food.

Tonight she prepared butternut squash roasted with thyme and olive oil, which had been combined with chickpeas and juliennes of courgettes, lemon zest sautéed in garlic and chilli. On the side lay, eccentrically, a mound of cooked amaranth seed.  Amaranth is full of protein, apparently, and is really quite tasty when cooked with spring onions (which Jo still calls scallions) and a little parmesan.  Sitting atop this feast was a slab of fresh tofu, marinated with fresh ginger, lemon juice, and Jo's magic ingredient, Braggs Amino Acid (a more healthy alternative to soy sauce).  The tofu had been fried in garlic oil and finished with thin slices of fresh red chilli.

By now, the lasagna and chips were long forgotten: though I suspect I’ll remember them only too well when I weigh myself tomorrow morning. I wonder how much today's excesses will have added to my waistline.  Oh dear.  Let's hope Izzy sleeps through the night.

A (Far Too) Big Birthday

Day -1

Now: 216lbs (15st 6 lbs)

I do hope this wretched week crawls by. In fact, I’ll be quite happy if Thursday doesn’t bother turning up at all. I’d like it to be Wednesday 1st February for quite a few years – until my brain has caught up with my age, that is. For on Thursday I’m due to reach the terrible milestone that marks the beginning of my sixties.

Why on earth do we pretend to celebrate big birthdays? They take years off your life. On my 40th, I took over a Russian restaurant in Chelsea and about 100 friends and I sampled every one of the 76 vodkas in the bar. I don’t remember a lot about what followed. Apparently we all decamped to my flat at four in the morning. I woke up at midday to find that my friend Rowland Rivron had spilt black coffee all over the white shagpile carpet and upended every item of furniture, including the wardrobes and the grand piano. It took me a week to recover; the carpet never did.

My 50th was rather less wild but just as exhausting. Having discovered a talent for cooking, I decided to cater my own dinner party for 100 friends and family. It was a complicated four-course meal, so I spent most of the evening in the kitchen searing scallops. It was stressful beyond belief. Rowland was there again: but by now he was married with children, so he simply made a rude speech about how ancient I’d become. Time tempers the wildest spirit. Since my 40th birthday I've managed to add a pound to my weight for each year of my indolent, exercise-free life. 

I read somewhere that having another child in your fifties makes you feel younger. Sure, I’ve rediscovered the joys of jigsaws, and I can recite whole episodes of Peppa Pig, but since Izzy arrived, I can’t say it’s been exactly rejuvenating. Constant toddler-carrying hasn’t removed my middle-aged spread, instead it’s given me a permanent twinge that feels suspiciously like a need for a hip replacement.

Two parcels arrived this morning and I groaned: people are already remembering the event I’m determined to ignore. The first was from my eldest daughter, with strict instructions not to open till “the big day”. Of course I immediately tore it open.

Inside was a book called “The 4-Hour Work Week: How to Escape the 9-5 and Join the New Rich”. It’s a best-seller, apparently – no wonder the author can enjoy a 4-Hour Work Week. I immediately resolved to write a book called “Do No Work At All And Make A Million.” Chapter One: Write book called “Do No Work At All And Make A Million”. Chapter Two: Wait for royalty cheques and put your feet up.

The second package turned out to be three small jars of pills, sent to me by a very nice chap I met on holiday. He’s a doctor: well he has a medical degree and he’s using the qualification to make himself a fortune. He’s invented some new diet product that’s getting people excited in America. Of course, I offered to test it for him: if you’d seen me on the beach in St Lucia, you’ll know why. Talk about scaring the locals.

It’s called RealDose Weight Loss Formula No 1 and the label says it has ingredients clinically proven to “Accelerate fat burning, Reduce appetite, Increase energy and stamina and Enhance mood”. Now we’re talking.

In truth, there’s a tiny asterisk next to each claim that leads to some small print warning that “These statements have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration.” Well, they’re about to be evaluated by me.

A couple of years ago I started this blog and lost 20 pounds in 64 days. Then I had a target: my wife had booked a photographer to take a family album.  The pictures of a 195-pound me bedeck the house, like images of some distant and long-lost cousin.

The weight took quite a while to return.  Indeed I entered 2011 at just a little over 200 pounds.  A year later I've added back all I lost.  That's why I have no photographs of me on the beach in St Lucia, but plenty of the svelte Dr Steven Sisskind and his delightful family.

Over dinner one night I offered to test out his formula and Steve agreed to send me three months' supply.  I'll start taking the pills tomorrow morning:  one before each meal.  Although I doubt I can lose ten years by Thursday, or even 10 ounces, I've set myself some rules.  I'm cutting out potatoes, bread and ice cream.  Everything else stays as normal.  I shall weigh myself each day.  And I shall be honest.

It's going to be difficult for the first week.  On Wednesday I have a black tie banquet to attend; on Thursday nothing will stop me enjoying a large bowl of birthday seafood pasta and a large bottle of Sardinian wine in my favourite Italian restaurant;  and this weekend Jo and I are going to spend two nights in a Lake District hotel with a Michelin starred restaurant.  Heavy rain is forecast:  there will be nothing to do but eat the most wonderful gourmet food.  So I doubt Dr Sisskind's diet pills will have much effect for a while.  But over time I hope we'll win through together, and on May 1st I shall post a new picture.  Wish us luck. 

Picture Perfect: The Last Post

Day 64

Then: 15 stone 5 pounds (215lbs)
Now: 13 stone 13 pounds (195 lbs)

Well, it’s actually far from perfect, but rather better than I looked two months and 20 pounds ago. Here’s the proof:


It was a close run finish. Dr Dukan always conceded that followers of his diet regime might need a little wholewheat to get the system moving from time to time. He’s not kidding. I rather panicked at the last moment because I weighed myself last night and was still well over a pound short of the target. I suspected this was because of the constipation caused by my relentless diet of morning cardboard (see recipe in an earlier posting) and dry lunchtime chicken. However much fresh garden salad I consumed, nothing shifted the bloating.

So I opened my first loaf of bread since June and it did its stuff within half an hour. Sorry to be so basic, but they say blogs should be truthful – and some of you have shared this journey with me for the whole 64 days, and I've had several emails from people who've been inspired to join the regime. Good luck to you all.

As the photographer arrived I weighed in at 195.4 lbs. This is the lightest I’ve been since I was going out with Anneka Rice in the mid-90s. Even then Ms Rice complained about my weight (in fairness, during the relationship I had expanded from 185 pounds, which was, and is, my “true weight” for my height and build). I remember her saying one morning, rather cruelly, but I confess accurately, that I was looking pregnant: this, just as I got out of the bath. That could well have been the beginning of the end.

I began a diet that day, but failed as miserably as I have in subsequent attempts, including the one where Michael Grade and I competed with the Controller of BBC1 and sent each other cakes and messages to try and put each other off. I’ve described that journey, and my failed 2008 attempt to emulate it, in another post.

Alright, a more cynical reader, or indeed an ex-girlfriend, might point out that I look as pregnant now as I did then, but I do feel that my Dukant diet has been a resounding success. I genuinely feel better, lighter, healthier and everything else I promised myself. More importantly, I’m proud of my family snaps, the first of which is published here and more of which will appear later this week on Blog From The North.

They were a nightmare to shoot. The talented photographer, Pam Hordon, was an angel. Unlike Izzy, who had no desire to be part of the polite and formal family group shot that Jo and I had envisaged. She insisted on sprinting round the garden instead of sitting quietly on my lap. Thus the “sitting” became a running.

The shoot reminded me of a film I made about the Walton Sextuplets, which included a photo session with Lord (Patrick) Lichfield attempting to take a family portrait in a formal garden on their second birthday (here's one of the more successful pictures which has been scanned onto a fanzine site). The shoot was a glorious nightmare, with Lichfield waving a little bird at them, which they all studiously ignored. Just as he was set to take the picture, one of the six would run off into the distance. Miraculously, Patrick managed to get all six looking at the camera at the same time, and the Waltons were far better behaved than Izzy. It was fortunate that Pam was more than a match for her.

The pictures show a leaner, more sprightly man than before: still just as old, of course, but perhaps more ready to enjoy the next round of fatherhood with my beautiful young wife and my gorgeous, if rather exhausting, daughter.

Thank you for following this blog to this, its final chapter. I shall be attempting to remain at this weight for some time, despite Dr Dukan’s exhortations for me to carry on down to my “true weight”. Jo doesn't want me to carry on: she thinks I'm just fine as I am (or maybe she just wants her life back). My appetite wants me to be a stone bigger.

If Dukan prevails, and I lose even more than I have to date, I may update this blog: I will have consumed an awful lot of oatbran by then. If he does not, as seems more likely (judging by the large bacon cheeseburger I had just half an hour after this photograph was taken and the seafood linguine I'm preparing for supper tonight), this will be my final word on the last moments of my ex-waistline. But you may catch the occasional visual clue on Blog From The North. I look forward to welcoming you there.

Not All Fat Ladies Are Pregnant

Day 63


Then: 15 stone 5 pounds (215 lbs)
Now: 14 stone 0 pounds (196 lbs)

I have a terrible confession about a major weakness of mine – a paranoia, even. I can spot a close acquaintance on the other side of the street and, mid-hail, will stop myself from saying his name – just in case I’ve confused him for someone else.

So, to avoid potential embarrassment, I utter a strangulated “Hi there” and wait for him to acknowledge me. Often confirmation of the person’s true identity takes several minutes. I can’t just say “How’s Dorothy?”, or “Are you still with the Gas Board?”, just in case my friend isn’t the friend I think he is, or isn’t married to the right person, or in the right job. So I tend to come out with phrases like “How are things?” and wait for a clue in his reply to reassure myself that I’m both talking to the correct person and that I really do know what he does, who he lives with and all the other essentials to ensure safe ongoing discourse.

This long established fear of awkwardness and humiliation would keep a psychotherapist in new couches for life, I’m sure. Something in my childhood, some terrible mortification long hidden behind a mask of uncertainty, will have prompted this terrible discomfort. My two years of therapy in California failed to grapple with it: I had bigger skeletons from my past to uncover.

In the 1980s I made the world’s worst talk show producer because I could never recognise any of the guests. I once told a well-known artist in the Groucho Club how much I liked his movies. He replied “I like Lindsay Anderson’s work too, but sadly I’m not him”. I was so distraught, he sketched a portrait of me which he gave me “to remind me who I am”.

So, as a result of this perverse obsession with identity, I’ve always been very careful about what I say to anyone. Most of all, I keep quiet about their appearance. I’ve even stopped saying how well people look since a former work colleague whom I did recognise (also in the Groucho Club) revealed, after receiving my congratulations on his slim physique, that he’d just been diagnosed with cancer. Sadly I read that he died last Sunday.

So imagine my surprise when three people in the last 24 hours have had the courage to come straight up to me and declare, bold as brass, how much weight I’ve lost. I’m full of admiration – for them, not me. I’d be too scared to say that to anyone for fear of the consequences. But why only three, and why in the last 24 hours, when I’ve been hovering around this weight for a week and a half? Maybe they are secret readers of this very blog?

Tomorrow I’m going to wear a big badge with “The Diet Is Over – yes, I’ve lost nearly 2 stone - you can congratulate me”. But first the photographs: so I can carry the proof forever.

The Final Hurdle

Day 58

Then: 15 stone 5 pounds (215 lbs)
Now: 14 stone 0 pounds (196 lbs)

One pound and one week to go. Next Saturday Jo, Izzy and I have our family portrait taken and, if things go to plan and I don’t suddenly rediscover the joys of cappuccinos and ice cream, I should have hit my target weight of 195 pounds. When I’m dead and buried, this is how Izzy will remember me.

Yesterday my friend Justin asked me the question I’m refusing to think about: what happens next?

Well, at the moment I can’t think beyond Newcastle United’s first home game of the season, next Sunday, when I hope to be sitting in the bar with a steak and kidney pie, chips and a pint of Grolsch. Except that, after two months of abstinence, I know that will just make me feel ill – even if we beat Aston Villa, which is a most unlikely event. Jo has organised a little celebration with friends after the game at our favourite Chinese restaurant – noodles and rice have been banned along with everything else I really enjoy in life and I’m really looking forward to Mango’s fried pork dumplings and steamed scallops and prawns.

The question is, how much of this diet will continue, and where will my weight be a month or two from now? The short answer is, I don’t really know. But one thing is clear: I’m enjoying this new body. I actually feel rather more alive than I did two months ago; I don’t huff and puff climbing stairs or hills; I am more confident in my clothes.

I’m still a whole 14 pounds off my so-called (called by Dr Dukan) “real” weight, but Jo says she doesn’t want to be married to an old wrinkly. At the moment I'm gently gliding down by just a pound or two a week - I doubt this will continue.

So I’ve set myself a new target: I intend to stay below 200 pounds forever. Quite how I achieve this once my taste buds come across all the banned substances again, I don’t know. But I may well keep up the cardboard breakfasts, and even have the ghastly roast chicken-only lunches from time to time. And I shall certainly keep weighing myself – not daily, as I have been for two months, but weekly. And I’ll publish the weight in my other blog, www.blogfromthenorth.com, where today I’ve posted a more extensive version of the Size 34 jeans saga I shared with you earlier in the week. Jo and I went to Gap on Thursday and I bought dozens of Large (not Extra Large!) shirts and a couple of pairs of new jeans. It was a most satisfying feeling, quite worth all the pain of the last two months.

And to keep me motivated there will be the evidence, the Before and After photographs. I’ll be posting them as soon as the photographer sends me the evidence. And they’ll sit on this site forever, as a permanent reminder of how I was, how I became and, hopefully, how I’ll never look again.