Fiona McCade: Wean yourself off junk with a short sharp snack

Published on Monday 28 June 2010 12:53

MY husband is about three stone overweight. This doesn't bother me, but it bothers him - intermittently. So, after several World Cup pizza, peanut and beer binges, it was no surprise to see him return from shopping with a "healthy" purchase.

He unveiled a large packet of something resembling peanuts and examined it with awe - like a darts player who's just bought his first-ever yoghurt. "You can tell it's healthy," he announced, "Because the packaging has green on it. Also, there's a swirl that looks like a tree, or a sunflower. It's saying 'earth', it's saying 'nature', and look, there's the word 'well'."

"If you look even closer," I offered, wanting to encourage this sudden interest in healthy-eating, "It also says 'A better way to snack', so hopefully, it's nutritionally superior to Cheesy Wotsits. But what is it, exactly?"

"Wasabi Peas!" he announced, proudly, like he couldn't quite believe his luck. "They're a snack that's healthy! A snack that's good for you. Isn't that great? No more evil peanuts for me! The summer diet starts NOW."

And off he went, presumably to lose three stone through the sheer vitality-giving powers of Wasabi Peas. I must admit, I thought, hang on - wasabi? Isn't that an incredibly strong Japanese mustard? But I didn't say anything, because he was so proud of himself for choosing a "healthy" snack over a dry-roasted cardiac-attack.

Then the screaming started. Only after he'd run past me shrieking, then shoved his head under the cold tap, did he attempt to speak.

"It's ... like ... " he stammered, wiping his streaming eyes, "It's like someone put a mustard-gas canister up the back of my nose and detonated it. My cranial cavity is completely empty."

Then the bellowing started. "How? How is this a snack?" he demanded. "And not the Japanese revenge for Hiroshima? I have no sense of taste or smell left. How is this supposed to make up for denying myself honey-roast peanuts?"

"To be fair, it says it's a 'better' way to snack, not necessarily a tastier - or even a safer way," I ventured.

"Better? Better than what?" he raged. "Being disembowelled by zombies? I've just had my cheeks burned through by dried peas covered in lava. Believe me, I can think of better things!"

I wanted to say, welcome to the lives of women everywhere, sweetheart. We're constantly being offered "healthy" alternatives to naughty food, but are they ever any good? The truth is - hardly.

OK, most of these substitutes for unhealthy, saturated fatty, caffeinated, hydrogenated, genuinely tasty food don't usually make your head explode, but my whole adult life seems to have been spent being disappointed by them.

Take carob, for instance. It's supposed to be chocolate without the sin, but it's more like someone crumbled up ancient bourbon biscuits, hammered them into a block and said: "This is like chocolate - but healthy! Enjoy!"

But you can't, because however nutritious it might be, the taste of carob still makes you want to end it all by leaping into a vat of Cadbury's, screaming: "Life's too short for healthy alternatives!"

Anybody trying to eat properly will, at some point, become disenchanted by something which seems to offer improved wellbeing, but tastes like fishermen's feet. The main culprits I can think of include every single herbal tea on the market - they smell like Ribena but taste like a hedge; chicory faux-coffee; Textured Vegetable Protein (the greatest horror of pre-Quorn vegetarian life); and, the worst so-called substitute of all - fruit instead of pudding. How is that a real choice?

Would you like Black Forest gateau, or a pear? Would I like a kiss from George Clooney, or my teeth extracted with a pneumatic drill? Let me think ...

My husband has learned the hard way that healthy, hard lumps of mustard can never truly replace calorific, salt-smothered, roasted pieces of unhealthy heaven. But I get the feeling he doesn't mind any more.

I caught him wandering around, Wasabi Peas in hand, still munching. So I asked him what on earth he was doing. "They make me feel manly," he replied. "Peanuts are for boys. Only real men can handle Wasabi Peas. Besides, I've learned that if you eat them one at a time, they're quite nice a nd since the packet says ‘Consume within seven days,' I have to eat them all day, every day, if I'm going to finish them before they go off." And if he eats nothing but Wasabi Peas for seven days, he might even lose some weight. Which, I suppose, is quite healthy.