Just a little bowl of rice

Such a simple dish. The glue that holds a meal together. The thing you don’t even bother mentioning when someone asks what’s for dinner. A culinary afterthought. And yet.ImageOnce a taken-for-granted component of every home-cooked meal, this simple bowl is now the devil on my shoulder. I know I should be eating brown rice. More fiber, better GI, yadayadayada. But I don’t like brown rice. It doesn’t clump together with that sticky, delicious moisture. I can’t grab it as easily with my chopsticks. Its strong taste overwhelms the delicate flavors of my meal.

So I go for the white. It’s just half a cup! I even leave a few bites at the bottom of the bowl, trying to convince myself that I’ve successfully offset the sugar spike that is awaiting me. My reward: a two-hour postprandial reading of 157 mg/dL. Not horrific, but decidedly not healthy.

You can run, but you can’t hide.



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