By Eric Schaefer
By New Times
By Rachel Miller
By Eric Schaefer
By Heather Hoch and Lauren Saria
By Robrt L. Pela
By Heather Hoch
By New Times
My brain hurts. I've been trying to figure out what to have for dinner. Normally, such a decision would be no big deal: I've always been a carefree grazer, eating whatever I want whenever I want, virtually never falling into a three-squares-a-day routine. I snack on small bits of this when I crave it, tiny bits of that when it looks good, nibbling constantly depending on how hungry I am and when I happen to be awake. Calories, nutrition, middle of the day feasting, middle of the night snacking, who cares, so long as my belly is full and I'm happy?
Since visiting Soma, though, I can't stop obsessing about food. I can't relax; all I can think about it what's for my next breakfast, lunch and dinner. Worse, my noggin is clicking like a calculator, totaling every meal's content of protein, carbohydrates, fat, fiber and calories. It's getting in the way of my chewing pleasure.
Soma, see, is a restaurant that serves top quality, tasty fast food. Its menu is designed by one of the Valley's most celebrated chefs, James McDevitt (former owner of Restaurant Hapa, current owner of Mika, and owner of the future Budo in Napa Valley). Soma looks just like another upscale bistro, complete with a full-service coffee bar and wine or beer selections. We can get fashionable noshes like mahi mahi tacos with ginger carrot vinaigrette, sake glazed chicken with jasmine rice and spinach, pork tenderloin with ginger plum barbecue sauce, or crepes stuffed with apple-cranberry tart. Yet Soma not only seeks to serve us our suppers, but to enhance our lives with health, fitness and nutrition. The stylish cafe opened just before Christmas last year, in a strip mall appropriately anchored by Whole Foods, next door to Just for Feet sportswear shop, and down the street from an L.A. Fitness club. The restaurant is weirdly sponsored by Reebok, and uses phrases like "engineered nutrition science," with recipes based on "data from the fields of clinical nutrition, exercise physiology and medicine." While we're told fine taste is paramount, everything on the menu is broken down by how it can fit into a perfectly balanced achievement of our personal dietary goals, whatever they may be.
Which is why, trying to figure out what to eat now, I'm so frazzled. Because instead of random compulsive feeding like I usually do, I'm following a carefully plotted methodology. I figure that if the smiling diners around me at Soma have greater plans than just grabbing a nice meal when they order cold chicken peanut soba or grilled salmon on whole-wheat flatbread, I can, too.
I've quickly figured out I'm too dense to plot my course on today's popular diets (Atkins, with its massive protein binges and no more than 40 grams of carbs daily; Pritikin, with its high fruit, vegetable and grain plan and less than 10 percent fat daily; or the I Luv My Colon Diet, with a name I made up but which does exist as high fiber loading. I can't even begin to consider Weight Watchers, which ascribes "points" to food so each bite must be tracked on an abacus and meals rotated like a Rubik's cube).
Instead, calorie counting is the only diet rule I've ever understood. So I approach my Soma trial from two opposite extremes. I try a low calorie diet, in case I want to lose weight. This isn't difficult: portions of exotic stuff like Soma's banana leaf-wrapped grilled salmon tend to be tiny. Then, I experiment with a high calorie schedule, pretending I'm in training for a triathlon. This is more difficult. Surviving on Soma could put me in the poor house, with a petite plate of steak costing $16.50, and two pancakes commanding $5.75.
The results? I like Soma a lot, from its elegant ambiance to its fare -- much more flavorful and satisfying than I would have imagined. (Who'd have thought steak and eggs could be healthy, but it is here, with thin slices of lean tenderloin tossed with non-fat mozzarella and scallions, at just 297 calories. Even a simple grilled tofu sandwich is enticing, thanks to a slick of tangy hummus, for 375 calories). But for me, number crunching isn't going to cut it. Some may be at Soma for its health aspects; I'll be here just to eat and enjoy.
I should weigh somewhere between 120 and 150 pounds, I find out. That's according to the "healthy weight for height" chart as calculated by the Dietary Guidelines for Americans committee. I learn that the government has decided it takes about 2,000 calories a day for a typical gal like me to maintain my figure. But if I need to lose weight, it's recommended I limit myself to 1,200 calories. Or, if I'm highly active (part Jack Russell terrier, for example), or need to gain weight, I can gorge on up to 2,800 calories.
I start my Soma diet in pursuit of losing weight, selecting from the cafe's lowest calorie choices. Breakfast is the Garden Scramble, clocking in at 159 calories for a 50/50 mix of egg whites and yolk littered with bits of green and red bell pepper, onion, broccoli floret, mushroom and scallions. It's a little dry, a little bland, but really not bad. I add on French toast (226 calories), which is hardly real French toast, given its two slices of skinny wheat bread dipped with a trace of buttermilk, some egg whites, a sprinkling of cinnamon and bits of dried apple. Still, it's not a bad start, paired with cups of good strong Seattle-based gourmet Tully's coffee.