For my entire food love life, which is basically the number of years I have been alive, I have been plagued by conflict. Raised by one vegetarian parent, whose meal-making repertoire spanned the Whole Earth Catalogue, I was taught to consider carob chips as a very special treat. My other, carnivorous parent reveled in the rare opportunities to spoil me with “Home-Fried Taco Shell Night” and sly donut stops on the way to the dump. This devil and the angel phenomenon now haunts my kitchen time—one voice whispers to steam veggies and substitute stevia in my whole grain baking projects, while the other yells to go ahead and make that traditional coconut cream pie. I grapple constantly with being “healthy” or using the “real thing,” striving for purity of body or purity of original flavor. But in the end, can’t these two food philosophies converge?

Yes.  I think the solution lies in simply trusting in the nourishment of whole, fresh ingredients.  By now, the semantics of “eating local, organic food” are familiar to most. I would guess that most of our bookshelves hold many of the same titles and that Michael Pollan has eloquently won most of your hearts like he has mine.  But beyond these commonalities in food consciousness, our diverse and intimate day-to-day choices remain. No matter how strictly you adhere to brown rice and raw celery, there is bound to be an imbalance in your diet.  Even if a batch of gluten-free, Xylitol raw cocoa nib cookies has a very low glycemic index, I would not feel satisfied if I were to eat a dozen in one sitting. Most likely, I would spend my time craving one classic chocolate-chip cookie.

I know that there are a lot of people who have very real food allergies, and alternative ingredients and substitutions are a welcome dietary breath of fresh air. I am not arguing against this fact. I am merely presenting the idea that sometimes using real, whole foods—local and in season—can offer a holistic kind of nutrition, even in the form of one delicious slice of pie. A couple of butter-fried farm eggs or some responsibly raised bacon (if you eat meat), are okay to occasionally “indulge” in, in place of  a daily intake of highly processed tofurkey.

This past year I have gotten a lot of practice cooking for a Type 1 diabetic. My new glimpse at blood sugar control has brought more experience to my kitchen exploits.  I weigh the grams of everything going into a dish, shop for much more proteins and dairy, and fill my freezer with nuts. I am familiar with the research regarding Agave vs. Stevia, Xylitol vs. Splenda, and I have tested the use of all of them in baking.

In the end, when I watch my boyfriend savor that one rare bite of true chocolate pudding, as his eyes close in sheer bliss, I know that he has gotten so much more enjoyment out of that one bite than he would have with any number of diabetic-friendly products. As long as the pudding is not always around, he will stay healthy. As a cook, I find that my appreciation for the ingredients used in this recipe (my friends’ chickens laid the eggs, the bittersweet chocolate is fair trade and a local dairy produced the whole, cream-top milk), evens out my guilt for using a little bit of evaporated cane juice, a.k.a. sugar.  Moderation is key, no matter who we are, what we are stricken with, or what we believe. As Michael Pollan so succinctly says, “Eat food, not too much, mostly plants.”

Angel Pudding

(adapted from Mark Bittman’s Mexican Chocolate Tofu Pudding recipe)

¾ cup Xylitol

1 lb. silken tofu

8 oz. high-quality bittersweet chocolate, melted

1 tsp. vanilla extract