Treatworthy

Do you remember the famous episode of Seinfeld in which Elaine is despondent over the fact that her favorite form of birth control—the Today contraceptive sponge—has been pulled from the market? She goes all over town in search of any remaining sponges and ends up buying a whole case of them.

But once she has a stockpile, she has to face the dilemma of when to dip into her very limited supply. Hence the critical decision as to whether a prospective sexual partner is "spongeworthy," a term that instantly entered the pop-culture lexicon.

I've been thinking about spongeworthiness of late because of a similar phenomenon in an entirely different context.

Back in October, when I decided to really focus on what I ate, I adopted a three-prong austerity diet: nothing fried, no junk or processed food, and no gratuitous sugar. I abided by these rules for an entire month, during which I received the first normal results I can remember on my cholesterol and triglycerides tests.

With that momentum behind me, I decided to stick with the plan, with one variation: to keep temptation at bay, I'd allow myself the occasional treat. For these purposes, "treat" meant anything that broke one of my three rules.

I thought a lot about how often to permit myself to indulge. Once a month seemed too austere. Once a week was appealing, but I feared it might easily slide into two or three—or seven—times a week.

I compromised at twice a month, which I thought would be a sustainable practice. And, I'm pleased to say, it has been exactly that.

The good thing about giving myself this limit is that I really think about what I want my bi-monthly treats to be. And here's where the "spongeworthy" analogy comes in.

Many times I'll be confronted with something that in the past would have been difficult to resist. For example, at work last Friday we had both gourmet cupcakes and homemade chocolate-chip cookies as part of a farewell for two colleagues. Earlier the same day, my sister dropped off 42(!) boxes of Girl Scout Cookies that I had sold to co-workers on behalf of my two nieces. That meant that people all around me were breaking out the Thin Mints and other delectable varieties, with lots of sharing going on.

I have to say that I honestly wasn't tempted by any of it.

No, really.

In the first place, I'd rather use my allotted treats on ice cream—my all-time favorite food.

In the second place, Friday was February 1, and I just couldn't see indulging on the very first day of the month.

The cupcakes were decadent and gorgeous, and the homemade cookies—still warm!—smelled incredible. So I thought for a moment about digging in. But neither was truly treatworthy. Not when I thought about all the amazing ice cream and gelato out there. And especially not when I knew that Valentine's Day would surround me with all manner of decadence in just two weeks.

It's been even easier to eschew the smaller temptations I encounter every day: the candy and chips and mediocre French fries that are practically inescapable in my daily travels. If I have to choose between the instant gratification one of them might provide and the guaranteed satisfaction that ice cream will bring—even days or weeks hence—it's just no contest.

At some point I will probably branch out a bit and incorporate some other treats into the rotation.

Maybe white-corn tortilla chips with homemade guacamole.

Or truly exceptional frites, piping hot and salty.

Or possibly a warm slice of devil's-food cake.

À la mode, of course.