Other than skin disease or the loss of beauty, youth and wealth, dieting ranks high in the annals of life’s lesser triumphs.

No one likes to diet. Some of us must for serious health reasons while others merely muse over losing a few unpleasant pounds to mollify errant notions of fitness and form.

I hate dieting. But lately I've been losing the proverbial battle of the bulge. Ever since Thanksgiving right to this very moment, food has reared its lovely wand of temptation like the most incorrigible temptress.

I love food, I love to eat out and to be deprived of it is unacceptable. In the past I’ve been able to maintain my weight through sensible eating and consistent exercise. If I have a large lunch I’ll cool it at dinner time. If I know I’m going to have a big evening meal, I’ll try to get to the gym and stay an hour longer, trolling through cardio and other exercises. I’m a tennis player and that helps to keep things in check, too.

But lately there’s been more intake than take-out. And the recalcitrant rhythms of a middle age metabolism only add insult to easy injury.

It’s a hateful situation. What? Growing old or growing a paunch? I suppose by standards I’m not really overweight. Rather, I’m in that universal camp where 8 to 10 pounds of paring down would be welcome.

What finally got me to take action was none of my clothes would fit. I felt like Elvis getting into skin tight pants, except I’m not Elvis. Shirt collars were no less snug than the hangman’s noose. At one point I had gone to my tailor with a half dozen shirts to have the top buttons inched over just a bit. He knew. What a waste of time. Just pare down.

I’m glad to say that I’m beginning to win the battle of the bulge with a steady application of sensible eating.

No matter what the experts say, a low-carb diet is the quickest way to lose weight.

I don’t espouse the Atkins diet, which is too heavy on fat. Other regimens like Sugar Busters or the South Beach Diet are too stringent.

You lose weight fast on those diets because you’re basically asked to starve. Whenever I’d look at these plans I’d give up. Atkins was the easiest because you could just stuff yourself with high-fat cheese and slabs of bacon and thick steaks rendering a simulacrum of fullness.

But it’s not healthy. I don’t know why someone doesn’t come up with a sensible plan that is attainable, not drastic and follow the principles of an Atkins diet without the extremes.

This is basically what I’ve been doing. I’ve banned white bread, white potatoes, all processed sugars (aka desserts). Wine and liquor are kept to a minimum.

In the morning I make an egg beater omelet with lean ham or Canadian bacon. And lunch can be just about anything as long as it’s not folded in a wrap or two slices of bread. I’ll often have soup, which is very filling. Just be sure it doesn’t have rice in it as a thickener.

I've managed to get an occasional fix at Duckfat by having a cup of soup and one of their salads

A good place for a soup lunch is Walter’s on Exchange St. When they serve the crab-clam bisque, don’t miss it. It’s delicious. It’s not the best choice for the low-carb dieter because it has a high tomato base, but it’s not bad either.

Dinner is either fish, chicken or lean pork. With that I have loads of vegetables cooked in interesting ways so you feel like you’re eating something worthwhile. To replace potatoes I’ll prepare pureed cauliflower and sometimes have mashed sweet potatoes, which is high in fiber.

The other night I had grilled salmon with a delicious sauce of reduced fish stock, lemon, some butter, leeks and ginger. With that were pan sautéed zucchini and tomatoes and pureed cauliflower.

What was missing and which I craved madly was a sweet. The moment passed, and I was OK.

Still dieting means limitations. And none of us really like that. My plan doesn’t succeed in rapid weight loss but works over a reasonable time to show results. It all depends on how strict you are. But you don’t feel terribly deprived and you can eat more than you can’t.

Still, for me, it’s not always so easy. While I have a simple enough time watching what I eat, it’s where I eat that gets me into trouble.

As you well know I love to eat out. Whether it’s a business breakfast, a quick lunch or a sumptuous dinner, I’m always on the food prowl. This can be either at home, where I entertain a lot, or at restaurants.

The other day I was in Saco, that so-called up and coming town that planners like to point to as a model of rejuvenation.

It was lunchtime and I surveyed the offerings along Main Street. Saco’s Main Street is a true small-town, downtown center. There’s a florist, a drugstore, an insurance agency, an appliance store, a shoemaker and various eateries.

The first one to catch my attention was the Golden Rooster. This is the sort of place where one can arrive slim and leave fat. Oh, but that’s just what I like-- those greasy spoon coffee shop diners offering some semblance of home-style cooking.

I kept saying to myself, don’t go, don’t go. It won’t be worth it. But I did. I walked in, surveyed the room and knew immediately that I had to leave. I saw humongous plates being brought to the table piled high with fried mounds of fish, chips, fries, burgers and all else that can be plunged into the deep-fryer or greasy grill.

The next place down Main Street was an Italian restaurant that looked sort of interesting. But I ruled it out immediately. It would surely serve gobs of mozzarella, heavy pasta sauces, and breaded cutlets.

In the distance was the Lily Moon Café, which I knew about but didn’t realize was in Saco.

I entered a packed room except for one table in the corner, which was still uncleared. I saw diners having plates and bowls of such things as couscous, grains and other wholesome foodstuffs. Here was a sensible place for me to be.

I sat at the uncleared table and waited until someone came over to clean it, give me a menu and inquire as to my luncheon needs. Nothing happened.
After about 5 minutes I walked out. I figured if it took this long to be noticed, how long would it be before I could eat? Charm is pleasant. Slow service--when you're hungry--is a drag.

I went back to the Golden Rooster and figured there had to be something for me.

I sat at the counter, joining a few regulars who’ve probably been going there all their lives. One woman looked at me a bit suspiciously, but I buried my head in the menu and then the newspaper, a local gazette that was about as otherworldly as this lunch counter.

The menu had it all— a total anathema to any sort of dieter. Pork chop dinner, with mashed potatoes and peas and carrots. All sorts of fried fish platters, hamburgers, bulging wraps, and stews—but nothing for me.

I could have chosen one of the salads but didn’t. I knew it would be a pile of dry chicken breast over a stack of woebegone iceberg lettuce.

I finally decided on one of the specials that day, beef stew.

It was a simple bowl of beef, peas, carrots, potatoes, celery in thick flour-based gravy. I ate around the potatoes, leaving behind half the stew as a gesture of moderation. It was laden with flour, and who knows what else. It wasn’t very good, giving Dinty Moore’s a run for its money.

I headed back to Portland, chewing on a piece of sugarless gum as though it were dessert.

Dinner that night was grilled pork tenderloins, great big cuts of boneless center cut pork that Pat’s Meat Market had that day.

I browned them in the pan and finsihed the cooking in a very hot oven. It was served with pan gravy of reduced beef stock, thyme, a drop of honey, figs and a pat of butter at the end.

With that was sautéed spinach and braised endive, a wonderful recipe that I’ve been making for years from Roger Verge’s vegetable cookery book. The endive is sautéed in a bit of butter until lightly browned, then braised in beer in the oven with a small amount of bread crumbs and Gruyere on top. It’s not the most low-calorie dish in the world, because of the beer, but in moderation it passes muster.

Dining out is the biggest impediment to losing weight. When you eat at home you can control what you have.

For me, I began to feel like I was at home with Martha Stewart, keeping her company under house arrest.

I just had to go out to eat the other night. So we went down the hill and slid into a table at 555. I knew I’d be able to find something on the menu that wouldn’t put me over the top. I declined the bread basket, but I did order a cocktail.

I started off with their house-cured salmon, which was delicious.

For a main course I ordered sword fish. So far, not only was I having low carb and low fat, but low calories too.

It was served on a bed of arugula with braised fennel and a blood orange sauce that was actually an emulsion of poached oranges in simple syrup and finished off with butter. With that came potatoes cooked in bacon fat and grilled. For the purposes of my diet this was not ideal. But if you’re going to stray you might as well do it splendidly.

Five-Fifty Five has a new pastry chef who hails from Arrow’s in Ogunquit, and is supposed to be a genius. I abstained and will wait for leaner times.

In the last 8 days I’ve lost about 5 pounds. It hasn’t been total deprivation. In fact it's been fairly painless. In another week I’ hope to be in fine form.

Well, it’s Friday night, and I don’t want to stay home. We’re going out to eat.

I was in the mood for Bandol, where I could see myself navigate its various morsels with restraint.

But who’s kidding whom? I’d dig into all of Erik Dejarlais’ wonderful creations with unmitigated gusto.

So we settled on going to Back Bay Grill, where I thought I’d be able to show more restraint.

Really? Isn't that like saying we’ll take the Rolls tonight instead of the Bentley?

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