A stone (in Britain) is equivalent to 14 pounds, and I think that’s what I’ve gained during my week in Estonia. (No pun intended: acknowledged, but not intended).
There seem to be a lot of reasons why:
We’re eating out in restaurants for every single meal.
‘Nuff said. Eating out isn’t known to be conducive to healthy or even reasonable eating.
Most of the restaurants we’ve gone to serve traditional Estonian food.
Not that there isn’t a lot to recommend traditional Estonian food in terms of healthiness, but there is a lot of fish involved (they even put herring in the potato salad, for the love of Pete!) and I don’t like fish. In one restaurant, there was literally ONE THING on the menu that didn’t involve fish or mushrooms: the two foods that I will never, NEVER eat. And that one thing was a breaded and fried chicken cutlet.
Salad is not the same in Europe as it is in North America.
Salad, in Europe (at least in the parts I’ve been to) seems to just mean a dish that has had a piece of lettuce waved over it at some point. Here in Estonia, they all seem to involve either herring, tuna, salmon (see above re: my feelings for fish) or chicken. In one restaurant, I ordered the "green salad". It had 3 pieces of shredded lettuce, a tomato cut in wedges, half a cucumber (sliced), two hard-boiled eggs, and was topped with a cup of cottage cheese and creamy dill dressing.
Wine has figured heavily at dinner-time.
It was fun the first two nights…it felt a little naughty and oh, so Euro and vacation-esque to indulge in a couple of glasses of wine during dinner. But MAN. I hate drinking calories. It just seems like such a waste. And if I thought it was hard to speak Estonian while sober, well, let’s just say that this is not a language improved by a bit of tongue-loosening. No, not one bit.
I have not been working in the fields like 17th century Estonian farmers.
But during our family’s visit to Rocca Al Mare (an outdoor museum featuring traditional Estonian farms from the middle ages onwards) we ate traditional Estonian meatballs. Can you say delish? We all ate them with great relish (not the condiment) but they were meant to refuel the human threshing machines that these farmers were, not the city-dwelling, cab-riding sloths of the 21st century.
The potatoes were super-yum too.
I think I’ll have to walk back to England in order to work off some of this!