Honey Mustard Salmon with Roasted Asparagus
YOU’LL NEED
1 Tbsp unsalted butter
1 Tbsp brown sugar
2 Tbsp Dijon mustard
1 Tbsp honey
1 Tbsp low-sodium soy sauce
1 lb asparagus, trimmed
2 Tbsp olive oil
¼ cup freshly grated Parmesan
Salt and pepper to taste
4 salmon fillets (6 oz each)
THE BEST LIFE
Secrets of
the stalk
PICK IT
Buy asparagus that’s
bright green and firm,
with unopen tips, says
Tal Ronnen, author of
The Conscious Cook.
STORE IT
Wrap the ends in a
damp paper towel,
and store in the fridge
in a sealed zip-top
bag. Eat within 3 days.
PREP IT
Bend each stalk like a
twig. The woody portion
should snap off at
just the right place.
COOK AND WIN!
Submit your own fast
recipe for a chance to
win a 12-piece Cuisinart
Green Gourmet
Cookware set, a $250
value. See MensHealth.
com/shortordercook.
1 Heat the oven to 400°F.
Combine the butter and
brown sugar in a bowl and
microwave until the butter
and sugar have melted
together, about 30 seconds.
Stir in the mustard, honey,
and soy sauce.
2 Toss the asparagus with
1 tablespoon of the oil, the
Parmesan, and some salt
and pepper. Place the
stalks in a baking dish and
roast until they’re al dente,
10 to 12 minutes.
3 Meanwhile, heat the
remaining tablespoon of oil
in an ovenproof skillet over
high heat. Season the fillets
with salt and pepper and
add them to the pan, flesh
side down. Cook them until
browned on one side, 3 to 4
minutes. Then flip them,
brush on half the honey
mustard, and place the pan
in the oven. Bake until the
salmon is firm and flakes
easily (but before white
solids begin to form on the
surface), about 5 minutes.
Remove the fillets from the
oven and brush them with
more honey mustard. Serve
the salmon with the asparagus.
Makes 4 servings
PER SERVING 360 calories,
38 grams (g) protein, 17 g
fat, 550 milligrams sodium
Know Fear By Ben Mezrich
Know Fear By Ben Mezrich
“LISTEN VERY CAREFULLY, BECAUSE THIS IS IMPORTANT.”
It was a little after 2 in the morning, and I was standing outside a dive bar in
Osaka, Japan. The man next to me was wearing a bright-red Hawaiian shirt. He
reeked of cigarettes and Japanese whiskey. “There will be a table of men sitting
behind you through the whole interview,” he said. “You are not to look at them.
If you turn around, even for a moment . . .”
He left the thought hanging there, and I didn’t ask him to elaborate. I was
there to speak with a yakuza crime boss, and the man in the Hawaiian shirt was
my liaison. The yakuza aren’t like the guys you see on The Sopranos. They cut off
their own pinky fingers to give to their bosses when they do something wrong.
This was an insane moment—for anyone, really. And especially for me.
The thing is, I’m not a brave person. I’m neurotic, utterly cautious. Obsessive
hand washing, Purell addiction, a general level of fear involving electric plugs, balconies,
men over 6 feet tall—I have it all. After reading about viruses and bacteria,
I developed hypochondria so serious that my health-care
provider wouldn’t make appointments for me. Now I own
a handful of Israeli gas masks. Following a few terrible
flights, my fear of flying is so extreme that I can overcome
it only with numerous rituals.
And yet I’ve carved out a career by documenting the
exploits of wild-eyed adrenaline junkies who do dangerous
things—count cards at casinos, dig deep into the dirty world of big oil, steal from
ultrasecretive government organizations. To learn their stories, I often have to follow
them into harrowing situations. A contradiction? Not really. The embarrassing
truth is that I wish I had the guts to live life the way those thrill seekers do. But
because I don’t—and really, I know I never will—I can at least be near them,
along for the ride but never anyone’s prime target.
I used to think of this career choice as a loophole—a way to circumvent my fear
and live a little—but it’s turned into a bizarre form of therapy. I can never confront
all my little fears; there are just too many of them. But by making it through the
largest, most tangible of dangers, I can prove I have the ability to save my own
ass at any time. That yakuza crime boss? We talked. I learned what I needed from
him. Maybe he didn’t like me, but at least he didn’t kill me. And the next time some
meathead freaks me out on the subway, I can think of the bigger man I faced
down (okay, maybe that’s overselling it) and feel a little safer.
Because really, fear is about control—or a lack of control. By not taking risks
and confronting my fears, I gave them full power over me.
That’s why I accompanied a blackjack prodigy on a trip to rip off a casino. He
could predict when an ace would turn up in the deck—a pretty neat stunt that, if
discovered, could land him bloodied up in a Vegas back room. He told me all about
it, but I decided I wanted to see it in action, risk be damned. So we sat down at a
table and soon had eight or nine grand in chips to the plus side. I was feeling good.
Relaxed. Then he suddenly started to gather up our winnings, a stricken look on his
face. I glanced over my shoulder to see three large men in security uniforms coming
toward us. Here it was: the worst-case scenario.
Except, not. I’ve learned that in any dangerous situation, my first step should
always be to take stock of what I can control. I know that I can always walk (or
run) away, so I often plan an exit strategy. I map out where I can flee, and what
might bog me down. Maybe it’s not always realistic, but I do my best to think it
through. Because when I know I have a safety net, I feel less like I’ll need one.
But if I do need to run, my planning is useless if I panic and can’t think clearly.
Which is why, if things turn heated, I picture myself outside the moment entirely,
in a place of control. For me, that’s at the computer: I see the scene as if I were
typing it out myself, making rational decisions, navigating danger without the
scenery collapsing around me. That’s how I was thinking as I ran at top speed
out of that casino. Maybe the men were chasing me, maybe they weren’t. I never
looked back, and I was safe.
Moments like that can make you cocky. They can trick you into pushing your
luck, losing sight of the boundaries of safety. Which is why I still take my fears
seriously, even if I no longer let them guide me. They’re a good warning signal. But
now I feel in control of my neuroses and not the other way around. So what if I still
unplug every toaster, microwave oven, and TV in my apartment every time I leave
the house? I’m leaving the house, aren’t I? Leaving to find a man in a Hawaiian
shirt, who will tell me what to do.
Ben Mezrich is the author of the bestseller Bringing Down the House, which was the inspiration for the film 21. His
latest book, The Accidental Billionaires, about the founders of Facebook, is due out in paperback this May, and the
movie version will be released later this year.
“LISTEN VERY CAREFULLY, BECAUSE THIS IS IMPORTANT.”
It was a little after 2 in the morning, and I was standing outside a dive bar in
Osaka, Japan. The man next to me was wearing a bright-red Hawaiian shirt. He
reeked of cigarettes and Japanese whiskey. “There will be a table of men sitting
behind you through the whole interview,” he said. “You are not to look at them.
If you turn around, even for a moment . . .”
He left the thought hanging there, and I didn’t ask him to elaborate. I was
there to speak with a yakuza crime boss, and the man in the Hawaiian shirt was
my liaison. The yakuza aren’t like the guys you see on The Sopranos. They cut off
their own pinky fingers to give to their bosses when they do something wrong.
This was an insane moment—for anyone, really. And especially for me.
The thing is, I’m not a brave person. I’m neurotic, utterly cautious. Obsessive
hand washing, Purell addiction, a general level of fear involving electric plugs, balconies,
men over 6 feet tall—I have it all. After reading about viruses and bacteria,
I developed hypochondria so serious that my health-care
provider wouldn’t make appointments for me. Now I own
a handful of Israeli gas masks. Following a few terrible
flights, my fear of flying is so extreme that I can overcome
it only with numerous rituals.
And yet I’ve carved out a career by documenting the
exploits of wild-eyed adrenaline junkies who do dangerous
things—count cards at casinos, dig deep into the dirty world of big oil, steal from
ultrasecretive government organizations. To learn their stories, I often have to follow
them into harrowing situations. A contradiction? Not really. The embarrassing
truth is that I wish I had the guts to live life the way those thrill seekers do. But
because I don’t—and really, I know I never will—I can at least be near them,
along for the ride but never anyone’s prime target.
I used to think of this career choice as a loophole—a way to circumvent my fear
and live a little—but it’s turned into a bizarre form of therapy. I can never confront
all my little fears; there are just too many of them. But by making it through the
largest, most tangible of dangers, I can prove I have the ability to save my own
ass at any time. That yakuza crime boss? We talked. I learned what I needed from
him. Maybe he didn’t like me, but at least he didn’t kill me. And the next time some
meathead freaks me out on the subway, I can think of the bigger man I faced
down (okay, maybe that’s overselling it) and feel a little safer.
Because really, fear is about control—or a lack of control. By not taking risks
and confronting my fears, I gave them full power over me.
That’s why I accompanied a blackjack prodigy on a trip to rip off a casino. He
could predict when an ace would turn up in the deck—a pretty neat stunt that, if
discovered, could land him bloodied up in a Vegas back room. He told me all about
it, but I decided I wanted to see it in action, risk be damned. So we sat down at a
table and soon had eight or nine grand in chips to the plus side. I was feeling good.
Relaxed. Then he suddenly started to gather up our winnings, a stricken look on his
face. I glanced over my shoulder to see three large men in security uniforms coming
toward us. Here it was: the worst-case scenario.
Except, not. I’ve learned that in any dangerous situation, my first step should
always be to take stock of what I can control. I know that I can always walk (or
run) away, so I often plan an exit strategy. I map out where I can flee, and what
might bog me down. Maybe it’s not always realistic, but I do my best to think it
through. Because when I know I have a safety net, I feel less like I’ll need one.
But if I do need to run, my planning is useless if I panic and can’t think clearly.
Which is why, if things turn heated, I picture myself outside the moment entirely,
in a place of control. For me, that’s at the computer: I see the scene as if I were
typing it out myself, making rational decisions, navigating danger without the
scenery collapsing around me. That’s how I was thinking as I ran at top speed
out of that casino. Maybe the men were chasing me, maybe they weren’t. I never
looked back, and I was safe.
Moments like that can make you cocky. They can trick you into pushing your
luck, losing sight of the boundaries of safety. Which is why I still take my fears
seriously, even if I no longer let them guide me. They’re a good warning signal. But
now I feel in control of my neuroses and not the other way around. So what if I still
unplug every toaster, microwave oven, and TV in my apartment every time I leave
the house? I’m leaving the house, aren’t I? Leaving to find a man in a Hawaiian
shirt, who will tell me what to do.
Ben Mezrich is the author of the bestseller Bringing Down the House, which was the inspiration for the film 21. His
latest book, The Accidental Billionaires, about the founders of Facebook, is due out in paperback this May, and the
movie version will be released later this year.
Steal this move The giveand- run
Steal this move The giveand- run
Think you’re
smooth? Try
living up to Matt
of Minneapolis,
who told me
this story when
I asked my
Facebook fans
for their best
moves.
“One day, during a
stressful, hectic
week for my wife, I
left work and raced
home while she
was out—and gave
the house a full
cleaning. Stripped
the beds, washed
the floors, and
went back to work.
I came home that
evening to a wife
who was sobbing
with happiness.”
Nice, sure. But
here’s what made
it: He went back
to work. Had he
waited for her
return, it would
have looked like
he wanted brownie
points. And then
she’d have felt
obligated to put
on a show of gratitude.
The next time
you do something
sweet, make sure
it’s selfless—no
strings attached.
Believe me, the
reward will come.
Think you’re
smooth? Try
living up to Matt
of Minneapolis,
who told me
this story when
I asked my
Facebook fans
for their best
moves.
“One day, during a
stressful, hectic
week for my wife, I
left work and raced
home while she
was out—and gave
the house a full
cleaning. Stripped
the beds, washed
the floors, and
went back to work.
I came home that
evening to a wife
who was sobbing
with happiness.”
Nice, sure. But
here’s what made
it: He went back
to work. Had he
waited for her
return, it would
have looked like
he wanted brownie
points. And then
she’d have felt
obligated to put
on a show of gratitude.
The next time
you do something
sweet, make sure
it’s selfless—no
strings attached.
Believe me, the
reward will come.
My hook-up friend is visiting for the weekend.What do I plan?
My hook-up friend is visiting for the weekend.What do I plan?
If this is just for sex (you’re not falling for her, right?), then buy a box of
condoms and don’t prepare anything else. No romance, no candles, no sex
bunker. One reason casual sex can be brain-curdlingly hot is that there’s
no pressure to perform. You’re the rare guy she doesn’t have to worry about
impressing, so the more low-key you are, the more she’ll appreciate you. Just
be sure to prioritize her pleasure—and by that I mean more than repeated
and enthusiastic oral action. Send her flirty and inquisitive e-mails in the week
leading up to her arrival. Tell her what you’re “so turned on” about doing. And
ask, “What about you?” Then do that. With vigor!
On the beach, how do
I pick up women?
MIKE, PARIS, TX
With a six-pack of Corona
and a puppy. Don’t have
those? No problem—the
beach is the easiest place to
find an interested woman.
Just set up a game of bocce
or volleyball, or start building
a serious sand castle. (Skip
Frisbee; you’d be too far
apart to actually talk.) Then
watch for sunbathing babes
and invite any who peek at
you over their shades.
Why does my girl friend
want to make
out while we’re at a
bar with friends?
SAM, WILMINGTON, NC
She feels insecure. I’ve acted
publicly frisky when I wanted
to keep a boyfriend’s attention
on me, too. Had he taken
this advice, it would have
helped me chill: Don’t fool
around just before going out
(she’ll be hypersensitive to
follow-up affection). During
the night, keep the covert
reassurances coming: Hold
her hand, rub the back of her
neck. And whisper that she
looks so amazing you can
hardly focus. That’s what
she really wants.
I’m uncircumcised.
Is that a turnoff?
TIM, KANSAS CITY, MO
Not to me. But for some
women, maybe. It’s about
comfort—in what we’re used
to handling. If a woman hesitates
when she sees your
penis, she might be feeling
like she did back in high
school: What do I do with it?
That can make her feel awkward,
not sex-goddessy. So
laugh it off and reassure her:
Yes, there are differences
(like your sensitivity, so she
may need to lighten up on
the ol’ death grip), and you’re
happy to explain them. Or
better yet, guide her.
I heard my fiancée
tell her friend a sex
story about a former
fling. Is she still into
him?
MARK, ATHENS, GA
Hey, women try to one-up
each other with sex stories
just as men do. Problem is,
she can’t have you in the
starring role—because her
friends know you well and
don’t want the mental
image. Better that she talk
about that other guy: It
means he’s gone.
If this is just for sex (you’re not falling for her, right?), then buy a box of
condoms and don’t prepare anything else. No romance, no candles, no sex
bunker. One reason casual sex can be brain-curdlingly hot is that there’s
no pressure to perform. You’re the rare guy she doesn’t have to worry about
impressing, so the more low-key you are, the more she’ll appreciate you. Just
be sure to prioritize her pleasure—and by that I mean more than repeated
and enthusiastic oral action. Send her flirty and inquisitive e-mails in the week
leading up to her arrival. Tell her what you’re “so turned on” about doing. And
ask, “What about you?” Then do that. With vigor!
On the beach, how do
I pick up women?
MIKE, PARIS, TX
With a six-pack of Corona
and a puppy. Don’t have
those? No problem—the
beach is the easiest place to
find an interested woman.
Just set up a game of bocce
or volleyball, or start building
a serious sand castle. (Skip
Frisbee; you’d be too far
apart to actually talk.) Then
watch for sunbathing babes
and invite any who peek at
you over their shades.
Why does my girl friend
want to make
out while we’re at a
bar with friends?
SAM, WILMINGTON, NC
She feels insecure. I’ve acted
publicly frisky when I wanted
to keep a boyfriend’s attention
on me, too. Had he taken
this advice, it would have
helped me chill: Don’t fool
around just before going out
(she’ll be hypersensitive to
follow-up affection). During
the night, keep the covert
reassurances coming: Hold
her hand, rub the back of her
neck. And whisper that she
looks so amazing you can
hardly focus. That’s what
she really wants.
I’m uncircumcised.
Is that a turnoff?
TIM, KANSAS CITY, MO
Not to me. But for some
women, maybe. It’s about
comfort—in what we’re used
to handling. If a woman hesitates
when she sees your
penis, she might be feeling
like she did back in high
school: What do I do with it?
That can make her feel awkward,
not sex-goddessy. So
laugh it off and reassure her:
Yes, there are differences
(like your sensitivity, so she
may need to lighten up on
the ol’ death grip), and you’re
happy to explain them. Or
better yet, guide her.
I heard my fiancée
tell her friend a sex
story about a former
fling. Is she still into
him?
MARK, ATHENS, GA
Hey, women try to one-up
each other with sex stories
just as men do. Problem is,
she can’t have you in the
starring role—because her
friends know you well and
don’t want the mental
image. Better that she talk
about that other guy: It
means he’s gone.
Paging Online Doctors
Paging Online Doctors
SCORES OF WEB SITES INVITE YOU TO SEND QUESTIONS TO UNSEEN MEDICAL PROFESSIONALS. BUT ARE THEY WORTH THE MONEY?
THE TEST
We recruited J. Jacques Carter, M.D., M.P.H., an assistant professor of medicine at Harvard medical school, to write two detailed questions from imaginary patients. Patient 1, who had epiploic appendagitis (inflammation of appendages on the colon), reported a nagging pain on the lower left side of his stomach. Patient 2, who had pulmonary emboli (lung clots), complained of sudden spells of shortness of breath. Both conditions would require a physician’s care.
SCORES OF WEB SITES INVITE YOU TO SEND QUESTIONS TO UNSEEN MEDICAL PROFESSIONALS. BUT ARE THEY WORTH THE MONEY?
THE TEST
We recruited J. Jacques Carter, M.D., M.P.H., an assistant professor of medicine at Harvard medical school, to write two detailed questions from imaginary patients. Patient 1, who had epiploic appendagitis (inflammation of appendages on the colon), reported a nagging pain on the lower left side of his stomach. Patient 2, who had pulmonary emboli (lung clots), complained of sudden spells of shortness of breath. Both conditions would require a physician’s care.
A Virtuous Vanilla
A Virtuous Vanilla
With just 3.5 grams of fat and 110 calories per serving, Breyers All Natural Smooth & Dreamy Creamy Vanilla is a smarter choice than the superpremium brands. (Häagen-Dazs vanilla bean, for example, has 18 grams of fat and 290 calories.) If you prefer a more embellished scoop, skip the chunks and swirls and stick to varieties with marshmallows (which are low in calories) or nuts (which add a dose of healthy fats).
With just 3.5 grams of fat and 110 calories per serving, Breyers All Natural Smooth & Dreamy Creamy Vanilla is a smarter choice than the superpremium brands. (Häagen-Dazs vanilla bean, for example, has 18 grams of fat and 290 calories.) If you prefer a more embellished scoop, skip the chunks and swirls and stick to varieties with marshmallows (which are low in calories) or nuts (which add a dose of healthy fats).
MAKE ICE CREAM TASTIER AND HEALTHIER BY WHIPPING UP YOUR OWN TOPPINGS
MAKE ICE CREAM TASTIER AND HEALTHIER BY WHIPPING UP YOUR OWN TOPPINGS
When you stick your spoon into souped-up ice cream—with all those swirls of corn-syrup caramel, chunks of peanut butter cup, and gobs of brownie—you might as well be eating a giant candy bar. Enjoy some ice cream without all the dumb calories: Crown a scoop of vanilla with one of these simple, low-fat toppings.
When you stick your spoon into souped-up ice cream—with all those swirls of corn-syrup caramel, chunks of peanut butter cup, and gobs of brownie—you might as well be eating a giant candy bar. Enjoy some ice cream without all the dumb calories: Crown a scoop of vanilla with one of these simple, low-fat toppings.
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