Erica De Mane

Marcello snacking in bed? How un-Italian of him.

This is a problem. I never was much of a dessert person, but if I ate early and had time to kill, hanging around reading or watching TV, I’d start craving another glass of wine—totally bloating and unnecessary. And after finishing off the dregs of the bottle, I’d sometimes go back for round two and finish off that last piece of lasagne, or stuff in a few more meatballs. It’s just the same for you who crave sweets. The more time you’ve got to digest your food before bed, the more attractive that tub of gelato, hunk of salami, or extra vino is. Solution: Eat late. As late as you can. When you eat at six o’clock, unless you’re a farmer who has to rise before dawn, what are you going to do all night? Watch TV and raid the refrigerator is probably the answer. So drag it out, eat at nine, as they do in Italy and Spain. I love stuffing myself and then lying down with a book—usually a cookbook, wouldn’t you know it—and a couple of cats on my chest. All of a sudden it’s midnight, and I’m still full from dinner and ready for sleep (and I sometimes even wake up in the morning feeling full).

I’ve always heard that you shouldn’t go to bed on a full stomach. It’s bad for acid reflux, and calories eaten before bed are somehow super calories, harder to burn off and quickly turning to fat. The calorie part is simply not true, according to recent studies, including one from Oregon Health & Science University. Our bodies don’t stop working and burning calories when we sleep, so there’s no special time when we store fat. The same meal eaten at six or at nine will cost the same number of calories and be processed by our bodies the same way. The problem, insofar as there is one, is that late evening is a notorious time for binge eating. But that’s why a healthy, low-calorie late-evening dinner, with no snacking, has worked for me (and if you go out to eat, it’s easier to get a reservation at a late hour).

Now that I know calories are calories whenever consumed, any trick that stops me from squeezing in an extra little meal is worth it. When I was a kid my family would often have those huge Italian Sunday suppers at five or six, with the “big” sauce loaded with meatballs, sausage, braciole, and hunks of pork. I’d feel stupefied afterward, but then around ten or ten-thirty, my father and I would be hovering around the refrigerator digging for leftover meatballs and sausages to make huge hero sandwiches with. We’d have dinner all over again. Even as a kid, I felt that there was something wrong here, and as I watched my father’s gut expand to beach-ball dimensions, I became convinced of it. No one over the age of two needs four meals a day. So get a grip. Dispense of your American or Italian-American eating habits. Eat like a real Italian. I’m sure Marcello would have never eaten in bed; this was just for the movies.