French Friday: Vegetarian Cassoulet (and My New Approach to Bad Moods)
We’re on day two of no sunshine in my part of the world, and I am very much feeling the effects. Despite the neon daffodils in the bedroom and the fragrant pink hyacinths on the dinner table perfuming the entire apartment, these are dark days. The snow has melted and the cozy hot chocolate evenings are behind us, but the warm bright days of spring still not yet here; this is not what I would call seasonal easy street. It’s a tough transition. And you know how I am with transitions.
Here’s an idea for any of you struggling with a dark patch, seasonally or emotionally. Someone offered me a bit of radical advice last night that I found liberating, empowering: what if we didn’t pathologize our bad moods and dark days? What if we just gave them space to be and, in time, to pass? Accepted them for what they are, and then let them run their course––no judgments.
We live in such a happy face culture that a bad day can feel downright dangerous, threatening to our efforts at happiness and sense of progress. No matter how many times it happens, I worry that a bad mood marks the beginning of The New State of Things: the first day in a long life of misery. But our paths in work, in love, and in life, as I have to learn time and again, are not on a funicular-like course of continuous, rising ascension. We take two steps forward, two steps back. And then four steps forward. And then a little step back. And on and on.
Another aspect of happy face culture? We love to see things in black and white. Happy=good. Blue=bad. In meditation, I am trying to imagine my thoughts as if they were passing images on a dim, black and white movie screen. What if we approached our moods with the same sort of detachment? What if we let them play out, not worrying that any bad feeling is tightly knotted to our core sense of ourselves and what it means to be us?
And what has this to do with cassoulet? Perhaps not all that much, except I can’t imagine a better recipe for these cold, gray days of March. Whereas by the end of winter I am growing weary of tomato-based soups, the pale color palette of this cassoulet feels like a harbinger of spring, while the richness of it wards against the cold edge of dreary days. I liked this so cassoulet so much, and it so affordable compared to stocking up on duck confit, that I’m not sure I feel a reason to ever make the traditional version. It’s all about the garlicky, homemade breadcrumbs.
Happy––or unhappy––weekend, friends. No judgment.
Vegetarian Cassoulet
from Gourmet
for cassoulet
3 medium leeks (white and pale green parts only)
4 medium carrots, halved lengthwise and cut into 1-inch-wide pieces
3 celery ribs, cut into 1-inch-wide pieces
4 garlic cloves, chopped
1/4 cup olive oil
4 thyme sprigs
2 parsley sprigs
1 Turkish or 1/2 California bay leaf
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
3 (19-ounce) cans cannellini or Great Northern beans, rinsed and drained
1 quart water or stock (I used about a tablespoon of Better than Bouillon)
for garlic crumbs
4 cups coarse fresh bread crumbs from a baguette
1/3 cup olive oil
1 tablespoon chopped garlic
1/4 cup chopped parsley
Make cassoulet:
Halve leeks lengthwise and cut crosswise into 1/2-inch pieces, then wash well and pat dry.
Cook leeks, carrots, celery, and garlic in oil with herb sprigs, bay leaf, cloves, and 1/2 teaspoon each of salt and pepper in a large heavy pot over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until softened and golden, about 15 minutes. Stir in beans, then water, and simmer, partially covered, stirring occasionally, until carrots are tender but not falling apart, about 30 minutes.
Make garlic crumbs while cassoulet simmers:
Preheat oven to 350°F with rack in middle.
Toss bread crumbs with oil, garlic, and 1/4 teaspoon each of salt and pepper in a bowl until well coated. Spread in a baking pan and toast in oven, stirring once halfway through, until crisp and golden, 12 to 15 minutes.
Cool crumbs in pan, then return to bowl and stir in parsley.
Finish cassoulet:
Discard herb sprigs and bay leaf. Mash some of beans in pot with a potato masher or back of a spoon to thicken broth. Season with salt and pepper. Just before serving, sprinkle with garlic crumbs.
Brie.: my girlfriends and i always say we want to feel our feelings, but not trust them – in that it’s important to allow the feelings to run their course, but it’s not necessarily an accurate picture of the current state-of-play.
now if only i could get my fiance to eat an entire meal made of vegetables…1 year ago
E. McAlhany: You are reading my mind today. Thanks for this post!1 year ago
Ann Flora: I chose acceptance as my word for this year 2011, and it really seems to work well for feelings. Instead of resisting a “bad” day or mood, I take it for what it is without the dread story line, just as you said. Amazingly, those “bad”
days or moods seem much more bearable and move along more quickly than when I denied them and tried to get happy, lending truth to the saying that what we resists, persists. Funny how long it can take us to just accept what already is.1 year ago
Katie: Oh, I needed to hear this – badly. I’ve been having a rough week (no sunshine here, either – the daffodils are helping keep me sane) and I’ve been judging myself for feeling dragged down and dreary. It’s hard not to do so, in our happy-face culture – you are so right.
So, no judgment this weekend for me, either. Just an acknowledgment of what is. And some cozying up with friends, and good books, and tea.1 year ago
Brie, I love that: feel our feelings but not trust them. That’s a bit of genius, there!
E, Glad we synced up!
Ann, That’s something I’m learning to: that when you let in something it usually passes faster than if you try to keep it out and resist it! I call it “honoring the inner wimp”!
Katie, As if the feeling isn’t bad enough, we have to have a feeling ABOUT the feeling–not fair! You always know what sounds just right to me: good friends, books, and tea. I’ll raise you pajamas, too.
1 year ago
Julia (Color Me Green): i find that after the fact, i look back on darker reflective times in my life with a certain fondness, that black and white movie moodiness of which you speak. it’s harder while it’s happening and you’re caught up in frustration. i suppose it’s important to remind ourselves that the unhappiness is just a temporary stage.1 year ago
Cadi: Well, whatever it is that is causing all of these blue moods is catching clear over here in California too. Daffodils have only done so much. But I like the idea of feeling one’s feelings but not trusting them, and will deploy this tactic as well as accepting it for what it is. This too shall pass.
Good friends, books, tea and pajamas can definitely help a dour mood. I raise you and Katie both a glass of good wine in said pajamas to help it along.
Your veg cassoulet looks wonderful, by the way. Leeks are one of my favorite spring veggies! Have a great weekend, Sarah!1 year ago
Amy C: I always tell myself and my clients that there is a big difference between “coping” and “joining” when it comes to our emotions. “Coping” with something is to try and DO something about it – for example, perhaps if I exercise more, then I won’t feel so bad about my body. “Joining” is to sit – really sit – with those emotions. Why do I feel bad about my body? Can I just allow that feeling to be there, hold it, breathe with it? Do I really need to “solve” it? I constantly have to remind myself to stop coping and to start joining.1 year ago
Julia, Not only is the unhappiness temporary, but maybe, just maybe, there’s something good in it. A lesson, some quiet, some time to turn in. Then again, maybe not, but it will pass.
Cadi, Ooh, I love the raising of the stakes! (If you really love leeks you should give this frittata a try.)
Amy C, So beautifully put. Thank you for that.1 year ago
popcorn plays: while this vegetarian version looks tempting, i just can’t imagine a cassoulet without goose fat.
1 year ago
Sarah: I love this post. I agree with you about happy = good and sad = concerning and bad. Like you, when I am having a streak of sad, I try to just notice it and not pass judgement about it. Easier said than done, of course. But far better than deciding that now I am a Sad Person. Instead, I try to view life as in a state of equilibrium or disequilibrium and wait it out.1 year ago
Julie: Great post, Sarah! I’ve been thinking a lot about happiness lately (mainly to remind myself that I’m in charge of how much of it I have), but it’s nice to be reminded that we have emotions for a reason. It’s good to get mad and angry, too!
So happy to see this veggie cassoulet. I’ve been on a serious kick with that all winter – it’s so comforting and delicious!1 year ago
Popcorn, Your comment cracked me up, and yes, I can certainly understand where you’re coming from!
Sarah, It is easier said than done, of course. It’s a practice, like training a dog to sit, to not see ourselves as Sad People (or, Happy People, too I guess!)
Julie, Of course you would have been loving this all winter! You always make the best stuff.1 year ago
BethP: I love what Amy C said. I always try to “solve” my bad moods with something like wine or shopping or yoga. Not there’s anything so wrong with any of these to brighten the mood, but even yoga, sometimes, just doesn’t work. I really like the idea of trying to sit with these emotions and allowing them to be without letting the “feeling about the feeling” consume me on some horrible downward spiral of doom.1 year ago
Cordelia: Did you happen to raid the Trader Joe’s flower section? Because those are the exact flowers I have–plus tulips. Thank goodness today went from rainy to gorgeous and sunny. Mood saved!1 year ago
Sasha: Sarah, thanks for reminding me to get on the daffodil, spring flower bandwagon! I forget how they can brighten up your day. At least it sounds like you weren’t caught in that downpour last night! I thought my umbrella was going to lift me off the ground last night leaving work after working late. Luckily I shared a cab with a friend to the hood. Sometimes I think it’s helpful to think of emotions like the weather–always changing. And after the downpour usually comes the sunshine; I guess that’s why they say there’s always silver lining to every cloud!
1 year ago
Renee: The timing of this post is perfect for me – it’s been a bad mood week all around. The drawn out winter is definitely taking its toll. So good to know I’m not the only one that lets the bad moods ride out…and yes, they do go away. Sometimes all it takes is a little chocolate and a mini dance party to the B 52′s! Your cassoulet sounds delicious. You had me at the breadcrumb topping!1 year ago
Ginger: Oh, Sarah… you literally just saved me from the debate (that was winning) of takeout tonight. A new (wonderful, though tiring) job has left me cooking far less than I used, since recipes, shopping, and inspiration (not to mention energy) is harder to come by on long days out.
But this looks so delicious… just what I was in the mood for, and I miraculously have all the ingredients!
You’re so often just what I need, practically. And while my mood in California is in a perpetually annoying state of happy, due to no good, moody dark days, I remember this brilliant quote from a dear former mentor of mine, in relation to how little control we have over our emotional “feelings.”
“Emotions are the shallowest part of your being; God doesn’t do his greatest work in the shallowest part of your being.”1 year ago
Gail Gordon: Sarah- Your cassoulet recipe looks absolutely delicious. I plan to try it…..And as for moods, as a wise young “old sage”, I found that what you are recommending…letting feelings just play out….occurred pretty naturally with me. Yet another plus of getting older, I suppose!
Your prose continues to delight and inspire me, Sarah! And to you I wish a wonderful awe-inspiring Spring!1 year ago
Tami -- Teacher Goes Back to School: I’m just now reading this Saturday and yet I had this EXACT conversation with two other close friends last night (who also happen to be yoga teachers). Perfectly said – I think I might read it in my next class.
Thanks for the recipe – I shall make it tomorrow.1 year ago
Beth: I so do this- life is running along swimmingly, birds chirping and butterflies fluttering (apparently I live in a Disney forest, who knew?) and then something sends me into complete meltdown and I’m convinced I’ll never smile again. My brilliant little sister told me to look at life like a gorgeous piece of cake on my plate, with my emotions as the icing- the cake stays the same (life hasn’t actually changed) just the depth of the icing might vary (sometimes I”m up, sometimes I’m down…).
Helps, for me at least, to separate my emotions about life, or how I perceive my life to be going, from how my life is actually going.
Plus, you know, you have that lovely image of a towering piece of cake in your head. And that’s always fun. Unless you’re dieting, in which case you’re probably just grumpy because you need a breadstick.
Good luck with your case of the Marches. May it be shortlived.1 year ago
Cordelia, You are some sleuth! Your comment cracked me up. Yes, all the flowers were from TJ’s!
I love all of these comments so, so much. You’re a wise bunch, ladies.1 year ago
Kristine: I just made this and it is so delicious! Thank you for the recipe! Very fitting for this rotten snowy March day and my grumpy mood. I just blogged about it. Yummy!1 year ago
Ali Knapp: WOW this is SO delicious, I had to swap in a tin of black eyed beans and 1 tins of mixed beans for the canellini beans because I just couldn’t get any, but it did no harm because it was spectacular.
Thank you so much.
Oh wow, yay, Ali! I’m so glad you loved it! It’s been kind of a gray and rainy day here and I wish someone would come to my house and make it for me!
1 year ago
Margaret: So I’m late coming to this table, but I was casting for inspiration and went to the “Feast menu” which gave me this entry on the first page (such a good job balancing topics for posts, Sarah). It’s lovely to see all the supportive comments here, the positive energy.
As for the recipe, I never seem to be able to make leeks work for me, so I think I’ll try it with cabbage, a new trend in my no-spring-vegetables-yet life. Sounds scrumptious!1 year ago