Pink of Perfection

After my usual holiday over-doing it, It feels good to board the healthy eating bandwagon. And while it’s probably not the best habit to bounce from extremes (steak, bourbon, gravy to kale, green tea, soup), it does make me very eager for the change. I was stuffed with cookies and cheese; it felt good to alter course.

And perhaps a little surprisingly, it tasted delicious. After my brother-in-law sent me a link to My New Roots, I started seeing this vibrant Danish blog mentioned everywhere. She designed the recipes below, and they’re wonderful.

One of the recurring questions among my friends is, “Why is it so hard to do what’s good for you?” Cause lord knows it usually is. But there’s also a kind of snowball effect once you get going with decisions that affect your well-being. When you feel good, you want to keep feeling good. You begin to even crave the habits that make you feel bright, content, and fluid.

Here’s an example: I spent this past weekend in the first part of an Anusara yoga immersion. Going in, I was a bit terrified of what six hours of yoga two days in a row would feel like. I should have been more concerned about returning to my desk Monday morning and sitting in a chair for eight hours. Come evening, I’d usually rather watch another rerun of Roseanne than put on yoga pants right before bed. But on Monday evening a few pre-bedtime twists was the right choice for me.

The ultimate challenge, I think, is getting from feeling bad, mired in habits, depressed, whatever the current stuckness may be, to finding a spark that can spur a new kind of decision. Many of us tend to force ourselves out of it, but a friend of mine takes a more gentle approach. A change can start with the smallest choice, she says, and we’ll bring it on when we’re ready. I find that comforting. We don’t need to strong arm ourselves into new habits or new eras; it’s not a matter of force, it’s a matter of ease. And when we’re ready we’ll know it. I read a section in a book last night on receptivity that seems fitting:

Receptivity is a practice many people find difficult, because we live in a culture that says things are accomplished primarily through doing. This attitude creates a bias toward knowing, planning, taking action, a kind of predatory attitude toward life––where we decide what we want, focus on it, and go for it at all costs. But how many of us have done this only to be dissatisfied with what we get?  ––The Practice of Wholeness

Being receptive seems to fit beautifully with back to basics and leaning into the life we have now: being open to ourselves, our thoughts, our sense of whimsy, being open to the world around us and the people and obstacles we meet each day, and being open to every joy, quirk, and marvel in the moment to moment moment of the everyday. “We may experience a sense of magic or serendipity––wherein events happen which fit our needs perfectly. Seemingly remarkable coincidences [...] are the result of our receptivity.”

And so back to feeling good, and specifically these recipes. Please, dear heavens, don’t see these dishes or this post as an admonition. If anything, it’s an invitation to be receptive to where you are, wherever you are, right now. If they recipes appeal to your senses at this moment in time, I promise they’re both really lovely. And no one’s saying you can’t eat a little kale slaw before a nice steak, either.

Continue reading “Detox Recipes That Taste Really Good” »

Even though we’ve rolled into June and you might be mostly interested in crisp salads and bright-eyed, open-faced sandwiches, the truth is that there are still some nights, like this past Saturday night, when there’s a nip in the air and a breeze through the window and curry seems a perfect match for the table. Just a like a lady who, upon first meeting, you know is destined to be a bosom friend, there are certain recipes that when they grace your stove––even when you first dip your spoon in for a taste during cooking––you know are bound to be regulars. Since I first made this recipe in April, I’ve made it two or three more times. And that is a rare thing in our house, where I am always seeking enchantment by a recipe both new and unfamiliar. This one, first prepared for me on a weeknight by my friend Alison, is a keeper. It also marks the beginning of my love affair with full-fat Greek yogurt: oh, yes.

Continue reading “Potato and Pea Curry” »

It’s always immensely entertaining––and perhaps a tad unnerving––to have any firmly-held ideas of who you are and what you like turned upside-down. Take cooking: I think of myself as a bit of traditionalist. In restaurants, I’ll ooh and ahh over creative twists, but in my own kitchen I’m a straight-shooting classicist. I like banana bread without candied ginger and my cinnamon rolls sans raisins.

Since my very first kitchen, I wanted to master the basics. It seemed like a way to create comfort in my new grown-up life with familiar favorites: roast chicken, chocolate chip cookies, French onion soup. But once I felt confident and had a pocketful of tried-and-trues to turn to, I began to want to stray the course rather than stay it.

And then along came this split pea soup recipe, and I don’t think I’ll be making the classic split pea soup recipe for a long while.

Start with a base of onion, garlic and crushed red pepper cooked in butter. Puree the split peas and stir in velvety coconut milk. Brown butter and season with curry powder. Drizzle spiced butter over your soup and dust with chives. You can see how this would change your mind about a ham hock, can’t you? Have you ever stumbled across a new recipe that made you toss out your old tried-and-true favorite?

Continue reading “Split Pea Soup with Brown Butter, Coconut Milk & Chives” »

Is it just me, or is it as hard to properly eat this time of year as it is to get dressed? One day we’re bundling up in our down coats and craving spaghetti and meatballs, and the next day the scent of hyacinths is in the air and we’re craving big, fresh salads. It’s a shape-shifting season. You got to be ready to roll with it (as much as you just really, really want to wear your new sandals).

That’s why I like this soup, which features one of my favorite ingredients in the world: lentils. The red variety falls apart and becomes velvety soft, but the whole affair is brightened with spring greens and puckery lemon. I like to think of it as a marriage of opposites for this strange period of season-straddling: hearty warmth meets vibrancy and light.

Continue reading “Red Lentil Soup with Spinach and Lemon” »

My mom always had a knack for parties. There was my dress-as-your-favorite Barbie birthday party (peaches and cream, naturally) and, before my time, the teddy bear picnic my sister still talks about. But one of my happiest childhood memories was the cookie swap we had one Christmas. I remember the rustling plaid taffeta of little girl party dresses and our dining room table covered with cookies and three-tiered silver trays. That was when I tried my first rosette, brought by a classmate and her grandmother: light as air, whisper thin, and dusted with powdered sugar. I was in heaven.

Without the grand silver and taffeta party atmosphere, a soup swap is founded on the same idea: every attendee brings something and gets to go home with something else. In this case, I piggybacked on my book club meeting (Angle of Repose, if you’re curious), and asked everyone to bring two 4-cup containers of soup.  We then went around in a circle, each person nabbing their first soup choice. Then we reversed the order of picking for the second choice.

I love the feeling of a wholesome meal just waiting and ready to go in the freezer. In fact, my second favorite part of making soup is freezing half of it (who says you can’t have your soup and eat it, too?). But there is something especially nice when someone else has made that meal that waiting for you, nearly as comforting as when your mother tricks out your freezer herself. Because of our soup swap, I had a wonderfully spicy chicken sausage, chard, and black-eyed pea soup one day when the cupboards were bare. And still, a a vegetable soup awaits for some night when exhaustion and hunger rule with an iron fist. In other words, some night very soon.

So, I’ve mentioned I’m on a detox. I know, I know––it’s so predictable it’s almost embarrassing. How utterly ordinary to swing from boozing till the wee hours and devouring giant steaks in December to drinking green tea and eating millet in the new year. Well, what can I say? I never promised to be an iconoclast.

But I’m also no joyless misery guts, either, that much you should know by now. Eating is one of our greatest sources of daily pleasure, and just looking at those glorified-starvation-detoxes makes me hungry. I cannot abide a shake for dinner and another for lunch, even if it is made out of kelp and various green things. Any kind of eating––whether it be over-the-top or plain and humble––should be a joy. Even if it’s just a teeny zing of pleasure like the crunch of a sweet-tart apple or the first sip of coffee in the morning, or something more deeply moan-worthy, like a perfectly cooked steak or something oozing with cheese. Why not enjoy it?

Strange as it sounds, this detox (Day 4 and counting!) has actually been enjoyable––and I don’t think I could have handled it any other way. My coffee-deprivation headaches have abated, and I finally had the reason to make homemade Larabars. I did have a a deep hankering last night to get in bed with a cup of hot chocolate and my borrowed copy of The Blue Castle, but it passed. (The desire for hot chocolate, not my need to hunker down with this bizarro book!)

I probably would not have elected to make this soup under other conditions, but that would have been a shame. It is a rich soup, deep and nutty from almond butter, made bright-eyed with fresh lime, ginger and a bit of mint and cilantro. It’s the perfect warmer for these dark winter January days, and one that won’t set you off track with any intentions you may have. (I still like the resolution shared in the comments last year to “make my body sing.” Sounds lovely, doesn’t it?)

Continue reading “Almond Chicken Soup” »

Here’s some evidence that I’m getting old: randomly, and without any real intention, I didn’t want any of the usual holiday nosh. I started wanting to eat lots of vegetables, hearty soups, and truckloads of tea. It may have begun with that cold of mine that lingered on, but then this desire for healthy, wholesome food just stuck around. And at the high cookie season, to boot.

Then, I started becoming a fan of moderation. Me! The woman who eats chocolate truffles in bed! I could hardly believe it. I only wanted one drink––maybe two. I eased off on seconds at dinner. None of this happened because I was trying to do something drastic, like revolutionize the way I eat. If anything, it might have simply been the result of just being a little more mindful of what this old body of mine seemed to want.

The other day I had a near catastrophe: I woke up to find we were out of coffee. I bundled up and hustled off to the grocery store first thing (observation: a different breed of folks grocery shop in the morning). A scene nearly as awe-worthy as a babe in a manger awaited me there: I had never seen the pastry display so overflowing with glossy, sugar-coated delights. I treated myself to a chocolate croissant. And then, for the rest of the morning, I felt like crap.

I take this to mean I’m getting old. You know how people talk about not being able to eat the same stuff they used to? Well, it’s happening. For this moment in time, at least, I seem to be embracing the concepts of moderation and mindfulness in eating. I predict, however, that it will not last through the annual Tex-Mex Christmas Eve at my mom’s house.

This is all a long way of saying that I decided I didn’t want my gifts to be part of the make-you-feel-like-crap problem of sugar crashes this year. I feel confident there will be no shortage of decadent treats for any of us, but what we all might need are the makings for a spicy, deeply aromatic chickpea and lentil soup, or a healthier granola made with pumpkin purée.

And I say this all knowing that very soon I will tell you about my recent strike of baking genius: Nutella chocolate chip cookies. Stay tuned.

And in the meantime, if you’ve still got a few gifts to give and you’re feeling a little more festive than lentil soup, I humbly suggest some of favorite sweet treats:

Continue reading “Lovely & Delicious Homemade Gifts” »

Now, I’m no Italian donna. I grew up on tomato sauce in a jar and spaghetti cut with a knife. So I’ll freely admit up front that I’m no bastion of Italian tradition. Be that as it may, I do know that a bowl of pasta e fagioli is one of the most comforting dinners on earth, even for a Scotch-Irish girl like me. Homey and rich without being heavy, this is a supper that fills the house with good scents and makes you really feel like you’re doing something for your own good. Ideally, a mother would make this and bring you a bowl on the couch, along with a cup of milky sweet tea or a glass of wine and ask if you’d like a blanket or need the pillows behind your back rearranged. But as is, just made and served by you, it is still a comforting wonder.

Let us not overlook that the comfort comes not just at the end, when you’re leaning over the bowl and lifting a spoonful of fragrant broth to your lips. It begins at the cutting board, when you are standing there chopping (hacking?) away at carrot, onion and celery. I find that’s a good a way as any to dissolve the anxieties of the day.

Continue reading “$5 Dinner: Pasta and Bean Soup” »