Amuse Bouche

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I am not a foodie. I thought about it for a time when I dated a guy that knew how to create an amazing meal from the most random ingredients, but it didn’t really stick. Let’s face it, when I’m hungry, I eat. That doesn’t leave much room for artful concoctions or presentations as I tend to nibble the ingredients away first:)

Plus, I have an amazing ability to eat the same thing over and over. For years. My current obsession? Sweet and spicy popcorn. I invented it (okay, probably not really, but I doubt there’s a patent anywhere) after one of my students was talking about cinnamon sugar toast and my gluten free belly got jealous. Here’s the completely not-fit-for-a-cookbook recipe:

1) Make popcorn – I put kernels in a plain brown lunch bag, fold the top over a few times, and put in the microwave. Look ma, chemical-free microwave popcorn!

2) Melt a little bit of coconut oil and drizzle over popcorn.

3) Top with salt, stevia, cinnamon and….chili powder.

Serious yum. Just don’t ask me for proper wine pairings.

During my brief foray into foodieism, I was treated to a meal like no other – endless courses paired with matching cocktails that ignited areas of my palate I didn’t know existed. The entire restaurant held less than a dozen tables and the chef, as though on a stage, occupied a central kitchen. It was an amazing, and entirely foreign, experience for me.

I was also introduced that night to a concept familiar to those in the restaurant world – amuse bouche.

An amuse bouche is a little tidbit, a morsel, that the chef prepares while you’re waiting for your first course. It is intended to awaken the palate and to highlight the chef’s talent. The term literally translates to “mouth amuser.”

What a cool idea.

The amuse bouche is never intended to be a stand alone meal. It is not designed to meet all of your nutritional needs nor will it ever fill you up.

It is just a little smile, a hint of anticipation, a distraction from your rumbling belly.

Looking back, much of my dating (aka Match Madness) was like a series of amuse bouches (the plural may be completely grammatically incorrect but you get the idea) – little dates that were never intended to fulfill the needs of a real relationship. Distractions from my rumbling brain. Hints of what was to come when it was time for the real thing.

Amuse redez-vous.

It’s okay to smile while waiting you’re waiting for the real thing.

 

 

 

 

Guilty Pleasures

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Have you ever noticed that children do not understand the concept of a guilty pleasure?

Sunday afternoon found me in the bath tub after the completion of a daunting to-do list. I decided to do this bath right – I had the window open to listen to the rain, a glass of wine and a newly downloaded Kindle book. I had no rush, no worries.

As I lay back into the scented bubbles, enjoying the feeling of my arms floating, cradled by the warm water, I was taken back to my childhood.

I used to spend hours in tubs – both of the hot and bath varieties – savoring the slippery denseness surrounding my buoyant frame. I would stay in the waters until hunger or a completed book drove me out, never feeling guilty for wasted time or feeling pressure to accomplish something more meaningful. On the nights I spent at my dad’s apartment in my childhood, he would knock on the bathroom door to check on me about every 30 minutes. Many nights, he made it to four knocks before I finally emerged from the tub.

I understood the concept of pleasure. But I never thought to associate it with guilt.

So why does that change? Why do I now feel guilty or lazy when I indulge? Why do I judge myself?

Part of it is out of necessity. When we are young, our parents and guardians act as our voice of reason, limiting our overindulgences (“You can only have two cookies”). We do not have to self-limit; it is done for us.

But, at some point, that regulation has to shift to us. We have to learn how to work before play and eat our broccoli before our ice cream. We become the care takers and the needs of others are placed before our own. Without that mental management, we would all be living in our parent’s homes, eating Oreo’s all day and playing video games. Well, except for me. I’d be in a bath tub with a book. And probably broccoli.

The problem is that, at some point, many of us get too good at using that internal voice. Not that we always obey it (Ever had an internal argument about if you should eat that dessert? Yeah, who won?) but that we usually feel guilty when we do not.

We indulge. But we don’t necessarily enjoy.

That dessert tastes much better when you’re not berating yourself for eating it. The hope is that the internal monologue of guilt will keep your willpower in check. That if you feel bad about the behavior, you will avoid it in the future. Reality doesn’t work that way. Rarely does guilt about an indulgence keep us in check. We just act as though it does. The reality is that our cravings for whatever the indulgence are more fully satisfied when we fully give in to the experience.

So what’s the answer? How do we balance our need for self-regulation and yet still enjoy our indulgences without guilt?

I know that I am going to let my parental mind set my guidelines and then turn control over to my inner child to enjoy the experience.

All I can say is that it’s good my Kindle has limited battery power. Otherwise, I may never get out of the bath:)

Nourishment

Posted on by stilllearning2b

In my former life, I viewed eating as a purely functional act.  I was not concerned with the quality of food that entered my mouth, as long as it contained the proper macronutrients at the proper time. For almost ten years, my lunch consisted of a premixed protein shake because it was high in protein, low in calories, and could be sucked down in 15 minutes while I tutored struggling students in the school cafeteria.  For ten years, I was content with that lunch.

Then something changed.  I realized that not only did I not look forward to lunch, but that I had even begun to dread it.  The shakes met my nourishment in the most basic sense, but that was all.  At this point, I had already begun to visit my kitchen for more than a chat with the microwave, so I decided to restructure my lunches to incorporate what I was learning in the kitchen.

I had to start with the practical: my hours as a teacher are long and my lunch times are short.  I needed to be able to find foods that could be cooked and prepped on Sunday and reheated quickly at school. I started by collecting recipes and cookbooks (about the only kind of book that didn’t fill the shelves in my old life).  I found I enjoyed seeking out ideas and combinations, always seeking to maximize my veggie intake and ensure that I would get substantial protein and fiber with each meal.  I learned that raw veggies have to be limited; there simply is not enough time to eat them all.  Likewise, finger foods are a no-go in the germ laden land of a middle school.  Even with those limitations, the options seemed endless.

An amazing metamorphosis occurs in my fridge every weekend.  Mounds of greens and veggies are chopped and cooked into submission and divided into color-coded containers ready for the week ahead. The house fills with the aromas of a variety of spices, as the sounds of the food processor echo through the house.  The island is the scene of assembly line style food preparation.

The consequences of the change in my lunch menu were astounding.  My health improved; I no longer caught every cold that came through the school.  My attitude improved, as I had a lunch I looked forward to (this is especially a motivator on Monday mornings).  My afternoon workouts improved, now that I had enough fuel in my system to support the training.  I became a de facto educator about plant-based diets as teachers and students began to inquire about my lunch.

But, most of all, I found nourishment.  For my body.  And for my soul.

I send the message to myself every weekend that I am worth the effort. That I matter. That feeding my needs is just as important as feeding the needs of those around me.

I kept the menu for this week simple; it is a short week and I don’t want to dedicate much of my time off to cook.  I decided to make Hottie Black-Eyed Peas & Greens from Appetite for Reduction, one of my go-to cookbooks for healthy, easy, vegetarian meals. I always try to incorporate fruits and veggies of different colors in every meal, so I’m adding sweet potatoes mashed with almond milk and vanilla rice protein along with some blackberries, since they were on sale;)

Here’s the food ready to cook.

And here, after 45 minutes of preparation (barring the work the ol’ trusty slow cooker did overnight on the beans), is the final product.

I’m waiting to pack the blackberries until Wednesday morning, so that is why they are absent.  Now, I can enjoy the rest of my time off knowing that I have healthy, nourishing food to get me through the week.

Attitude

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I’m often complemented on my positive attitude about everything that happened to me.

It hasn’t always been that way.

I was angry. Furious that the person I trusted most in this world betrayed me in the most horrific ways, causing me to lose everything I held sacred. I cursed him. I dreamed violent dreams. I wanted to cause him pain. I lived in a perpetual state of fury with all flames directed at him.

I was bitter. Resentful that I made choices about my schooling and career based on him and then he abandoned me. I focused on the unfairness of the sacrifices I had made for the marriage and for him that he spit upon with his actions.

I was jealous. Envious of others whose spouses stayed faithful or at least stayed around long enough to talk. I compared my situation to others’ and bemoaned my particular tale.

I was ashamed. Embarrassed that his deceptions went on for years and I did not see them.  I questioned myself endlessly and doubted myself constantly.

I was victimized. I saw myself as hapless prey caught in his crosshairs. I focused on what was done to me, keeping myself at the center of his choices.

My attitude couldn’t do anything to change the past. Being angry wouldn’t make him apologize. Being bitter wouldn’t open up new careers. Being jealous wouldn’t make my ex suddenly faithful and honest. Being ashamed wouldn’t make me pick up on the lies any earlier. And being a victim wouldn’t help me learn how to thrive.

I had no control over the past. No way to change what happened. But I could change how I responded to it.

So, slowly, ever so slowly, I did.

I let go of the negativity that was still holding me hostage. It was not an easy road. It took hundreds of miles running on the trails and hundreds of hours on the yoga mat. It took writing a book and writing a blog. It took therapy and friends. It took a new dog and a new love. And, most importantly, it took time.

The truth is that I still feel those negative emotions towards him and what happened. Some days more than others. The difference is that now I don’t allow them to move in. They visit and go on, leaving room for laughter again.

Look at all that teenage attitude!
Look at all that teenage attitude!

It never ceases to amaze me how much of a difference attitude can make. I recently found myself complaining about my Sunday chore of cooking for the week. I was feeling bogged down and tired of the weekly planning, shopping and cooking that takes up a sizable portion of my weekend. I realized that I was viewing this as part of my work week; I was allowing it to steal several hours of my weekend. Then, I decided that was not okay.

I can’t change my need to cook. It is a necessity for my health, my job schedule and my budget.

So I changed my attitude. For the last few weeks, I have approached my weekly cooking task as though I was making preparations for a dinner party. It makes menu planning more interesting and keeps me in a good place while shopping. As for the cooking? Well, that’s now the best part. I first take some time to prepare some veggies, cracker and hummus and arrange them on a plate where I can nibble while I work. Then, I crank up the tunes – they vary according to the mood of the day and can run from bagpipes to death metal. Finally, I pour a glass of Cabernet to sip on while I chop up the endless pile of veggies.

Sunday cooking has gone from a chore to something I actually look forward to.

And all because I changed my attitude.

More, Please

Posted on by stilllearning2b

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My cat has developed a poor habit of late. She herds us towards her dishes and yowls incessantly, asking for more even though her bowls contain adequate amounts of food and water. It’s like she looks at them but doesn’t believe them. She can only be silenced by the sound of the food in the container where we store it. A simple mock pour will placate her for a time until she yet again demands more of what she already has.

It’s an exasperating habit, especially since she seems to be most likely to share her anguish between the hours of two and four. In the morning.

I don’t know what drives her need: fear? confusion? greed? dominance? Or maybe she just finds humor in making her humans dance.

The act, regardless of its motivations, drives me crazy. But I can relate.

There are times in my life when I exclaim that I do not have enough instead of seeing what I actually have.

“I don’t have enough time.”

Yes I do. But this sentence shifts the responsibility off of me and onto the rapidity of the earth’s rotations. Clever, huh? What I really mean when I use this phrase is that the purposed actions are not important enough for me to make time. Time is there. It’s up to me how I allocate it. It’s also up to me to learn to take responsibility for that.

“I don’t have enough money.”

This one is fear talking. I have enough money to live, to pay my bills and have some fun. What I don’t have is enough money to sooth my anxiety, a fallback fund large enough to quell fears about the future. I’m (slowly) working to build that fund, but in the meantime, I can work on the fears, many of which are rooted in unreality.

“I don’t have enough stuff.”

Yup, confusion talking here. It’s all too easy to get caught up in the idea that happiness can be bought. I find myself flipping through catalogues or fighting the urge to hit the stores when I am unsettled in some way. Material goods will only distract for a short time. Happiness can only be found within. And, the reality? I have the stuff I need.

“I don’t have enough followers/likes/comments/book sales.”

Let’s be honest. It’s nice to have people want to hear what you have to say. It’s nice to be appreciated. respected. It’s nice, but it’s also a slippery slope. It’s easy to get carried away with the numbers game, only feeling validated when they reach some ever-increasing quantity. The problem then is that you never feel satisfied with what you have.  I’m working on bringing my yogic mind to blogging and accepting what is rather than wasting energy wishing for more.

How often do we fail to see what we really have? How often do we wish for more than we need? Look at what you have before bemoaning what you want.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go. My cat is yowling for more food.