National Eating Disorders Awareness Week: My Journey

A few years ago my cousin introduced me to Post Secret, a movement created by a very compassionate individual by the name of Frank Warren who created an outlet for people to anonymously mail secrets to him. The secrets can be funny, ridiculous, serious, sad, and anything in between. Every Sunday, he posts new secrets that millions of people read. Every Sunday, I am one of those millions of people that do. It’s a way, I think, for people to feel connected with others around the world. Sharing these secrets is a way to let go as well as bringing people together. It’s a relief know that there are others who are going through similar things or thinking the same thoughts.

Last Sunday’s secrets really hit home for me. They revolved around eating disorders. Here are a few examples:

(Probably the one that was the most personal and relevant for me.)

National Eating Disorders Awareness Week brings into light a very personal matter for a lot of people. It doesn’t just affect a certain weight, gender, age, or nationality. It affects a wide ranged of people for different reasons. It mostly is about a sense of control or the desire of being this ideal image or weight, but those aren't the only reasons.

I remember becoming extremely offended when this fight of what ‘real women’ look like started. Suddenly, naturally slender women were subjected to scorn in the media. I have friends of various height and weight combinations, and they are all exceptionally beautiful people. They have shown me that there is no one-size-fits-all aspect of beauty.

One of the things CK told me (and that I love him for) is that there is no such thing as the fairytale relationship. And so, this past weekend, he asked me a very hard question: “So then, why do you demand for the fairytale body?” This applied not only to my appearance, but also my health. It was one of those questions that not only broke down everything I tried to ignore, but once I let it out I couldn’t stop.

I don't refer to having had disordered eating as an eating disorder  because I believe the term 'eating disorder' places blame on the person suffering. Disordered eating is also more inclusive and, in my opinion, something you can rise from and have the power to change. Disordered eating has traveled with me like a codependent ally, needing me to need to control what I ate, when I ate, and how much. When I went to college, I lost a lot of weight. In total, my weight loss journey resulted in over 40 pounds. Most of it was due to changing my eating habits and preferring healthier options and exercising more. But when I became ‘thin’, I was deathly afraid of gaining it back. I’ve had panic attacks in the past because it was so terrifying to me to go back to that time when my body was a prison to the wonderful person underneath.

*Photos are from 1990 - 2012.

The evolution of my disordered eating habits became more about earning and deserving food than not eating. To be fair, I didn’t decide one day to be anorexic my sophomore year in high school. I just felt I didn’t have time to eat in the mornings and simply wasn’t hungry for lunch (and believe me, the food options in the cafeteria were not appetizing). So I would go almost twenty hours without eating, snack when I got home and then eat dinner. I drank hot tea in the mornings with lemon and sugar, but that was it. By the end of the first quarter, I was under 140 pounds, a first since I started puberty.

And then I got sick and began vomiting blood. The trip to the ER showed stomach ulcers from drinking tea (which is extremely acidic) on an empty stomach, and put a slight hole in my esophagus. I called this experience the time I was “accidentally anorexic”.

By college, I went gluten free (soy free and cane sugar free came about a year or two after). I started eating healthier and exercising and was rather happy with where I was at body image-wise. I changed my appearance often, even cutting my hair in a pixie cut. My exercising, however, became something I had to do and a way to cut calories. I would do the math and think: “Okay… I’ve burned a certain number of calories, enough to have burned off breakfast, and maybe that smoothie I want to have later.” (This is also known as exercise bulimia and a very common form of disordered eating.) I looked at my body more critically, wondering why I wasn’t getting the body I wanted. At one point I tried to survive on 1200 calories a day. I guesstimated my intake, so I’m sure I ate more than that. But it still stands that, while I was active and walking to class, I wasn’t eating enough. I think I even blacked out while driving at one point on my way back to campus housing for lunch.

When I started this blog, the first post began with me being hungry really early in the morning. The echoes of healing are apparent in many posts and recipes I’ve published in the last three years. Seeing a holistic nutritionist (Cheryl Harris of Harris Whole Health and Gluten Free Goodness) probably saved my life. She encouraged me to take small steps, read Johnston’s (2000) Eating in the Light of the Moon: How Women Can Transform Their Relationship with Food Through Myths, Metaphors, and Storytelling, and I slowly changed how I perceived eating and food. My self worth and image built itself up and, in increments, stopped focusing on calories and focused more on what my body needed and when.

Being diagnosed with hypothyroidism in 2011 also changed by body image and eating habits, and it really helped in knowing my struggles with weight weren’t entirely my fault. Yes, I could have eaten healthier and exercised more, but growing up with an underactive thyroid literally makes you the underdog. Not only does your metabolism suffer, everything does. How could I be healthy when I was sick all the time? How could I get better if it was my body that wasn’t working?

Since receiving treatment, I’ve noticed my body doesn’t get sick as often or as easily. And the slow change of feeling like I have to exercise to wanting to exercise as well as removing ‘good’ and ‘bad’  as labels for food (also called orthorexia, or a fixation of only eating what the person believes is healthy or ‘good’ food) really helped transform my mindset toward loving my body. I still have old paradigms rear their ugly heads when I’m stressed or feeling vulnerable, but I know where I am right now is a pretty awesome place to be.

The last thing that really changed everything for me was doing the Insanity Challenge. I went from 125 lbs to 142 lbs, eating up to 2500 calories to maintain efficiency. I started learning how to take cues from my body, and was absolutely fascinated how I became more solid, but didn’t get bigger. In horror, I realized just how much I denied my poor body nutrients in the name of fairytale beauty. I knew in theory that not eating enough will actually keep you from losing weight because your body is trying to keep you alive. But after completing the Insanity Workout, it finally resonated.

Even today, while I have moments (and they are fleeting, I’m happy to say) where I think I’m not pretty enough, smart enough, thin enough, whatever enough, I have a fantastic support system and I am dulling the words of that harsh Inner Critic we are all capable of having. I cook and eat because food nourishes my body and my soul. I exercise to see how my strength has improved physically and mentally. I have learned to treat myself with compassion and empathy, and am learning what situations open the door for negative thoughts (usually sleep deprivation, sickness, or getting stuck inside my own head for too long).

The one thing I really hope the world comes to realize is that people who suffer disordered eating do not do it for attention, and telling them about how there are people without food in other parts of the world do not help. And while it helps to receive reassurance (because I admit to needing reassurance from time to time), the only thing that will change their outlook on themselves and the need of control is their desire to change it. It may mean getting professional help (as I had), changing the environment that encourages this disorder, and taking as well as celebrating the little steps. And while I believe it is most certainly acceptable to change yourself to feel better health-wise, I have learned that seeking perfection is impossible, mostly because there is no such thing as the perfect person. It's okay to be any weight that makes you feel comfortable, so as long as you don't risk your health or happiness to get there. It's also okay to have a 'type', but just remember that the other types out there are equally awesome.

It also means looking at body shaming as it is: a form of violence and bullying. We need to stop focusing on beauty as a surface phenomenon and looking to create the word to mean something that is all-inclusive. Let's stop comparing ourselves to one another and looking for acceptance based on what the scale says or what the media tells us. We need to stop diminishing someone's worth based on their appearance, and STOP STOP STOP saying someone isn't beautiful in order to make someone else feel that they are. It is NOT okay. And the first step to achieving this is inward.

I am so grateful to my family, friends, and partner for changing my life. And thank you all who were so brave as to sharing their stories, with me personally, and on Post Secret. And for those who are still suffering, are recovering, and everywhere in between, I want to say this to you:

• You are beautiful in the present. At this very moment, you are the perfect you and you are on the path you need to take.
• You are the ideal you.
• You matter.
• You are loved, honored, and appreciated for being yourself.
• No one’s opinions of what you should look like or be like is important. The only thing that matters is how you feel.
• It does get better. I promise you.

I made this recipe as a way to honor those struggles, and to reach out to others. Following this recipe are some stories about disordered eating and body image. I cannot express to you how much I appreciated the bravery of these individuals to share their story. It will be updated throughout the week, but feel free to leave a comment also.

Mashed Potato Biscuit Hearts

420 g mashed potatoes*
75 g Garbanzo bean flour
100 g ground almonds (i.e., blanched almond flour)
65 g Brown rice flour
60 g Flaxseed meal
120 ml Whole milk
1 Large egg
1 tsp. Sea salt
3/4 tsp. Baking soda
3/4 tsp. Cream of Tartar

Preheat the oven to 375°F/190°C.
Mix together the wet ingredients (potatoes, milk, and egg) in a large bowl and add the dry (the dough will be a bit tacky).
Let the dough sit for five minutes.
On a floured surface, take a handful of dough** and flatten it to about an inch thick.
Using a heart-shaped cookie cutter (or any for that matter), press through the dough and place the cutouts onto a greased baking sheet (or parchment paper).
Continue to do so until all the dough has been formed, and bake for 30 minutes or until golden brown.
Remove from the oven and let them cool for about 10 minutes before eating.
Can be served hot or cold.

Makes 11 or more biscuits, depending on cutout size.

* I used the potato ricer to make the mashed potatoes and didn't add anything to them.

** I found it easier to take a handful of dough at a time than to just roll it out and cut.

Other's Stories (Coming Soon)

Story 1: The Legacy
The Influence of family: My first negative body image messages came from my own mother when I entered puberty. She made me self conscious about my weight gain. (Replaying the messages from her own mother about her struggles with weight gain. To lose weight that she gained during her own puberty, she ate only mayonnaise sandwiches for an entire summer. She did some severe dieting after each of her children to lose the baby weight, which affected her mood and energy levels.) I also remember my father making comments that 125 lbs was an ideal weight (for my mom) so that was a weight goal I strived to attain. No matter that I was actually 3 inches taller and actually looked ghastly at 125 lbs. As a result, I went through puberty and early adolescence (in the 1970’s)  “knowing” that I was “fat” and unattractive. As a result, I became anorexic in my mid-teens, something that was acerbated by a bout of mononucleosis.

The influence of media and product advertisements: Dress size, body weight, body image, attractiveness and perceived sexual desirability have always been interconnected. No matter that I actually felt my best when I weighed a certain amount. In order to fit into certain styles of clothing, I had to be a certain size. In order to accentuate my eyes and my cheekbones I needed to have a certain contour to my face (achieved only by dieting). The mirror: It lies. What I see is not what others see. As a result I have to use a tape measure; it doesn’t lie.

My regrets: I hate how I look. I have always hated how I look. Once in a while, when some time has passed and I see a picture of myself, I think, “Wow! I look really great in that picture.” But, if I think back to when the picture was taken and how I felt about my looks, I would say that I felt ugly or at least not attractive.

Legacy: I have watched helplessly as my own daughter has struggled with this amorphous monster, wondering what I could have done that I didn’t do; how I could have better protected her from the jaws of this gaping beast. I tried to offer unconditional love and support as she has struggled. I tried to keep my own self criticism and self esteem issues to myself. I tried to make every effort to not taint her with the family legacy of toxic messaging. I have tried to be her best cheer leader. But, as evidenced by her very public struggles with disordered eating, love isn’t enough. This dis-ease is insidious. It’s in our wiring, it’s in our cells…

Everything Ventured, Everything Gained

It has been a slow but sure process of getting my act together, and to be honest I don’t know where to start. Eight weeks of being on autopilot, of finding the balance of taking care of myself and still being responsive and kind to others’ needs, of wondering if graduate school was the right choice, of being numb and filling the void with not so smart choices, and it finally came crashing down around me. 

'Tis the season to be changing...

I struggled to find out what happened, what went wrong with my plan of discovering what being “successful” and “grown up” meant, and there were a lot of factors to consider. I own my mistakes, and accept that I’ve made quite a few as of late, especially where others have been on the receiving end of them. But everything happens for a reason, and my priorities are thankfully back on track.

October was a “shift or be shifted month”, and November follows with self-reflection and being the best Morri I can be. Perhaps it was getting an “A” on my first graduate school paper that has me truly believing that everything is okay, or that I finally have the information to heal myself from the inside out. So to really work on this aspect, I've decided to celebrate "Good Nutrition Month." For the entire month of November I will be going fairly "primal" (as shown on Mark's Daily Apple) in my eating habits, and have officially removed coffee from my diet completely.

My search for fulfillment of the higher self was like searching for a coffee substitute: everywhere I looked there was something offered but nothing that truly fit to my needs. There are herbal coffee replacements out there, the majority of which contain roasted grains of the gluten variety. I was excited to see that Elana of Elana’s Pantry had this recipe for a gluten free, DIY coffee alternative, and I couldn’t wait to come up with my own ratio for a mug of "Joe".

Over a week of drinking my own brew and I haven’t drunken any coffee. Sure, the desire for tea and hot cocoa comes and goes, but this has been my go-to drink as a way to warm my core while the temperature drops a little more each day. I prefer to drink it black, as it has this fantastic peppery taste to it my palate adores, but I also recommend it in the form of a latte with almond milk and honey/stevia. I’ve also prepared it in two ways, depending on how “chewy” (i.e., concentrated) I want a cup to be. Regardless, it still fulfills my coffee needs, and is a wonderful drink to have in the mornings while eating breakfast and in the afternoons with a small snack before dinner.

Note: this recipe is a ratio*, so no matter how much you make, it will still turn out delicious. (And stay tuned for “coffee” recipes and variations in the coming weeks!)

Morri’s Herbal Coffee Alternative

4 parts Roasted chicory root
2 parts Roasted dandelion root
1 part Raw cacao powder

For a more concentrated brew:
Combine a mug’s worth of water with a heaping teaspoon of my HCA in a small saucepan on high heat.
Get it to a rolling boil and then simmer for five minutes.
Pour the liquid through a small strainer into your mug of choice.
Add your preferences of creamer and sweetener (or leave it black) and enjoy hot.

For a lighter brew:
Prepare water in a kettle like you would for tea and place a heaping teaspoon of my HCA in a liquid measuring cup (I used my two-cup measuring cup).
Once the water is steaming and the kettle is whistling, remove from heat and pour the water in with the HFA and allow it to steep for five minutes.
Pour the liquid through a small strainer into your mug of choice.
Add your preferences of creamer and sweetener (or leave it black) and enjoy hot.

Both directions make 1 serving.

*For example, my jar of HCA contains about 100 g chicory root, 50 g dandelion root, and 25 g cacao.

Healing with Smoothies

Between the smiles and the sighs, I’ll have to say that turning my life upside down has been a worthwhile experience. The things that ended brought about opportunities, so I know this crisis will blow over soon. I’ve started regaining my drive towards what I really want to do for the world, feeling so sure and secure with my efforts that I rarely have time for much else. Funny how that happens once you are honest with the universe, give up television, and nourishing myself for a change.

So don’t worry about the turbulence that comes with an abrupt change, my friends, because sooner or later the storm quiets down.

In the midst of all this change, I’ve been making recipe after recipe after recipe, sometimes losing the paper I wrote it down on (I really ought to get a notebook for this sort of thing), but truly focusing on balance. While camping, I attended a class called “The Five Elements of Nutrition”, and immediately purchased the recommended books when I had access to my laptop. Since I’ve started reading these books, I’ve been thinking about foods in the aspect of “cold” and “warm”, “damp” or “dry”, “sour” and “sweet” and “pungent” and “spicy”, etc. As I work on using food as a form of healing, I’ll definitely post my efforts as I read through it.

After coming back from our trip, I was really big on smoothies for the days following. Green smoothies, sweet and savory smoothies, fruit and vegetable smoothies… you name it, I tried it. It helped me deal with the heartbreak, knowing that I was cleansing from the inside out, and I am thinking of making smoothies a usual thing in my daily meal plans.

Green Goodness Pineapple Smoothie

280 g Frozen pineapple chunks (Mango works beautifully as well)
100 g Frozen spinach
1 English cucumber, seeded and cut into chunks
1 Green bell pepper, seeded and cut into chunks
Fresh ginger, to taste (at least the size of your thumbnail)
500 ml Coconut water

Place all of the ingredients into the blender and mix until thoroughly combined.

Makes 2 servings.

Honesty

Honesty. Let us reflect upon the word together and discuss its meaning. The word is often overlooked or taken for granted as a virtue, because the truth can be a hard thing to face. But as they say, the truth will set you free, and I hope my being honest does the same.

Writing about hypothyroidism has been a fun learning experience, including the feedback I’ve received from people telling me their stories. I’ve written about my frustrations and my experimenting with food lifestyles and thyroid medicine doses. I did a little research on what foods may affect the thyroid in a negative way, and started looking into what forms of exercise can be beneficial to those with thyroid disease. But there was a symptom of hypothyroidism I kept close to my heart, something that I felt was slowly ruining my life and all I held dear.

Three little words, my dear readers: sleep maintenance insomnia (SMI).

A good cat nap is apparently hard to come by.

This post was originally going to portray a "Why me?!" diary entry, filled with ranting, less than positive language, and feeling sorry for myself. But after two days of fully slept nights, with the exception of getting up to use the bathroom and drink a glass of water by my bed, I hold my head high and wish to tell you this story honestly and completely.

There’s that word again. Honest.

 Now, I have told people of my less than awesome sleeping habits, about how not days, not weeks, but months passed by with my SMI waking me up between 2:30 and 4:00 most mornings on less than five hours of REM sleep.  I woke up starving, so I would fill my clawing hunger with an early breakfast and attempt to go back to sleep. But the damage was already done. Over six months of this terrible secret of mine kept me from being social after hours and rekindling my orthorexic tendencies and anorexic habits. I was so terrified that I was gaining weight I upped my workout habits to such a degree that it made matters worse.

Thus the vicious cycle repeated itself, day after day and night after night: lack of sleep leads to eating more leads to working out. I looked myself in the mirror and saw distortion. I found myself bringing out my worst inner critic, the one that screamed “Not Good Enough” and “How are you not losing weight? You must be doing it wrong.” I tried, dear readers, I really did. I did eat. I did exercise. And I did try certain remedies for a complete REM cycle: yoga, hot baths, a light snack right before bed, no caffeine after three in the afternoon…  

Herbal tea? Been there... done that.

But every morning I looked out to see streetlights glaring against the pitch black night, and felt my stomach growl like a predator that demands an easy meal.

I became so obsessed with controlling things like when and what I ate, how many times I exercised per week and for how long, because I felt that my life was spiraling out of control. No matter how busy I was or how many posts I published on Meals with Morri, my fatigue pushed me to work harder, to see more people, and to exercise more often.

And I could see the looks of disappointment in my friends’ faces when I couldn’t stay out long or not go out at all. It broke my heart that my lack of sleep only gave me certain hours of the day open to see people, and that was filled with exercise, work, and blogging. I could feel the concern and the confusion when I didn’t accept how they saw me: busy, in shape, and helping others. Finally, on Tuesday, it all came crashing down.

I was on my parents’ bed, my body heaving with uncontrollable sobbing. I was so tired it hurt, my mind restless and always thinking despite its exhaustion. I was frustrated that my fitness regimen wasn’t doing what I thought it would be by the end of May (i.e., firm tummy, toned arms, happy Morri…), and I was beyond angry how I looked at myself.

I just wanted eight hours of continuous sleep each night. Is that so much to ask?

Mama Dazz, who also has hypothyroidism (but in the form of Hashimoto’s), consoled me the best she could. From what came of the conversation, all my problems were the cause of my insomnia. It is improbable, highly unlikely, and extremely difficult to lead a healthy lifestyle while suffering from insomnia. As one of the symptoms of hypothyroidism, it is a leading cause to weight gain (or in my case, my body was always “on”, so it couldn’t keep up with my lifestyle and held onto my "plush" for dear life). I had restricted myself and controlled everything in my life to such an extent that, when I couldn’t complete a basic state of being, I felt so broken.

So there I was, curled up in a ball, crying my eyes out that shook my entire body, feeling like I was crazy, stupid, and the most useless sentient being in the world. If my SMI had gone on for another month, it is highly likely I would have been hospitalized until I was considered “normal” again. Between a rock and a hard place, I chose another option, one I wasn’t thrilled about but I did it anyway out of desperation.

I took medicine to sleep.

In the name of my holistic beliefs and philosophies, taking medication was something I’d refused for months. At the time, I felt like I would be a complete hypocrite to take over-the-counter pharmaceuticals. I’m personally not a fan of antidepressants, and as such I do not take them. I don’t take diets pills for weight loss, and instead eat healthily to the best of my ability and exercise when I can. I felt like taking medicine to sleep was, well, cheating. And if I was a hypocritical cheater, what made me think I could run Meals with Morri with a clear conscience?  

Bangin' bread on little sleep.

At the moment, sleeping well for two nights in a row is quite an achievement, and my body is following suit. It’s starting to understand how exhausted it truly is, and what it means to slow down and turn “off”. I’m not pushing myself to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to prove how happy I am. I’m calmer and quieter, with a “sparkle” in my voice that I was told has been missing for quite some time.

There are quite a few theories why SMI has reared its grumpy head: too low a dose of thyroid medicine, boredom, restlessness, etc. And because the medicine to help me sleep seems to be working, I’m going to continue taking it for a few weeks and see how it goes. Mama Dazz has also put curtains in my bedroom to keep it dark and cool, which has also helped enormously. I’ve started seeing progress in my eating and not being ravenous all the time. Oh, and my climbing seemed to improve overnight, so I’m rather happy with that in particular .

My sincerest hope is that I’ll continue sleeping, and that we can continue to share our stories honestly with each other. I end this post with an interesting read I found on sleep:

“People say, 'I'm going to sleep now,' as if it were nothing. But it's really a bizarre activity. 'For the next several hours, while the sun is gone, I'm going to become unconscious, temporarily losing command over everything I know and understand. When the sun returns, I will resume my life.'

If you didn't know what sleep was, and you had only seen it in a science fiction movie, you would think it was weird and tell all your friends about the movie you'd seen.

They had these people, you know? And they would walk around all day and be OK? And then, once a day, usually after dark, they would lie down on these special platforms and become unconscious. They would stop functioning almost completely, except deep in their minds they would have adventures and experiences that were completely impossible in real life. As they lay there, completely vulnerable to their enemies, their only movements were to occasionally shift from one position to another; or, if one of the 'mind adventures' got too real, they would sit up and scream and be glad they weren't unconscious anymore. Then they would drink a lot of coffee.'

So, next time you see someone sleeping, make believe you're in a science fiction movie. And whisper, 'The creature is regenerating itself.”

(George Carlin, Brain Droppings)

Pleasant dreams, my dear readers. Here’s to finally sleeping in on a Saturday morning.

Goodbye April Woes

The hardest thing after being sick is getting back into your old routine. Running two miles proved to be a lot more winding than I remember, and I could only rock climb for twenty minutes before getting frustrated and tired. I still haven’t done much yoga (not at all, actually), and I was at least able to complete seventy-five percent of my core workout, but I feel like my two week hiatus has completely thrown all my hard work out the window. Now, a week later, and I’m almost back to where I was, running three miles and climbing for an hour.

April was going to be the month of recipes and thyroid information galore. It was going to be the month I would be running at least nine miles per week. It was going to be the month I could rock climb V1s with ease. I was going to be Morri, Super Duper Gluten Free Blogger Extraordinaire, making The Perfect Recipe for this month’s Gluten Free Ratio Rally.

By the way, we made bagels.

On the other hand, I did set out what I wanted to accomplish for the week: I did exercise; I did go out into the world specifically to be social; I did make recipes; and I have been studying extensively on the culinary arts and the business behind it. My goal was to ease my way back to where I was before getting sick, and I think I did a fairly good job at it, despite not posting here every day. There’s even a new page on Meals with Morri, one I am particularly excited to make a place of information and growth.

In between my moments of angst, frustration, and little pity parties, this is probably the best week of sleep I’ve had in… months? Years? I can’t even remember the last time I’ve slept past 5:30 in the morning. But this week, I’ve been waking up after 6:30, a personal triumph in my sleep maintenance insomnia.

For now, I want to talk about comfort, and fulfillment, and presentation.

There are some foods out there that don’t look particularly glamorous or are especially difficult to photograph. I personally have the darnedest time taking pictures of beverages and condiments. Maybe it has to do with the settings on my camera that I haven’t fully mastered quite yet, or maybe it has to do with the containers I put them in, but some foods need some help in looking delicious.

Beverages, dressings, and condiments aside, pilaf is the perfect example of this.

Pilaf is a class of rice (though not always) dishes found all over the world. It is found in the Middle East, South and Central Asia, and terms for [rice] pilaf are found in Mandarin, Danish, and Greek. It’s the sort of One Dish Wonder food that can have all the fixings: grain (typically rice), meat (at least, a protein), fat, fruits, and veggies. It is closely related to the Spanish paella and Creole Jambalaya, two dishes that are definitely on my “To Make” list. Oh, and biryani, how could I forget?

Pilaf is the ultimate comfort food: nutritionally balanced, texture and flavor diverse, and able to feed a ton of people in one batch. It’s not the prettiest thing in the world, I know, but it’s one of the most adaptable and economical dish there is. Pilaf is the sort of dish you could have every day and every day it would be a little different, one that could feed a family that needs that kind of security.

This recipe is all about its personality, and not necessarily how it looks on a plate. So go on, make some pilaf/plov/pilav/pilafi. I guarantee a feeling of contentment, fullness, and leftovers for the next few days. 

Turkey Quinoa Pilaf

252 g Dry white quinoa
750 ml Water
20 g Dried parsley
20 g Fresh basil, finely chopped
1.25 lb. Ground turkey
120 ml Pino Grigio (or water, if you prefer)
30 ml Unrefined apple cider vinegar
1 White onion, finely diced
1 Carrot, finely diced
1 Celery rib, finely diced
4 Garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 Ginger chunk (about the size of a garlic clove), finely chopped
113 g Canned fire roasted green chiles
1 tsp. Sea salt   

Prepare the quinoa with the 750 ml water and cook as you normally would prepare it, either in a rice cooker, pressure cooker, or a large pot.
Fold in the parsley and basil with the cooked quinoa and then set aside.
In a large skillet pan on medium heat, generously grease the bottom with your cooking oil of choice (I used coconut oil), and cook the ground turkey until it is browned.
Add the remaining ingredients to the skillet until softened and remove from the heat.
Fold in the turkey mixture in with the quinoa thoroughly.
Serve warm as part of a salad with lettuce, tomato, feta cheese, avocado, hot pepper, cracked pepper, and your choice of an acidic vinaigrette.

Serves 6 – 8.