Today's Menu: Stress-free Soup

With all the progress I have made since the start of the year, I thought my health would be at its peak when spring came along. The birds started singing and the weather began to warm (as far as strange Virginia weather is concerned), and I thought it meant that I had it all together.

But health isn’t like that. It isn’t some commodity you need to only focus on once and you’re good for life. It’s a lifetime responsibility, and one you should never take lightly. So when school resumed from Spring Break, I found it harder and harder to do my daily responsibilities. I slept whenever I could, and all my plans for my mornings were left undone as I nestled further underneath my warm quilts and blankets.

It was heartbreaking to see that weeks had passed without a single recipe written down and plans with friends cancelled because I was so tired. Frustration seeped in to my otherwise bubbly demeanor when I saw my winter troubles reappear. I admonished myself for not having the capacity to handle nine credit hours of school, plus work, plus climbing, plus a social life of some description. The stress was getting to be too much.

This likely started with an old acquaintance of mine dying in February, and I spent the majority of March padding along in morose reflection. Death and dying, school and career possibilities, old relationships and new loves… this was my mindset. Perhaps that was why I chose to either push myself beyond exhaustion with sixteen- (sometimes eighteen) hour days with less than six hours of sleep or nap when I had the free time. I didn’t want to think about the building emotions whose intensity I couldn’t discern. I didn’t want to think about anything other than my obligations to other people; and as I result I forgot who I was and why I do what I do. Among other things, Meals with Morri was terribly neglected.

I didn’t think J’s death would affect me as much as it did. At most we were friendly acquaintances a couple summers ago who shared amazing conversations about identity, gender, and love. When I learned he had died, I felt a part of my Universe shift. Everyone who has ever passed through your life matters, no matter the time or the impact. Everyone matters, and I frantically tried to make everything equally important. A month later, I officially crashed and was so burnt out from the self-inflicted stress I carried. I spent all of yesterday in bed, leaving work after an hour, with school and social plans discarded. I slept and I dreamed and I recharged, three things I hope to never take advantage of ever again.

This soup is the kind of food everyone should have when life seems too real and you need a mental health day. It isn't the prettiest of soups, true, but it is perfect to sip on in bed while you catch up on your reading or on the couch as you watch uplifting comedies. Better yet, have it with the people you love at the dinner table, reflecting upon one of  life’s greatest lessons: 

“Be mindful. Be grateful. Be alive.” (Mama Dazz)

Creamy Celery Soup

24 Celery stalks, coarsely chopped
450 g Sliced leeks
4 (536 g) Red potatoes, peeled and cubed
4 Garlic cloves
2 tsp. Sea salt
1 tsp. Cracked pepper
Pinch of rosemary powder
Dash of nutmeg

In a large pot or pressure cooker, combine all of the ingredients and pour water just an inch below the line of vegetables (more or less, depending on your preference of soup thickness).
Cover the pot and place on medium heat to cook for 45 minutes to an hour or until all of the vegetables have softened.
Turn off the heat and use an emulsion blender to puree the ingredients smooth. (Should it be too thick for your taste, add a little water at a time and place on medium heat until at the desired consistency.)
Pour into bowls/mugs and serve hot.

Makes 6 – 8 servings.

November Reflections: Grain-Free and almost Stress-Free

I had so many blog posts I wanted to do, explicitly focused on my birthday, my talk with Cheryl, my grain-free week, and a few recipes as well. But life had different plans for me, and for the first time I am totally okay with it.

Ostkaka: my birthday "cake"

My birthday week was quiet. So quiet, in fact, that it went by in a blur of rain, school, and work. Both my Anthropology teachers canceled their classes on my birthday (divine intervention, perhaps) to attend conferences in Montreal and New Orleans, so I spent my day doing absolutely nothing. And as I mentioned before, I’ve been trying out the grain-free, one fruit a day (not including the lemon water I use for drinking down FiveLac), and no additional sweeteners, I didn’t have a cake specially made for the occasion. I did, however, have a piece of ostkaka I made on the 14th to celebrate Sweden’s “Day of Ostkaka,” a food holiday established in 2004. Oddly enough, it was the same “cake” I had in Sweden for my birthday last year.

I miss those times. I really, really do. My last semester of school had left me a stressed, anti-social mess, with a sore throat and a dry cough that finally went away after two (plus) weeks. I would have loved to go out on my birthday with the people I’ve been neglecting, but I was just so tired that all I wanted to do is sleep. I thought it was the whole grain-free thing, but really I was underestimating just how compromised my immune system was with the getting glutened-flu double whammy hullabaloo.

For a while I was still getting headaches, though the FiveLac keeps me from being hungry an hour after eating a full meal. I can wait until after six to eat dinner instead of having to eat right at five. My digestion is doing awesomely, and I think my hormone imbalance is leveling itself. I thought I had to increase my Armour Thyroid to 90-30-90 due to the emergence of previous symptoms (i.e., lower body temperature, cold hands and feet, yellowish palms and fingertips), but after acknowledging the headaches being stress related (and also for thinking too much) they’ve miraculously gone away.

Grain-Free "Granola" Bowl

As far as drastically changing my diet for the long term, Cheryl recommends I get tested for Candida until I officially go down the ACD or SCD route. For now I like being grain-free, white carb-free, and eating one fruit serving a day (most days). I’m noticing that I’m not as hungry, I’m fuller longer, and for the first time this Sunday I was actually hungry.

Interesting, isn’t it? Instead of eating when I was hungry I was eating because I was programmed to eat at a specific time. There is a difference to a hungry stomach and a stomach experiencing discomfort. For as long as I’ve been blogging, I ate to feed the headaches and I ate after eating to feed the “hunger” pains. After this weekend, filled with a family meditation seminar, the headaches went away and I slept. I mean, I actually slept in a way I thought was lost to me. Before the meditation I thought I had been too grounded to let go of all the stress. I am feeling more in my body than I have for two years. My hands are finally warm, and school (and graduation) isn’t so scary anymore.

With two weeks of school left after Thanksgiving weekend, I am definitely looking into doing Kundalini yoga again. Being grounded is at the heart of being healthy. And if I’m going to change the world and nourish the people in it, I have to live by example and nourish myself. Since I've returned to running and working with the munchkins at the community center, I need to be eating more than I have been if I don't want any more zombie nightmares. It's day four of warm hands, so I must be doing something right.

Cottage Pie

Do you ever have those moments where you ended up questioning something, even things in the past you didn’t have control over in the first place? Do you ever think you took the wrong path, whether it is for a career or a college major? My blogging activity waned for five excruciatingly long days, just as my motivation had for school. I kept cooking, and I kept going to school, but when it came time to study the weekly readings or blog my latest recipe, I couldn’t focus, my eyes glazed over, my mind went blank, and all I wanted to do was sleep and hide from the world.

Yesterday all I did was sleep, and I was still exhausted. My inability to sleep more than six hours without the compulsion to get up each night was starting to get to me (zombie-free, thank goodness). I look out from my bedroom window, gazing at the beauty of this clear autumn day, and I can’t help but feel so disconnected from the Cosmos. I don’t feel like I’m part of my own life.

So I’m looking back at my college career, and I think about Steve Jobs and Chris Botti. Both men are geniuses of their respective crafts, Jobs with computers and Botti with his trumpet. Neither one of them completed college (Jobs dropped out and then back “in” college, only taking the classes he found interesting and Botti dropped out to pursue the life of a musician), but look at the impact they’ve made in the world! I started thinking to myself, my minor classes in anthropology were the ones that kept my GPA under a 3.5, and suppose if I decided use those credits to take the classes I found interesting. Where would my GPA be? Where would I be as a person if I took a year off before going to school and traveled? A lot of recent opportunities have come up in the S/CAR program, opportunities that I can’t be part of because this is my last semester as an undergraduate. Maybe this is where it all started, when I found out that future S/CAR majors would have the ability to turn their senior year into their first year of the Masters program. That, and the fact that I still haven’t heard anything about my grades from Sweden transferring, that kept me from filling out my application and, in my mind, hindering my ability to being selected for the upcoming spring.

For the past few weeks I’ve been angry and frustrated and sullen. I was angry because I felt cheated, because I didn’t know what George Mason could have offered me if I hadn’t taken on the anthropology minor. I was frustrated because all the motivation and drive I had was quickly fading, and December was looming closer and closer. And I was sullen, because the only thing that was keeping me from the people that mattered most to me and inhibiting me from doing the things I loved and wanted to do was, well, me.

The nervous breakdown last night, in front of my family and friends, was my turning point. We all get together on a monthly basis to eat, love, meet new people, and discuss new ideas and philosophies. We started talking about the concepts of Wyrd and Ørlög, or fate and its path, as it is known in the Old Anglo-Saxon and Germanic cultures, and despite all my efforts to not break down, the tears fell and I excused myself for the rest of the discussion. It was at that moment I knew I didn’t feel connected to something I felt I should have been, and that my fate and destiny were secrets I wasn’t in on that they might as well not exist. What was I going to do with my life after graduation? What credentials could I possibly have that gave me a doorway to do something great for the world? What was the point of going through higher education when upon graduation I don’t feel prepared for life outside of academia? I am scared, so completely and utterly terrified, and more than once I’ve half-jokingly told people I’m going to become a Buddhist nun just to get away from everything. I began doubting my ability as being a conflict resolution practitioner. I began doubting my ability to cook. I began doubting the things I loved and the things I was good at. I wanted to put the covers over my head and wait until graduation, to not eat or move or talk.

I sat there, petting my uncle’s two dogs while I calmed down, and a couple of people came down to check on me. I told them why I was a blubbering mess with tears in my hair and a heavy heart, spilling out my fears and my reflections. Two of them, brothers and roommates, said they went through the exact same thing before and after they left the military. In fact, most if not all who talked with me said they’re still trying to figure it all out. “Your career doesn’t define you”, my uncle’s girlfriend said, “but that doesn’t mean you won’t end up where you’re supposed to.” I left the get-together in better spirits than I had arrived. I couldn’t have felt more loved or supported, and for that I am grateful for the amazing family I have.

If it hadn’t been for following Mama Dazz’s incentive and looking into conflict resolution as a discipline, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. I learned the art of communication, the power of empathy, and have met the unsung heroes of this wonderful world we have. If it hadn’t been for George Mason or the S/CAR program, I wouldn’t have met the people whom I cherish more than anything, including my colleagues in my classes or the love of my life one fateful Halloween party two years ago. And finally, if I hadn’t been part of this program, I wouldn’t have gone to the conference last year and hear Andy Shallal’s speech that inspired me more than he will ever know.

Thinking about this, now, as I write this post, further reiterates what I’ve always known. Everything is connected. There is no such thing as a coincidence. I’ve been disconnected from the Universe because I’d lost my belief in the process. And when you turn your back on that process and distrust it, you become lost and your way is uncertain. You begin to fear the process, and what it might bring. 

When I was first looking into making shepherd’s pie for the family, put into my single serving Pyrex® dishes, I searched for other people’s recipes before I sought to create my own. Maybe I wanted a point of departure so I wouldn’t mess up something I’ve never made before. Or maybe I wanted to walk down a path already traveled. But then, I noticed none of the recipes were what I was going for. I was afraid to pave my own path, even if it was a recipe for cottage pie (and before you say it, there is a difference between the two recipes).

So, despite my revelation (and a bangin’ original recipe), am I still terrified, frustrated, and sullen? A little. Graduation is still coming up. Midterms are still this week. Morri is still a stressed out, hormonal mess. But you can’t change what has already happened, and you shouldn’t worry about the things you can’t control. Sometimes what other people have done before you isn’t exactly what you want to do. And there may be a better way to do what you have in mind.

Everything happens for a reason. Trust in the process. Believe in your fate and that path your fate is taking. So here, have some cottage pie for your journey. I guarantee you’ll feel better.

Cottage Pie

1.5 lbs Lean beef stew meat, chopped into bite-sized chunks

2 carrots (about 5.5 oz), peeled, quartered, and finely chopped

1 White onion (medium), peeled and finely chopped

5.25 oz Petite peas, fresh or frozen

3 tbsp. Olive oil

2 Garlic cloves, coarsely chopped

20 oz Water

1 tsp. Unrefined apple cider vinegar

1 Bay leaf

1 tsp. Thyme

1/4 tsp. Rosemary powder

1/4 tsp. Sage powder

1 tsp. Sea salt

1/2 tsp. Cracked pepper

3 (heaping) tbsp. Potato starch

4 Russet potatoes (about 2.5 lbs), cut into small chunks

2 Garlic cloves, whole

1 oz Salted butter

3 oz Sour cream

1/4 tsp. Sea salt

1/4 tsp. Cracked pepper

In a pressure cooker or large pot, combine the beef, veggies, water, and spices (sans the potato starch, and cook for at least an hour.

Preheat the oven to 350ºF.

Cover the potato chunks and garlic cloves with cold water in a medium saucepan and bring to a boil on medium-high heat until tender.

Drain the water and add the butter, sour cream, salt, and pepper, and mash the potatoes until there is a smooth consistency.

When the pressure has subsided in the pressure cooker, create a slurry with the potato starch (about 2 oz water) and add in with the meat and veggies on medium-low heat.

Once the stew thickens, turn off the heat, remove the bay leaf, and pour it into an oven-safe casserole pan.

Top it with the potato mixture and evenly spread it out.

Bake for thirty minutes or more if you want the potato to brown.

Serves 4 – 6 people.

Surviving in the dorms, gluten free

I’m still here. Still caring. Still eating.

If it hadn’t been for my adventures in Sweden, I don’t think I would have taken on the internship so optimistically where my health is concerned. It’s been almost two weeks in the dorms now, and I’m eating healthily, happily, and simply. I may not be eating Filet Mignon or baking soufflés (Remember now; I don’t have a kitchen.), but I am quite content with what I am eating. I am also quite proud of myself.

Let’s go back in time in the fall of 2009. I had just received my Associates Degree that spring and transferred to George Mason University. My desire to become independent and an adult respected by society led me to being on the waiting list for housing. I wanted to experience university life, but I had to choose wisely. There are quite a few dorms on campus, varying from the average dorm to the suites, apartments, and townhouses. Those who’ve lived on campus (or whose parents who’ve seen the bill) know it can be downright expensive, especially when there’s a kitchen involved. Luckily, I ended up in off-campus housing both times I’ve applied for it. The townhouses are one of the cheaper places to live at, and it’s not too far away from campus. Up to four people can live in each house, and there is a lovely kitchen, living room, and other utilities accessible to you when all you want to do is wear your pajamas and bunny slippers.

I learned the art of gluten-free cooking in those townhouses, and only recently have I started blogging my insights and recipes. I’ve still much to learn, but being in the dorms has taught me much. Even though it hasn’t been a full two weeks since the start of this internship, I think I can help others who may be in similar situations for future semesters to come.

First thing’s first: applying to colleges. Many colleges are aboard the gluten-free train, going so far as to not only labeling gluten-free foods but also providing them specifically for those who have Celiac or gluten intolerance. Even so, parents and potential students alike have more to deal with other than filling out applications, filing loans, signing up for classes, buying books, and decorating dorms. I know it can be scary, because I’ve been there. Questions like…

1. What can I/my child eat on campus?
2. Will I/my child get sick because of the lack of labeling or allergen-free options?
3. I’m/My child is at the dorms. How will I/they manage it without a full kitchen?

… buzz in the back of prospective students and worrisome parents constantly. Some may even choose which colleges they go to because of their food intolerances. But it doesn’t have to be that way. As you can see, I’m doing just wonderfully, and George Mason isn’t exactly what you call a gluten-free/allergen-free friendly school (Regarding our food provider, Sodexo, labeling is only shown for vegetarian or vegan meals. It doesn’t label Halal, Kosher, or other food allergies besides dairy or nuts.) As a result, I often have to decline eating with friends unless I’m cooking or we are at a gluten-free friendly restaurant.

So how do I do it? It’s simple really. All you need are a few appliances, the food you love, and an upbeat attitude.

I couldn’t even begin to tell you how worried I was about this internship. I was afraid that I’d be eating nothing but rabbit food for five weeks. (Which, oddly enough, people think I already eat.) True, I’m eating more simply, but I can honestly tell you that it’s so much more than that.

I have three appliances in my dorm room: a mini fridge, a coffee maker, and a rice cooker named after my friend GM. The top of my dresser is my “dry” pantry, and the third drawer down is where I keep my utensils and other food prep items. Obviously this isn’t the bare minimum, but for someone who’s used to a full-blown kitchen… it’s almost like camping indoors.

Along with the three appliances, I have:

1 plate, 2 bowls (large and small), and 2 mugs (small and travel)
Fork, knife, and several spoons (yes… including the bunny spoon)
Small cutting board and Chef’s knife
Insulated lunch box and Bento box
Can opener
Reusable and BPA free water bottles
Glass jars (for leftovers, but generally used for overnight oats or rice)
Measuring cups and spoons
Dishtowel
Sandwich bags
Water filter
Natural dish liquid and sponge
Coffee filters

I’m quite lucky to have my favorite food stores nearby. Trader Joe’s is only a few miles away, and I purchase around fifty dollars of foodstuff a week.

Here’s what’s in the pantry:

Forbidden rice
Hulled millet
Bob’s Red Mill CGF rolled oats
Rice crackers
Spices
Olive oil
Dried fruits and nuts/seeds
Unrefined apple cider vinegar
Canned tuna (typically it’s wild salmon or beans)
Chia seeds
Apple carrot fruit sauce crushers
Indian Fare: Pav Bhaji
Creamed honey

As you may recall, I mentioned in a previous post that I wasn’t too keen on purchasing already prepared food or mixes. I’m still not, but the Indian Fare has quite a delicious selection of sauces and is a great addition to any meal. I was also skeptical of the fruit sauce crushers, but not anymore. (To prove it, I have a recipe that puts it in center stage.)

As for my mini fridge:

Peanut butter
Orange juice
Milk
Lassi
Greek yogurt
Cooked chicken pieces
Mascarpone
Smoked salmon
Roast beef and turkey bologna slices
Gouda cheese slices
Lemons and limes
Celery
Carrots
Sweet bell peppers
Basil
Snow peas
Korean cucumber
Cherry tomatoes
Hard-boiled eggs
Crushed garlic
Liquid vitamins

And the remaining food items:

Granny Smith and Pink Lady apples
Bananas
Avocado
Coffee
English Breakfast tea
Yerba Mate tea
Rooibos Chai tea

It is extremely important that you clean up after every meal. I learned this the hard way when I found ants crawling in and out of my rice cooker where I neatly placed my dirty dishes some few hours before. Try to get as much of the leftovers either in storage (plastic bags, jars, etc.) or thrown away before washing your dishes. Since I’m washing them in the bathroom sink that others use, I have to be considerate and make sure no food remains around the drain. Also, try making meals ahead of time. I like to do this for my breakfast, especially where coffee and overnight oatmeal is concerned.

Really, living in the dorm with food allergies or a specific eating lifestyle may seem daunting and overwhelming, but once you get into the groove of things it’s really quite remarkable. To think, you could apply to virtually any college. You could live practically anywhere and do just about anything. It will require more effort on your part, but it doesn’t have to be hard. Plan out your meals and list the foods you enjoy eating. Bring a croc pot or a blender for even more cooking shenanigans. Pack your meals to eat with your friends at the dining hall. Trust me. If you can think it, you can make it.

And it will still be delicious, nutritious, and gluten free.

Hard Lessons of a Gluten-Free Undergrad

Picture this, if you would. There’s a gluten-free student living in a college dorm for five weeks. There is no kitchen to use, not even a fridge. The college isn’t particularly gluten-free or allergy friendly, but the student wants to be as nutritionally balanced as possible.

Until the end of July, this will be my reality.

I’ll be honest; I thought eating would be the most challenging part of this internship, but it isn’t. I miss my kitchen, and my family (no more than fifteen minutes away) misses my cooking, but I’ve made do with what I have in my dorm. Since last Wednesday, a coffee maker, a rice cooker, a water purifier, and a mini fridge are the only appliances I’ve brought with me. The closet, particularly the top and third drawer of my dresser, is my pantry for eating ware and foods that do not need refrigeration. The meals I’ve been making are basic, easy to put together, and similar day-to-day, but I anticipated that. With all my running around, basically working eighteen-hour days until today, I’ve resulted to eating three meals a day. I think I’ve lost a little weight, with all my walking and carrying things all over campus, but it’s nothing too severe or worrisome.

In fact, this is the first in a long time that I’ve felt like “me”. I was always the girl who was optimistic and energetic, the girl with a personality you couldn’t contain, and because of that I could relate to a wide spectrum of people. Maybe it was the trip to Sweden that changed me, a paradigm shift that made me more introverted and rarely reaching out to people. Maybe there was an evolution in my emotional intelligence or, maybe, that I’m finally being treated for my hypothyroid condition like I should have been all those years ago. Yet this internship, the fellows who came here and the colleagues I work with, have turned back the clock to the Morri I thought had disappeared.

For years I had worked on leveling out my extremes. I was either high on life, a ball of energy, or crashing for a few days after to recover. If I wasn’t smiling, there was the assumption that life was not kosher in the Land of Morri. I was either grounded and calm or fluttering in the breeze. There was no middleman. It was a crazy roller coaster ride.

Looking back on that part of my life that, strangely enough, was up until the end of my freshman year in college, I realize that there’s a significant difference to then and now. Those were manic extremes, true, but I believe a part of the old Morri has shined through because I have something to do that I wholeheartedly believe in. I have wanted to be a part of this program since last summer, and the fellows are such wonderful kids. I’ve learned how to say things in multiple languages. I’ve had deep, philosophical discussions with them randomly throughout the day. I’ve listened to a sad story of one, where I spent the majority of Sunday afternoon sobbing like I haven’t done in such a long time.

In less than a week, I’ve learned a series of hard lessons. Despite my being the youngest mentor of the Institute and, at most, only being a few years older than these kids, it was extremely difficult to realize that I wasn’t a fellow. I wasn’t one of them. No matter how much they like me (and I them) and regard me as their friend and confidant, I am still their mentor and have to walk the very fine line between authority figure and “buddy.” Not only that, but as mentioned before I had to listen to an extremely sad story, who was asking – no, pleading – me and the other young mentor that they wished to stay, their parents telling them to not come home because it was so dangerous... I felt so helpless. With blurred eyes I glanced across the table at the other young mentor did I realize he was just as horrified and felt just as vulnerable as I had.

I wasn’t prepared to hear the very real injustices and cruelty that existed in this world, and I briefly questioned if I was in the right field. As an undergraduate CAR student, I haven’t gone abroad and experienced conflict first-hand like my colleagues with their Masters and PhD's have. I’ve only sat in classrooms where documentaries showed how vicious people could be (and Sweden doesn’t compare to places in the Middle East or Africa), but that is significantly different to listening to someone you’ve grown to care for, someone you’ve taken under your wing and developed a connection with. I have become so attached to many of them that I wish I could tell them it will be okay. I wish I could scare the boogeyman that haunts us all, and keep them here where it is safe. But that isn’t fair to them; all I can do is be there and honor them by listening to their stories.

My biggest fear is developing such a thick skin that I become numb to these types of stories. It is a blessing to experience empathy and compassion with all your heart and being, no matter how upset you become. I am sure to hear many more stories, and I may hold them and cry, but while they’re here I can guarantee safety and love. While I’m here, I’ll never stop caring.