I'm back... I guess?

Since July, you could say that "change" was a common theme for me. 

My webcomic: One Day Closer, a comic about LDRs

I got a full time job (July). I started another artsy project (July). I moved out (October). I started paying bills (October). I got and lost a new animal companion (October), followed by the adoption of two new ones (November). I learned about dealing with out of the blue expenses (October - January). I make change for laundry (weekly). I got engaged and celebrated my third anniversary with CK (December).

My job at the Washington Youth Garden: Helping FoodCorps members at an event

When the office got too technical, it's awesome to go out to the garden.

Life went forward, and yet Meals with Morri stagnated and seemed difficult to update. Recipes were thrown together and not meticulously tested. Food was made, eaten, and forgotten about.

Thistle, my first rabbit, died too soon. RIP October 2015.

My friends and family encouraged me. They asked when another post would be put up. It raised the question as to what this site was, and how it would go forward. To quote one of my dearest friends: "Wait, Meals with Morri is a food blog?"

Bran and Teague: my Super Pooper Fluffbutts

When I started this blog, it was to talk about managing and healing my various ailments. It was to share my progress and experiences in taking back my life into my hands. It was to process the concept of cooking at home and to self-reflect my day-to-day life.

On a positive note: I've become quite good at pizza.

So no, I suppose it really wasn't a food blog. It was a journal, a diary, a reflective practice with gluten/soy/cane sugar recipes. It revolved around food, but it wasn't an online cookbook.

Through Meals with Morri, I overcame my disordered eating habits, found a healthy middle man with exercise and being okay with chocolate and fried food, became confident in my body and my abilities, learned about the local food movement, and found my passions that led to the start of a fulfilling career.

But the things I expected from this blog never really came to fruition. I saw amazing men and women turn their lives around and make careers from their blog. I saw amazing artistic and aesthetic abilities in their photography, and beautiful contemplation in recipe design. 

It's so weird to call CK fiance now, but he is and it's awesome.

Me? I certainly enjoyed it, but I happened to be okay with recipes not "replacing" their gluteny counterparts in look and taste. I was quite content with simply enjoying new grains to incorporate to my expanding diet, and accepted that it may turn out a little differently. But how do you convey that to a reader? How do you say, "It isn't a replacement, it's a recipe all it's own?"

I've also realized that my initial goals for blogging didn't grow up with me. I don't have a best selling cookbook. I'm not known in the gluten free community. And oddly enough, it felt weird for me to push that. My blog was an individual experience to taking back my health, talking about the links with the environment, the body, and the spirit, learning about the psychological effects of being "other" simply because you happened to eat differently.

I learned how to make latkes from the ultimate source: CK's nana. Coincidentally, I used the term putz correctly when describing someone, and she promptly laughed, hugged me, and called me adorable.

I'm not the same person who started this personal movement in April 2011. My tolerance for bullshit and worrying about what people think has decreased significantly, and that cost me a lot of unfulfilling relationships (no issues there). In retrospect, writing and capturing my life on Meals with Morri met the personal goal that honestly should have been my top priority: I took back my health and gave the status quo the finger. I got angry and was okay about it.

So you will see that I've changed the Meals with Morri motto to being personal, to not being about the gluten free movement, and being more about self-reliant and sustainability mind. There are enough gluten free bloggers to empower others in taking care of themselves, and I'm proud to say I participated in that and helped people by answering questions or making recipes they could enjoy.

Five years is a good time to evolve, don't you think? 

 I want to thank everyone who participated in this blog up until this point, for the support, the criticism, the good, the bad, the screwups, and the successes. MWM is no longer the focus of my abilities, but an addition to my dialogue. It may be days, weeks, months, until I update. It may be never.

And for the first time, I'm pretty okay with that.

Don't Crowd the Mushrooms, Among Other Things

Around the same time last year, I experienced something along the lines of depression and anxiety. I tend to not admit it. I tend to not use the “d” word at all. After all, what did I have to be depressed about? I was living abroad, making a name for myself. Or, rather, I was learning what it meant to do the job in front of me because it needed doing. In February of last year, I developed Secondary Traumatic Stress (a similar beast to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but one typically seen in those helping people who experienced trauma firsthand) in an effort to help out on a project the NGO I interned at managed.

It has been a growing year for me since then.

In March of this year, I had gotten sick with probably one of the longest running bugs I’ve had in a while. And that turned into a terrible sinus infection, which in turn lasted another two weeks with an on again, off again fever. All motivation to do the things I enjoyed went out the window. No Insanity with CK. No Meals with Morri posts (or celebration of its fourth birthday, for that matter). No art. No job applications. Nothing.

My weakened immune system brought me back to how I felt last year, and the lack of interest from potential employers made it worse.

I write about this because I think it’s important. Meals with Morri is, first and foremost, a site about living healthfully with food sensitivities. But it’s also a place where I write about other health issues, like hypothyroidism, disordered eating, and stress.

In Malta, I kept my emotional pain relatively quiet (with the exception of CK, my parents, certain friends, and my therapist). I was living alone and on my own for the first time. I was finishing up grad school. I was working in a country on issues that were highly contentious and subject to scorn. Outside of work, I didn’t have a social life because I found it hard to assimilate and integrate with the culture). It was a hard lesson in learning to be alone and honest with myself.

Fast forward to today. I’m in Rome for twelve more days, living with an amazing human being that I refer to as my Partner with a capital ‘p’. I’ve volunteered my time and expertise at his school to get out of the apartment. I’ve improved as an artist, a cook, and as a writer. I’ve applied for jobs everywhere.

Depression isn’t logical. I am aware of my privilege. I have supportive friends, and I’ve grown as a person because of my experiences. But there would be days where I go through job listing sites like Idealist.org or Indeed.com and come up with nothing. Until recently, the idea of sending an email to another potential employer only to be ignored would bring me to tears, staring at the computer screen with blurred vision as the anxiety and worthlessness feeling grew. If you are presently searching for employment or had a hard time finding a job, you’ll know how detrimental it can be when your inbox is empty, and no one seems interested in what you can offer both their mission and their office.

But as I’ve said, I’ve been able to volunteer my time at CK’s school in more ways than I could have ever hoped for. It has validated my self-worth in that, despite the empty inbox, what I can and do contribute to the world (even to one person's world) matters. 

Upcoming post: the importance of school gardens

This funk has made it that much harder for me to do things that I clearly love doing, including Meals with Morri posts. The turning point for me was realizing that it was affecting my physical health too.

I know gaining 1.6 pounds isn’t a lot in retrospect, especially since the body fluctuates that amount on any given day. Regardless, I had gained 1.6 pounds, and it bugged me. It had nothing to do with the number and everything to what it represented. To me, it represented my depression affecting me in a very real way with very real consequences. I love physical activity. I love working out. I love being creative. And seeing that number gave me two ways of dealing with it: I could either turn it inward and accept it, beating myself even further to feeling lower than low; or I could say “f*ck that” and take charge. I chose the latter, and with it I had to be prepared to hold myself accountable.

I can’t control whether or not an employer wants to hire me. It’s a vulnerable position to apply for jobs, and that can’t be helped. But what I can do is make my first impression, that is, my cover letter and résumé, a labor of love. I can send them in and be able to say, “I wrote these to the best of my ability, with sincerity and integrity, and that’s something to be proud of.” Sure, it may also mean being downcast when they don’t get back to me, but that just means the right job will.

I can also control how I manage my time. I can sit around and mope, or I can actively seek out someone to talk to. I can work on my art or read another Terry Pratchett (Gods, I miss this man) novel. I can do Insanity instead of napping away the day in an effort to avoid my anger, disappointment, and sadness. I can stop comparing myself to others and instead focus on the positive as well as the things I can control.

I can control how many jobs I apply to. I can control how much time I put into my art and physical health. I can control how often I post on Meals with Morri.

Never let depression ruin your progress. Never let it win. Experience it. Work through it. But in the end, you can and will triumph.

This recipe isn’t particularly relevant to what I’ve written, only that I’ve been meaning to post it for weeks now and wanted to take those first crucial steps in overcoming my funk. It is more of a technique than a recipe. But if you learn anything from today, learn this invaluable tip: Don’t crowd the mushrooms in the pan.

Flawlessly Pan-Fried Mushrooms

400 g Mushrooms of your choice
Olive oil, for the pan
Sea salt

As I said, this is more of a technique than a recipe, but it’s an easy way to dazzle dinner guests. I’ve done this technique with three types of mushrooms: oyster, white button, and a long stemmed, small hooded mushroom that came in clumps and various sizes (I’ll update the name when/if I can find it). All where prepared and cooked similarly, and I have to say I’ve come to appreciate mushrooms by themselves because of this technique.

When you take the mushrooms out of the package, the first thing you do is cut the bottom roots and clean off the remaining debris from its initial picking with a dry paper towel. This is important. If you do end up wetting the mushrooms (they soak up moisture like a sponge, leading to a soggy product, which we do not want), let them sit on the counter to dry out for fifteen minutes or so.

Now, you can keep the stems on or remove them depending on your preference, but it’s up to you. You can also slice them in any shape or simply leave them whole. How you prepare them will determine the cooking time, so be aware of that. What I typically do is, if possible, cut them into quarters to get ultimate browning and body with every bite.

Once the mushrooms are cut, place a large sauté pan on the burner on high heat. When the pan itself is hot, pour a decent amount of olive oil at the bottom of the pan, enough to coat the bottom evenly but not thickly. Toss the mushrooms in, lower the heat slightly (not by much, around medium-high), but be sure that each piece has room. This is extremely important for perfectly cooked browned mushroom: do not crowd the pan with them. This may mean cooking them in batches. And since the mushrooms won’t be crowded, the liquid they do give off will evaporate, leaving soft, browned deliciousness in the pan. 

Stir with a wooden spoon or spatula and shake the pan once in a while. You will know you are doing the recipe right if the pan starts to look dry and the mushrooms sound like they’re squeaking. If it looks like the mushrooms are smoking, DO NOT ADD WATER. Instead, turn on the exhaust fan and maybe add a little more oil.

Once evenly browned, pour onto a serving plate and sprinkle sea salt on top. Repeat if you have more batches to cook (add oil every time). Serve hot as a side dish or simply eat as is. Yes, they’re that good.

This makes two servings… if you’re willing to share, that is.

Soup for Sick Days

As a kid, I was sick a lot. Migraines, struggling to keep anything down, fevers – this was just the typical thing I experienced year after year. It did get better after a time, but even now I know I am more susceptible to getting sick than most people. 

Luckily, whenever I get sick these days, it has more to do with crashing from exerting more energy than is healthy than migraines. I admit it: I tend to push myself hard, believing that I can do it all within a twenty-four-hour time limit. The result is much like a hangover without the fun, only it lasts for days.

CK has really been good about calling me on it when I show the signs (manic movements, voice at a breathless, higher pitch, unable to sit still, cycling over all the things I need to be doing, etc.), but I’ve also just improved with growing to honor and love my body and what it needs. I really excelled with this in Malta: being okay with being at home most weekends (eventually), and doing my own thing. I learned to actually rest and take care of myself.

But sometimes, you have deadlines. You have exams. You have work. In short, you have responsibilities that you have to deal with, and sometimes you end up paying for it.

The best way I’ve learned to combat that, when you are first able, is to focus on the responsibility of taking care of yourself. If possible, no energy is exerted on others, be it people or projects. Have a quiet day or, as Mama Dazz used to call them, a mental health day. If possible, spend the whole weekend recharging. For me, that’s essentially settling down to a good book or movie, cuddling with kitties (or CK, whichever is available), sleeping in and eating well.

Introducing the newest addition to our family, Clyde! He's got the right idea...

Even as a kid, soup was the go-to meal for when I was sick. That, and tea (lots of lemon and even more honey). But soup was comforting. I had specific mugs that I would use depending on the soup, and I tended to prefer blended soups, particularly tomato. Occasionally, I would have chicken noodle soup, or clam chowder if my stomach could manage, but it honestly depended on what was in the pantry.

"There better be a good reason why your camera is in my face, Morri..."

Since becoming flexitarian, I’ve looked at unmeatifying would be meaty favorites. I’ve made bean burgers that I loved, I've always been okay with a hearty bean chili, and I’m looking to make “clam” chowder with oyster mushrooms at some point. But what I really wanted to try out next was to make chicken noodle soup, just without the chicken.

This chickpea noodle soup recipe is fairly open-ended to what noodles you like and what spices you have on hand. Add whatever is soothing and comforting to you and what you need in it, including the amount of noodles you want per person. This is also a recipe for two, whether it’s for you for a couple of meals, a mental health day with your SO, or any veggie-inclined kid that just needs something warm to go with their cartoons.

Chickpea Noodle Soup

300 g Cooked chickpeas
2 Celery stalks, thinly sliced
2 Carrots, thinly sliced
1 Yellow onion, diced
2 – 4 Garlic cloves, coarsely chopped
1 Q. Vegetable stock (or water)
2 tbsp. Olive oil
1 Bay leaf
1 dash Tarragon
1 tbsp. Parsley
Sea salt, to taste
Cracked pepper, to taste
Hot sauce, optional*
150 g (or more) Dry GF spaghetti noodles**, cooked per instructions

Place a medium-sized cooking pot (enough to hold over a quart of liquid, the veggies, and chickpeas) on medium heat with the olive oil.
When fragrant, toss in the vegetables and let cook until the onions are translucent.
Pour remaining ingredients, excluding the noodles and the hot sauce, on medium-low heat for thirty minutes.
During that time, prepare a larger pot with water for the noodles and bring to a boil.
Cook them as instructed and pour the excess water through the colander, and place the desired amount of noodles at the bottoms of the bowls you are using.
Turn off the soup (the veggies should be soft but not falling apart), and pour the soup on top of the noodles.
Serve hot with hot sauce.***

Makes 2 servings.

* I mean, I guess it’s optional… Just kidding ;). I personally like a little kick with soups like this, but to each their own.

** You can easily use any type of noodle you’d like for this dish, but I decided to use spaghetti for the sake of nostalgia. 

*** This is also a good bread-on-the-side dipping soup.

How to Survive Getting Glutened (again)

Let’s say, for whatever reason, you got glutened. Yes, insert the dramatic and ominous music. This may be the first time or the twentieth time (I sincerely hope not) since you've removed gluten from your system, but you do know that it’s going to suck. It’s essentially the five stages of grief and loss: you’re in denial that it happened, I mean, you’re always so careful; you’re angry, maybe feeling betrayed by the food in question, the people who gave it to you, or you for eating it; you try to bargain with your body, and quite possibly telling yourself that it wasn’t very much and so it can’t be that bad; then you get depressed, as you start feeling the tremors in the tummy and digestive tract, knowing that a lot of the fun things you were getting ready to do did not include this; and finally, acceptance, because it’s happening, so you may as well do whatever you can to alleviate the discomfort.

Maybe you’re so zen that you just shrug and go right to the taking care of yourself part. In that case, I salute you, glutened zen master.

How you take care of yourself is vital to a speedy recovery, but know that while there is physical damage that takes place (inflammation, tightness, constipation, headaches), it is a lot worse when you are panicking.

Panicking amplifies the pain, and it also keeps you from having a steady head when you have to deal with the result of being glutened. After realizing you’ve been glutened, the next step I usually take is keeping myself calm or taking something for the anxiety. Deep steady breaths and self-compassion will lower your chances of hyperventilating and freaking out. (Also, if you know you experience terrible symptoms to the point you need to go to the doctor’s or the ER, seek medical help immediately.)

As you’re calming down, if you haven’t discerned the culprit, take a moment to trace back what possibly happened, and how much you actually ingested. Was it contaminated cooking oil or a prep space? Was it a thickener? Was it a food, such as breadcrumbs or a grain?

Once you’ve figured out the dastardly gluteny villain, let a few people know, especially those you’re living with. For one thing, you’ll have support and help in taking care of you if need be. For another, it really just helps in knowing that someone has your back. It can feel very betraying to be glutened. You can feel untrusting of anyone else but you with your health, which is completely understandable. But even if you decide to take charge of your healing for the next few days, the people who understand what you’re going through will remind you to keep calm, drink plenty of fluids, eat easily digestible food, and take as much rest as you need.

For me, the amount of the gluten ingested dictates the amount of discomfort and healing time that follows. It’s not the same for others. Sometimes, one crumb of wheat bread can be just as bad as eating an entire loaf for some people. It really depends from person to person. When I was glutened with that green apple drink over three years ago, I was bed ridden for days. When I was glutened this weekend, it wasn’t as bad because I didn’t directly ingest it. But kitchens sometimes forget the cooking oils. Sometimes they forget how crucial it is to keep gluten free orders at separate prepping stations. So while the discomfort wasn’t fun, and I did experience the typical symptoms of being glutened, it was less so and only for about a day.

During that time water and probiotics are your two best friends and allies. I typically use FiveLac, but kefir, yogurt, kombucha, and miso are also good choices. Remove as much allergenic or inflammatory foods as possible from your system, and focus on the foods that are high in minerals and vitamins. I typically lose my appetite from the experience, but herbal teas with honey and thin, spice-laden broths (like turmeric and garlic) are fantastic. Congee, smoothies, and blended soups are my preference.

Since your tummy is going to feel like a battlefield, try to wear comfortable, loose clothing. Nothing constricting or skin-hugging to promote further discomfort. If you can get away with wearing pajamas all day, I say go for it. But for those having to go to work and look sharp, soft fabric and loose clothing (such as sweaters, wraps, drawstring or elastic waistband bottoms, or dresses that don’t hug the waist) will help raise your morale in knowing just how wonderful you are despite feeling like crap.

Finally, listen to your body in what it’s capable of doing activity-wise. Try to keep yourself mobile, but not at top speed. If you feel you can, do some light stretching or yoga. Meditate. Take a nice, long hot soak with Epsom salt. Do some housework. Work on a hobby. If you do need to nap, by all means nap. But I do know that I tend to spiral in the crappy feeling, so doing things I love helps promote a faster recovery simply because I’m not wallowing. That may mean hanging out with friends but not rock climbing, or cleaning my room instead of working on the whole house.

There are a lot of “What to do when you’ve been glutened” articles out there, but these are the ones that work for me. What about you? What really helps you on the road to recovery?

The Birds and the Trees

A couple of years ago, I rescued a nestling from one of my cats. Miette (i.e., the Abyssinian Ninja Assassin) has this habit of coming to the kitchen window with something in her mouth, sometimes alive but usually not. I’ve seen it all: mice, voles, huge insects, and small birds barely contained in her small mouth. She likes chasing dogs, and her battle cry sounds like a banshee wail whenever another cat enters her territory. She has food sensitivities like I do, but whenever she brings something alive home I do what I can to rescue them from an otherwise dreary fate. It's not like she eats them, anyway...

I appreciate the birds that roost in our trees, especially as they sing their songs in the morning when spring comes around. In my opinion, it's a pleasant alternative to a beeping alarm clock scaring you awake.

This nestling seemed to be learning how to fly and hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it when Miette chased it into one of our yucca plants. I get a rush saving other things from the feline authoritarian regime that runs our house. After I put Miette inside, mad that I ruined her fun, the bird sat on my knee, trusting me enough to close its eyes after such an ordeal. And finally, as I had an amazing summer day ahead of me, I put it on a branch and wished it well.

I still look back on that memory fondly. Not the killer Abyssinian part, mind you, but the part about watching the bird’s inactivity and savoring the calmness of the moment shared.

Two Fridays ago I fell and bruised my tailbone (a nicer way of saying I fell on my butt) so badly my entire spine was affected. The initial bruise a few inches below the inflamed tailbone was black, and sitting upright and lying down hurt like no physical pain I’ve ever encountered. The funny thing about back injuries is how unaware until that moment how much you use your back, and how much energy it takes healing such an injury. The initial shock left me feeling fragile and vulnerable, and for one brief moment I could relate to the terror of a nestling that fell from its nest… or a tree that had been uprooted without care. Such trauma brings out pain from other places, and what is a tree without a sturdy trunk but sticks and leaves and not much else.

When I hurt my back, I was uprooted and had to reconsider so much about myself. Why do I have to be overactive and stressed out to feel like I’m actually doing something useful? Why do I not savor the breaks in the day and enjoy inaction as it was intended? For what it seemed like an eternity since the last time I relaxed, I slept and ate and dealt with my insecurities in quiet contemplation without distraction. And I don’t know if anyone else has experienced this, but as my stress levels went down, so too my tolerance of it.

Sentience is too fragile and vulnerable to be in a constant state of stress, and regardless whether or not my injury was a divine intervention or a “sh*t happens” occurrence, I received the message loud and clear. My body is not impervious to injury, and thriving on stress can only take you so far. But there is strength in being uprooted, because it gave me the mindset to evaluate all the traumas and dramas I had experienced up until this point. It sucks, royally and painfully so, but it is necessary and liberating to not hold onto them anymore. Luckily, despite being uprooted (or having fallen from the nest), I’m healing quite nicely and actually have the energy to make recipes happen.

With all this talk of birds and trees, I felt it was appropriate to share my version of peanut butter Easter nests. These were my only favorite Easter sweet besides the solid chocolate rabbit as a kid (I had an aversion to Peeps). I loved the confection’s combination of sweet and savory, creamy and crunchy, peanut butter and chocolate, and I wanted to recreate a healthier version of the treat to indulge when a craving struck. They turned out so well, I brought them to one of my graduate classes along with my Early Grey shortbread for my colleagues to enjoy. Not only did they enjoy them, they wanted the recipes for both!

It’s the little things that make bloggers happy.

No-Bake Bird Nest Cookies

68 g Puffed rice cereal
252 g Honey (or maple syrup)
192 g Creamy peanut butter (salted)
15 g Hulled hemp seeds
15 g Cacao nibs
15 g Toasted whole flaxseeds
25 g Unsweetened shredded coconut
15 g Sesame seeds
Thompson raisins, optional

Place the dry ingredients in a large bowl and set aside.
Combine the honey and peanut butter in a small saucepan, and cook over low heat until melted and the edges begin to bubble slightly, stirring until smooth.
Pour mixture over the dry ingredients and thoroughly coat using a silicone spatula or a wooden spoon.
Using a tablespoon (you can guesstimate with your hands too, but I felt this was a less stickier alternative), form mixture into tight balls using 1 heaping tablespoon of mixture per ball.
Make an indention in center of each ball to resemble a bird’s nest, and place them on parchment paper to cool and set completely.
Place two or three raisins or other egg-shaped candies into each nest.
For storage, stack them in an airtight container in layers with parchment paper in between to prevent sticking and staling.

Makes up to 30 cookies.

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.

Taking Charge of Anxiety and Stress

I admit that, when I last wrote, I was still knee deep in fight-or-flight mode. My sentences were run-ons and manically distributed. The words I used were emotionally driven and hectic. My stories were jumbled together and I had just started the process of coming down to Earth from a lifetime of stress and anxiety. A chill pill would have worked wonders during those two weeks of uncertainty, followed by a hot cup of herbal tea and warm milk.

(source)

Whenever I talk about taking medication - in this case I mean the antibiotic and the antispasmodic - I worry about perceiving myself as a hypocrite. After all, I often write how I am all for using natural means for healing. Be it with the food/supplements I eat, the thoughts I think, and the actions I do, I exhaust every option I can think of before even considering the idea of taking a pharmaceutical drug. Getting an artificially dyed pill from a doctor in a lab coat is a last resort thing for me. And I was definitely in the “last resort” category not too long ago.

So I took the medicine and I am gradually healing from the inside out. I am feeling better than I have in years, and I celebrate the changes: I can discern hunger, and I’m not as hungry as I once was; my activity level has skyrocketed while my fatigue has decreased; my mood is level and I’m not overexerting the good mood image (I am simply in a good mood); my skin is clearing up and my organs are starting to function properly; I'm sleeping (a big factor in all this); and I do not feel rushed or overwhelmed.

“The truth is somewhere in the middle.”  When I said this, I originally meant this as a way to balance the various practices and professionals I’ve gone to for healing purposes. This statement is also true for the concept of healing in general, and this post is dedicated to how I'm working on making this happen.

Along with the prescribed medicine I’ll be taking temporarily, I wanted to find ways of healing that I would feel empowered doing in the long run. I considered the gastroenterologist’s diagnosis of ASD, and how once upon a time another gastroenterologist tried curing my supposed “depression” with an antidepressant. I didn’t want to take a pill that altered my brain chemistry and played ping-pong with my emotions. I wanted to learn how to bring myself back to a peaceful baseline and essentially change how I handled stress in a positive and loving way.

(Note: What I’m about to share is in no way a formal treatment to ASD, IBS, or any other health concerns you may have. These statements are personal opinions and things I’ve tried that are working for me. Please consider this as you read on.)

I had received wonderful suggestions when I’d asked for advice last time. Emails, social media comments, and words face-to-face offered support and food essentials for tummy troubles and antibiotics. Oddly enough, no one really touched on the ASD aspect, and I think I know why.

We are part of a global paradigm where stress means productivity. At least in my interpretation of Western culture, we have to be “on” all the time to feel like we’re doing something meaningful with our lives. In many cases, and this resonates with me also, we have been in “fight or flight” mode for so long we don’t even remember what being at peace is. We become bored with inaction, and worried that we are stagnating progression. We lose our self-awareness with constant pressure from our inner dialogue, perceived expectations, over-stimulation, and over-scheduling.

Stress and anxiety are normalized internally. When we experience the adrenaline rush and adrenal fatigue over a significant period of time, our body gets used to the highs and lows of both, and our baseline adapts to being at the height of Mount Everest rather than sea level. A bit extreme, I know, but I want you to understand how crucial it is to nip chronic stress and anxiety in the bud and how small changes can leave a big impact on your health.

The first steps I started working with were self-awareness and acceptance. I asked myself questions like: How are you feeling? What are you feeling and what caused that feeling to occur? Is your mind racing and heart pounding when you’re trying to sleep/meditate/calm down? What external factors are affecting you internally, for good or ill? Acceptance is a hard thing indeed, for we are our toughest critics. Thoughts like “What do I have to be stressed about?” and “Come on, Dummy, this isn't hard!  Why can’t I do this?” can plague the chronically stressed and anxious. When we are in this state, it is extremely hard to see the big picture because we are so hyper-focused on the mini crises all the time.   

I learned that by being in a constant state of distress, I was hungry all the time. When I was stressed and anxious, I snacked on nut butters, rice crackers, and smoothies. Add that to my tummy troubles and my habit of not getting enough sleep, I was too fatigued and in too much pain to be active in my daily life. I used the medication prescribed to me as a tool to remove my body woes from the equation to turn my focus then on what was going on upstairs behind my pretty face.

The second step for me was analyzing the life I live with love and compassion. What are the things most important to me? What can I place on a shelf to work on later? What do I keep? What do I let go or change? These questions led me to the journey of finding an inner calm and adjusting the structures of my life to suit me.

There are certain ways to calm yourself, and you do not have to do it alone or by your own design to get positive results. To increase my own ability at achieving a steady baseline, I looked to meditation. I was advised to do fifteen minutes a day, but my mind tends to wander and think of all the things I need to/have to/should be doing. So I became even more frustrated when I was unable to return to mindfulness and stressed by those precious minutes wasted on trying.

The answer for me was guided meditation, and there are many sources out there varying in length, type, and technique.

“But I don’t have time to meditate and sit still”, you say. “I have all these obligations to do…”

Stop. right. there. When you are in this mindset, of course you won’t have time. And my answer to that can be shown in this image:

(source)

As I said, guided meditation is helpful for me because I can focus on a voice and the instructions I am being given. For 10 – 20 minutes (or more), all that matters is my breathing, resetting my brain, and reveling in the possibility in how it will affect my day for the better. I find doing it in it the morning (though not necessarily right when I wake up) and/or before bed good times for me, but choose times that work for your schedule.

(source)

This leads to another crucial aspect in lowering stress and anxiety for me: routine. Now, I’m not talking about being a “slave to routine” as the comic above implies. I’m talking about having something your body can work with, a way to regulate and manage yourself and what matters most to you. Since graduation (and quite possibly before that), I was flying from one thing to the next – blind and awkward in between – doing everything I could to stay upright. Instead of planning by the hour for everything I do (as I tried to and bombed at), I’ve laid out my weekdays in morning, afternoon, and evening time-slots. I have days where I am climbing or doing other forms of exercise and completing a certain chore/task for the house. I have definitive times when I’m working or at school. I have days dedicated to studying, and an evening or two dedicated to whatever it is I may treat myself to. From doing it this way, I found that I not only have more time than I thought; I also have focus and energy without becoming overwhelmed. Work and play are becoming wonderfully balanced.

The final reflection I’d like to share is to not sacrifice taking care of yourself in order to “get things done”. I admit there are still days in the week I perceive I have a lot to do and the consequence is getting less sleep/relaxation than I’d like. For example: On Tuesdays my class gets out at 10:00 p.m., and then I am up at 5:00 Wednesday morning to climb. I know that I’ll get less than seven hours of sleep in between, so it’s just a matter of adjusting certain variables to ensure I’m doing all I can to not return to that unhealthy cycle. Be honest with yourself and others when everything in your being is telling you to chill out. And when stress and panic arises, don’t beat yourself up about it; instead, take pride knowing you realized what’s going on and take as long as you need to bring yourself out of survival mode. 

The Truth is Somewhere in the Middle

Warning: may contain less than pleasant descriptions of bodily functions and words of ranting, needing advice, and strong-ish language.

Ever have those moments where you perceive that everything is happening at once and time is moving faster than you can handle and run-on sentences suddenly make sense and your body is exhausted and your mind keeps going and then… BAM! You hit a wall.

Yeah, I absolutely “adore” those moments too.

As mentioned in my last post (an astonishing two weeks ago), I’ve had tummy troubles. This term is an understatement, but I try to keep the content of this blog as family friendly as possible. I was so terrified of my symptoms and the pain that I scheduled two ASAP appointments with a gastroenterologist and an urologist. Add the fear of the unknown with emotional/hormonal upset in the form of body image obsession… My two weeks MIA from MWM have not been all rainbows and free hugs. But goodness, I wish it had been.

For a week it seemed like I was balancing a number of plates in the air with spectators looking on, ready for a good laugh. I wanted to do so much, be so much, in a short time frame. And instead, when everything was expected to crash down, porcelain shards littering the floor, some spectators were kind enough to join the act in assisting. Some plates were added and others removed, but little by little I could balance the aspects of my life. And while I was overwhelmed by it all, it isn’t as bad as it was.

If I could list all the plates I have been balancing based on their importance and priority and my focus of them, it would be thus: Health (includes all aspects), Grad school, Future, Miscellaneous obligations, Work, Family and Friends, Meals with Morri, and so on. The overall feeling of crappiness health-wise bled onto the other plates, and I was so exhausted and so stressed out and internally so toxic it started to physically manifest in the form of bloating and red bumps around my eyes, hands, and elbows.

I waited and waited and waited until I couldn’t take it anymore. The pain was terrible, the Google searches foretold impending doom, and the inner dialogue was scattered and anxious. Doctors’ offices were called and appointments were made. And if there is one moral in this story, people, it is the following:

“The truth is somewhere in the middle.”

The gastroenterologist I met with is an esteemed practitioner in his field of practice. Mama Dazz even visited him back when she was in her early twenties and recommended his expertise. With appointments like this I tend to be nervous. I lose all sorts of control and power when presented to doctors in general, so it was nice to have her come with me. I walk into his office and the usual questions are asked: Why are you seeing me today? How long have you experienced these symptoms? What have you done thus far in regards to treatment, management, etc.? What additional medications are you taking? What does your diet look like…?

The last two questions resulted in him essentially going into a tirade about how as far as he could see, a healthy young woman did not need hypothyroid medication and most certainly should not be on a gluten/soy/refined sugar free diet. From this conversation I was shaken to the core. This person did not know my history and had only one doctor-patient meeting to go on. He did not know how much better I felt eating the foods I ate, or how the Armour Thyroid did indeed affect my life positively. I felt so small leaving his office. I began to cry when the discussion turned to possibly having to incorporate gluten and soy based foods in my diet for tangible analysis in future blood work, to stop taking my hypothyroid medicine, and to think about a colonoscopy in the next couple of weeks (his recommendation, but not something I plan on doing right now).

Upon reflection, I realized I was given a broader image of what ethics and values the health industry contained. The majority of my health providers (such as Hurlock and Harris) are holistically based. They tend to focus on the intangible evidence and have a more qualitative outlook on healing. The gastroenterologist, however, as I perceived him is a man of numbers and facts, needing tangible evidence to satisfy his quantitative logic. My other grievance was, along with his strong opinions about my life, he didn’t really provide me with any answers, only diagnosing me with terms I’ve had been labeled with all my life. He mentioned ASD (anxiety stress disorder) and IBS, but I knew that already. What I didn't know was how I could fix a lifetime of adrenal fatigue and self-imposed stress and how my symptoms tied into it.

The urologist, another esteemed practitioner (who reminded me of the stereotypical grandfather image giving advice while on a fishing trip) was a little softer in his quantitative logic and needs for tangible evidence. Instead he listened and pondered and asked questions when appropriate. His practice was in no way what I’d consider an alternative practice, by his demeanor was. I felt no judgment as we talked about possible reasons as to why the UTI and other symptoms were happening now, and if his options matched my values and ethics. I was reserved at the thought of being on low dose antibiotics and very powerful antispasmodics for the next three months, but I do feel the difference after a week of treatment. 

The truth is somewhere in the middle, and for me that means joining the two logics and needs for evidence to see the bigger picture regarding my health. I can’t help the world sick. It’s as simple as that.

I end this long and non-recipe based post with a request. I am currently looking into other ways of stress management and anxiety diminishers. If anyone has had any experience similar to what I’ve gone through, from mindfulness exercises to probiotic recipes to balancing the antibiotic’s side effects, I’d love to hear from you.

Going with my Gut

Grad school started this week. That’s nine credits closer to getting my Masters. That’s three classes to take and three days of studying to focus on. I’ve started 2013 strong, and I am enjoying the little changes that have occurred since New Years. 

The only hindrance that has kept me from complete happiness has to do with the return of my IBS. Experimenting with Primal eating gave my digestion a run for its money, and as a result my body tried to remove the toxicity through my skin (acne), my emotions (depression and severe criticism on my body), my attitude (irritability and constantly thinking about going to the bathroom), the return of my sleep maintenance insomnia, slight but painful UTIs, and physically in general (bloating, water retention, and fatigue).

I do want to comment that Primal eating was not the direct cause of my IBS. In fact, it had to do with my lack of good stomach flora that was mediocre at best from years of disordered eating, getting sick, and not feeding the flora with probiotic foods. For a while I believed I simply had a candida overgrowth, but I don’t think that anymore.

I am now under the impression that my stomach doesn’t have much flora at all, the good kind or the candida kind.

Partially I was taking too much of a good thing. For the majority of December I was getting over a terrible sick spell. There were days I had a fever over 101°F, and walking down to the kitchen left me breathless and exhausted. So I took as much zinc and iodine as possible to get over it, and sure enough the fever subsided and I could go to work and rock climb a week later. However, with everyone else getting sick, I continued to take iodine to protect myself, an antibiotic and serial gut flora killer (good and bad).

For a month I was beside myself, because I had no idea what I was doing wrong. I was craving honey like no tomorrow, and regardless how much I rock climbed or ran around with the kids, my body was not toning as I expected it to. My face had broken out as it had back when I was a pre-teen, and my hormones were part of one manic roller coaster ride. By this time I was desperate to try anything, and it was an “aha!” moment that changed everything.

Before anything else in regards to my health, I needed to fix my gut first.

I first showed improvement by increasing my daily intake of probiotic foods: kombucha, goat kefir, raw unrefined apple cider vinegar, and raw cacao nibs. The first two were easy to put into my daily routine in the form of smoothies, and I always put apple cider vinegar on my salads. The cacao nibs have become a new after dinner dessert, but I enjoy the indulgence. I went food shopping at MOM’s one day to purchase one or two more probiotic yumminess when I stumbled upon miso… soy-free miso. 

Since reading Katz’s Wild Fermentation, I’ve wanted to make soy free miso and tempeh. And here it was in MOM’s refrigerated section next to the bulk items, singing  “try me, try me”.

I just want to say this: I’m in love with azuki bean miso. And what’s not to like about the salty and sweet flavor combination, with over one million enzymes of probiotic goodness in every teaspoon? It’s ridiculously versatile and delicious and amazing for you too. 

Soy-free Mushroom & Onion Miso Soup

1 Q. Water
25 g Dried mushrooms*
4 Large onions, thinly sliced
64 g (4 tbsp.) South River Azuki Bean Miso**
10 g Dried sliced brown seaweed

In a medium saucepan put the mushrooms in with the water to soak for fifteen minutes until plump.
Plan on medium-high heat and add the onions and cook until translucent and the mushrooms are soft.
Turn off the heat and add the seaweed and miso, and stir to make sure the miso has thoroughly integrated with the broth.
Ladle into four small bowls and serve hot.

Makes 4 servings.

*Using dry provides a more meaty texture to the mushrooms. However, I’m sure fresh will do nicely (about 125 g).

**Or whichever miso you like/have at home.

Not Quite the Caveman

My experiment with going Primal for "Good Nutrition Month" ended after three weeks. I couldn’t tell you when exactly it went awry, but I could tell you something was wrong before my birthday, and probably as early as a week into the dietary lifestyle change. All I know is I am honoring "Good Nutrition Month" by switching back to my old routine, though I still feel a little guilty not keeping it up for another week. 

When I said going Primal isn’t as difficult as you think it is, I truly meant it. For one, three weeks of no legumes, grains, no coffee, and limited fruit/sweetener intake was a challenge and an interesting way of evaluating my past and present dietary lifestyle. I was disappointed that my body reacted the way it did, as I was so excited to be part of the modern caveman experience, to positively figure out what my body needed in order to do what I wanted. I gawked at many of the people who ate this lifestyle, the majority who were “strictly” Paleo/Primal while others used a creative license (but nonetheless have a less-processed ethical-omnivore way of looking at food), and I was inspired to do the same. They were the epitome of "healthy" in my eyes, absolutely and marvelously in shape and beautiful in every way possible.

So I took out legumes and grains and incorporated raw and cultured dairy products. I went through the first week craving fruits and eating a ton of almond butter, followed by my appetite beginning to finally subside and mellow. The removal of coffee and the addition of progesterone to my hormonal therapy followed. Throughout October and part of November did I realize I was back to using food and exercise as a means of controlling my body to balance the uncontrollable situations coming at me in waves. With that came terrible IBS upset, intense intestinal distress, and shifting from one emotion to another in a matter of seconds.

I do not believe going Primal caused this imbalance; rather, I think doing too many good things at once finally caught up with me and turned sour. I do believe going from legume lover and grain glutton to “Me, Caveman. Four-leg, Dinner” overnight is not particularly smart for someone whose body stresses with immediate change. I do believe this experiment was worth it, and encourage people to try new ways of eating (safely and for the right reasons). And above all else, I do believe in honoring what my body tells me. When it says "enough", I listen. 

I loved making Primal meals, and I look forward to making them again. Perhaps two of the three main meals and all snacks throughout the day will have Primal tendencies. Perhaps four days out of the week will hold true to Mark’s Daily Apple “Primal Blueprint” movement while I enjoy huevos rancheros, overnight oats, socca, and legumes on the other three. I give what my body needs, and for the moment it needs gluten free grains and peanut butter. 

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.

Being Full

It seemed to come out of nowhere. Little by little, bit by bit, I felt it after every experience that I have mentioned (and not mentioned) on this site. For the first time, what seems to have been years, I am full. Contentedly, ecstatically full. I haven't been this happy or this grounded in such a long time.

From the breakup to meeting people that have become chosen family to farmers markets to fermentation and soaking to the death my family experienced last week, it has led me here: I am satiated, absolutely and wholly, because I know where I am going. I know who I am for me, and I know what I’m going to do to make the world a better place.

My sleeping better has quite a few variables, though I’m not sure which one is the main reason for my SMI going away: it could be I’m living life for myself, that I’m taking my second dose of Armour Thyroid earlier in the day, or, most likely, because I’m eating.

I’ve officially moved from “eating to live” to the “living to eat” category, and that doesn’t necessarily mean gluttony. It means that I’m able to pick up my body’s elusive cues, and trusting those cues, knowing that I’m hungry and why. I’ve started eating more, and as a result, my body is filling out. I’m still the around the same weight, less even, but my curves are more defined and for the first time ever I am accepting of my body.

Then of course there are those days I do wake up before 6 a.m., and I think to myself: “I have the choice of eating more and sleeping longer, and thus weighing “more”, or the choice of eating the amount I think I should, and thus waking up earlier and ‘weighing less’.” It’s that old voice of what I should be doing and what I should look like that gets me still, because it thinks of food, eating, and body image as “right or wrong”. It’s that old voice’s logic that I have to choose between sleep health and nutritional health, when my health as a collective is what I feel to be the most important. Finally, it’s that old voice that tries to rain on my parade that my body is filling out, because I had worked on controlling my body to be what I viewed as Beauty By Thinness for so long.

From this I learned that I’m surprisingly okay with this change (much to that old voice’s surprise and disdain), because I am still Morri: the girl who cooks, is progressively getting better at both yoga and rock climbing, is applying for grad school, and yes, is definitely going places.

So if that means I have the curves my body has tried for years to show what health looks like for me, I accept those terms unequivocally and entirely to their fullest extent. Now comes the challenge of eating when hungry over eating because of habit (as in, not eating at 9 a.m. because I’m no longer up at 3:30), and thankfully I have the tools and support to know the difference.

Swiss & Fig Grits Cake Squares

200 g CGF White grits
45 ml Whey
Filtered water
1 tsp. Sea salt
8 Large eggs
120 g Swiss cheese, sliced or grated
8 Fresh Black Mission figs, sliced vertically into fourths

In a bowl (preferably glass), combine the grits, whey, and water and let it sit covered at room temperature overnight to twenty-four hours.
Pour the contents of the grit mixture into a medium-sized saucepan, and pour additional filtered water so that it tops the grits halfway between the joints.
Preheat the oven to 350ºF.
Cook at medium-low heat until thickened, and then turn it off to cool slightly for thirty minutes.
In another bowl (possibly the bowl you used for soaking the grits), beat the eggs thoroughly, and while stirring the grits, slowly pour and integrate the ingredients to avoid curdling.
In a greased 12 x 12” baking pan*, layer with half the eggy grits mixture, cheese, fig, and top with the remaining grits. (If you half leftover fig slices, simply place it on top.)
Bake for 1 hour, until golden brown on the top and cooked through.
Turn off the oven and let it sit for fifteen minutes or so before cutting and serving.

Makes 16 servings.

* I have a preference for "tall" foods, ones with layers and stacked high rather than spread out. This recipe would also work with a larger pan, with one layer of the eggy grits topped with the fig and cheese (or whatever other ingredients you want to add).