Eating Cake on the Rooftop

On at least three separate occasions I have been asked if I’m still doing Meals with Morri. The short answer is yes. The longer answer obviously has more to it than that. 

When I first started, I was cooking and posting and writing on the regular, and in doing so I learned how to cook and post and write. I met a lot of talented and amazing people along the way. Companies and publishers reached out to me to write reviews for their products and cookbook authors. I learned to be picky, and when to say no.

But with the evolution of Meals with Morri, particularly the person behind it (i.e., yours truly), I started to become very critical of my art. If it wasn’t something I thought people wouldn’t like, it wasn’t posted. If the photos I took were not good enough, the recipe itself would have to wait. This doesn’t particularly bother me, because I have really blossomed with the food I’ve made, and the stories I’ve written about them have refined. The problem I am facing now is the realization as to why I love to cook, and why Meals with Morri has been lacking in recipes per month recently.

My motivation in making food is just that: making food. Not for me, but to share with others. Eating the same food with other people is such an important ritual for me. It’s a sacred act of connecting with others at the table. I had experienced a similar revelation while I was in Malta. When I lived alone, I just made food. There was nothing more to it than insuring I was eating enough. But when CK and I visited each other or I made food for the office, suddenly the creative juices were flowing in overdrive. And perhaps the underlying reason is to validate my art, to see that Meals with Morri was doing something positive in person. But really, I’ve come to realize that, like my previous aspirations to be a chef, I really love it when people eat and enjoy the food I make for them. 

Living with my parents after over a year of not doing so has meant that what they eat and what I eat doesn’t mesh as often as it used to when it was my responsibility to make dinner for the family. There’s nothing wrong with this, of course, but not sharing food I make with other people has affected my motivation to create and share recipes online. I like there being a reason for my art, and I want to experience that shared moment in person, in real time. CK and our two dear friends H and J have risen to the challenge in helping me see that it's equally important for me to enjoy my art, and are more than willing to help give me ideas in what to make (thanks, guys).

Last night, I was invited to a friend’s birthday party, and although I wasn’t asked, I made a cake that I knew I’d be able to eat. It was a rooftop party, one that overlooked other Washington, D.C. apartments and offices, the Washington Monument blinking lazily far away. The already present cupcakes had been eaten, and to my surprise, my cake was used to sing to him “Happy Birthday” (which I unashamedly conspired with his girlfriend in making happen). The cake was said to be quite good, and only a few people knew that it was gluten free. 

Rooftop Carrot Cake with Honey Sweetened Cream Cheese Frosting

For the cake
120 g White rice flour*
1/2 tsp. Baking soda**
1 tsp. Cream of tartar**
1/4 tsp. sea salt
1 tsp. cinnamon
2 eggs
1 tsp. Vanilla extract
150 ml olive oil
200 g coconut sugar
5 Carrots, grated

Preheat the oven to 350°F, and grease (I used butter) and flour (I used the white rice flour) one 9-inch pan.
In a medium bowl, sift together the rice flour, baking soda, cream of tartar, sea salt and cinnamon.
In the bowl of a stand mixer (or a larger bowl with a hand mixer), combine the eggs, olive oil, coconut sugar, and vanilla, and beat on medium-low speed until the mixture is slightly frothy.
Reduce the speed to low, and add the flour mixture in small increments, making sure to scrape down the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula each time.
Stir in the grated carrots, mixing until combined, and pour the batter into the prepared baking pan.
Bake for 40 - 50 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean (for me, this was 50 minutes).
Let the cake cool in the pan for 10 minutes, and then turn out onto a parchment lined wire rack to cool completely.
Once cooled, decorate the cake with frosting and other toppings you may enjoy (such as unsweetened coconut shavings).

Makes 1 cake, or 12 slices.

For the frosting (courtesy of this recipe)
8 oz package or 240 g Cream cheese, softened
56 g Unsalted butter, softened
85 g Honey
Unsweetened coconut shavings, as topping (optional)

Whip the cream cheese in a standing mixer until soft, then add the butter and honey to blend.
Mix on medium speed until smooth and creamy.

Makes 12 – 18 servings.

* NOT to be confused with sweet rice flour. If you do, you’ll get a mochi-like consistency.

** The baking powder equivalent is 1 1/2 tsp.

Celebrating 100,000+ pageviews with Birthday Cake!

I have an optimistic view of humanity. I believe in our potential. I believe in our ability to create. Above all, I believe in making a difference. Every one of us is capable for greatness, although greatness can seem very mundane and normal. Greatness doesn’t have to always mean fame or glory. Greatness sometimes doesn’t mean recognition either. Sometimes it means being there, for yourself or for another person, at the right place in the right way.

I thought I’d be elated when Meals with Morri hit another stepping-stone to success: one hundred thousand pageviews. It took almost four years, but it happened. I was excited, sure, until I started comparing myself to other gluten free bloggers out there: the ones who are published; the ones who are sponsored; the ones who found voices for their passions; the ones who seemed to stick to their path, so sure of what they wanted and continuing to evolve; and above all, the ones who were widely liked and talked about. Oh yes, the green monster called Envy hit me hard.

I really didn’t have a focus for Meals with Morri, other than seeing what I could make without gluten, soy, or cane sugar. I briefly touched upon having an under-functioning thyroid, some of the new ways I’ve learned to love my body (rock climbing, Insanity, yoga), my travels, a couple of book reviews and one for a product, and I thought about bringing activism into my writing. But for many years I was terrified of causing more harm than good with publishing what I thought, extremely careful in general to have a baseline of niceness and impartiality. Just focus on the food, not the politics, essentially.

Funnily enough, and quite embarrassing, it hit me the hardest when I happened to randomly click on one particular blogger: she's eighteen, a lover of yoga and fitness, cooks gluten free, had her site for less than two years… and she had over 1000 Likes on Facebook. Suddenly, the 100K didn’t seem to compare at all. Never mind that I have had people from all over the world read my blog and perhaps try my recipes. Never mind my personal journey to happiness and evolution. Never mind the Masters Degree. Never mind my ability to create and learn in the kitchen. Never mind the food.

It was politics, pure and simple, a popularity game that I so desperately wanted to win, or at least be a part of. I felt icky for feeling this way, until I realized what was beneath it: I felt like Meals with Morri didn’t matter anymore. And beneath that, I learned that of course it matters because I enjoy it. It matters to me. I connect with and learn about people and places through food. What I was yearning for, truly, was a focus, a niche, a way to really share with others.

While in Malta, I loved the people I worked with and what I did in the office, but I really struggled with living in the culture itself. I struggled with connecting with the Maltese people, and more often than not I spent my time at home after work, on Skype or doing Insanity. I felt like I didn’t belong there, awkward and foreign, simply because I couldn’t figure out how the island worked so that I could be a part of the island’s story. Similarly, I felt disconnected (and still do a little) from Meals with Morri.

 

One of my personal goals for this year is to learn to obtain internal validation. Up until this point, I was at school. It seemed like a pretty cut and paste sort of deal: I knew exactly what I was doing, and who I was. Without school and the unknown looming ahead in 2015, I was terrified. I didn’t know who to ask how I could be successful, and I didn’t know what questions to ask. I nitpicked at my choices, about why I just couldn’t be successful, why I was doing it wrong or wasn’t doing enough to get where I wanted to go. Meals with Morri went under the microscope, and I tore it apart with my fears.

But then I remembered: I didn’t start Meals with Morri for the glory. I started it because I thought it would be a fun way to empower myself in the kitchen and teach others about what I know about my trials and successes. I didn’t know that I would also go down the route of utilizing conflict resolution for food security and agriculture issues, hoping to work with local projects to redesign the cities/towns/neighborhoods they call home in bringing effective, self-efficient change. I was worried that Meals with Morri wasn’t the place for that. I was worried that I would lose that connection with people if I started talking about things that were, to be frank, political. 

What’s the saying? You cannot have your cake and eat it (too), right? It may not work out, but that can be said about a lot of things. I have no idea what this year is going to be like, considering that, at some point, I will have a job (hopefully one that is relevant and the people have similar passions) that will help in making a positive something happen. But I do know that I love food, I love the process and the people behind food, and I love the idea of bridging people together to finally work together along with this big blue marble we call home.

So at this juncture I’m just going to wing it. I’m going to start putting myself out there more, reaching out and trying new ways of connecting with others outside of my circles, network more openly, and to start believing that I can do things without other people validating me or giving me permission. I’m going to have that cake, eat a slice, and share its recipe.

This cake recipe has been part of a number of birthday celebrations for as long as I can remember. It’s one of the first desserts I made by myself, and it’s an easy one to do. The recipe I modified is found on the Hershey’s website, and I have used both King Arthur’s Multi-Purpose GF Flour as well as my choice of flours to make it. I substituted the cane sugar for coconut sugar with great success, and have made the cake in various shapes and sizes without any issue. I have also been able to halve and quarter the recipe depending on the number of people who are going to eat it without any issue.

It is the cake that Mama Dazz always asks for her birthday, and one that non-gluten freers are always happy to share with me. Since it is rather sweet, at least for my taste buds, I usually serve it with a lightly sweetened whipped cream but it would also do well with ice cream, fruit preserves, or a homemade caramel sauce.

I’ve made this recipe as cupcakes, as a thin sheet cake, and as thick round layers on top of each other. It is an incredibly easy and satisfying thing to make for whatever occasion you can think of celebrating, even if it’s to celebrate a quiet weekend at home.  

  

Healthified Chocolate Cake (adapted from Hershey’s recipe)

360 g Coconut palm sugar
126 g. Cocoa powder
1 1/2 tsp. Baking soda
1 1/2 tsp. Cream of tartar (or apple cider vinegar)
2 Eggs
90 ml Olive oil
240 ml Boiling water
140 g Rice flour
70 g Almond flour
1 tsp. Sea salt
240 ml Whole milk
2 tsp. Vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350°F.
Grease and flour two 9-inch round baking pans.*
Stir together the coconut sugar, flours, cocoa, leavening agents, and salt in a large bowl.
Add the eggs, milk, oil and vanilla, and then beat on medium speed of mixer 2 minutes (or by hand with wooden spoon.
Slowly, and in increments, stir in the boiling water (batter will be thin).
Pour batter into the prepared pans and bake for 30 to 35 minutes or until wooden pick inserted in center comes out clean.
Let the cakes cool for 10 minutes, and remove from pans to wire racks.
Allow them to cool completely before serving.

Makes 12 servings.

*Variations (directly from Hershey’s website):

For one-pan cake: Grease and flour 13x9x2-inch baking pan. Heat oven to 350° F. Pour batter into prepared pan. Bake 35 to 40 minutes. Cool completely. Frost.

For a three-layer cake: Grease and flour three 8-inch round baking pans. Heat oven to 350°F. Pour batter into prepared pans. Bake 30 to 35 minutes. Cool 10 minutes; remove from pans to wire racks. Cool completely. Frost.

For a Bundt cake: Grease and flour 12-cup fluted tube pan. Heat oven to 350°F. Pour batter into prepared pan. Bake 50 to 55 minutes. Cool 15 minutes; remove from pan to wire rack. Cool completely. Frost.

For cupcakes: Line muffin cups (2-1/2 inches in diameter) with paper bake cups. Heat oven to 350°F. Fill cups 2/3 full with batter. Bake 22 to 25 minutes. Cool completely. Frost. About 30 cupcakes.

A New Year for Meals with Morri: Catching Up and Moving Forward

A New Year. I can hardly begin to describe how weird it is to be back in the States. The last months in Malta were quiet ones, and although despite learning how difficult it is to live on your own an ocean away took up the majority of my cognitive ability, I feel better for having had the experience.

December 2013: When it all started

April 2014: One of my multiple visits to Rome, Italy to visit CK.

May 2014: Getting the hang of the whole intern thing

With turning twenty-five, I came to love myself. I learned to not only honor my body, but pride in its capability of making life one hell of a ride. I also learned what I was capable of, meeting a group of amazingly compassionate people (they know who they are) during my stay, and am looking forward to see what a Master's in CAR and a year abroad in Malta will take me.

November 2014: Birthday cake (recipe coming soon!)

December 2014: Christmas party and a prank payback

And coming back to the States, I was embraced by family, met online friends in person, and became even closer to a group of friends CK and I are part of and lovingly call the Wingmates.

December 2014: At the Toledo Zoo with CK and our dear friend, AS

At the end of 2014, CK and I shared our second anniversary.

But I also learned very hard lessons of being an adult: it isn’t about making money; it’s about making meaning. I had to learn to live with myself, to self-soothe the growing anxiety and panic of what was going to happen after I graduated, after I left Malta, after my three months in Italy come February. I learned to stick up for myself and bring my passions forward. I learned that being an adult is not seeing the world as black and white, good and bad, gluten free and death by gluten. I learned that being an adult is making change where there is injustice, and dreaming things real.

So here I am, having almost been three months silent, with a book review to make happen (this week, I swear!) and a few recipes behind. Each year I keep making the promise that I’ll be more productive on here, and every time I wish I had the time and the energy to produce the number of posts as I had done back in 2011. But graduate school and living in Malta were more important, because I could see tangible results in my work and they were crucial to my development and future. And sure, I have had wonderful opportunities to do reviews in the past, but it feels like I’m not as connected to readers as I would like, nor do I have a focus beyond hoping people will try my recipes and let me know how it worked out. There are plenty of people blogging about healthy living already, and so the struggle of keeping things new and original can be hard sometimes.

But being me has been interesting thus far, and when I am able, I will tell you all about my plans for 2015. So for now I'm just going to wing it. I'll post when I have stories and recipes to share. But in the meantime, enjoy photos taken of me rock climbing with my good friends SC and KJ.

Reflections on Being Abroad

I’ve noticed that I’m comparing my time in Sweden with Malta. I remember being rather sad that I wasn’t going home for the holidays, but I had a couple of months prior to prepare and get used to it. I didn’t have time to prepare in Malta. The holidays were just around the corner.

I have felt extremely fortunate to celebrate Yule/Christmas, our first anniversary, and New Years with CK. We used Skype to talk with our families, cooked fabulous meals (without an oven), explored Msida, Gżira, and Valletta, and have taken the time to just relax. For the first time in years, I’m consistently sleeping eight hours or more and do not feel obligated to be ‘on’ all the time. I feel more present, more real. 

In Sweden, it was easier to cope because I was in an environment I was used to; that is, a university setting. I lived on campus, surrounded by international and Swedish students alike, my boyfriend at the time living in the apartment across the hall from me. It was like George Mason University, only snowier and with more fikas. But my time in Malta is different: while I initially came here for college credit toward my Masters, and I do have another class or two to take, this is for 'real life' experience. This is for a job. I had to figure out where I was going to be living, how to manage a budget for food, rent, and utilities. After CK left for Rome, I immediately had to start learning how to live with myself. After tomorrow, I will be doing what I came here to do.

Vegetarian & Dairy-free Panna Cotta / Stovetop Eggplant Parmesan / Valletta

That scares the hell out of me.

And the hardest part is trying to get out of this Meals with Morri rut and actually coming up with recipes that work. (I cannot wait to have a working oven.)

On the plus side, it has been a nice break. I know the where the closest supermarkets are and what the fastest route to work is (with kitties everywhere). I’d been helping CK grade exams before he went back to school in Rome and am currently thinking of what I could write on Meals with Morri. Photography and writing look to be my artistic outlets of choice, and I hope to improve both while I’m here, maybe with some sewing and painting in between.

Morri in Malta

It’s hard to begin again after such a long hiatus. Graduate school, for lack of better words, is done. All I have left is the internship credits I will be completing in Malta and four more class credits I will complete online or as independent study. 

Malta goes all out around Christmastime

Meals with Morri, I am sad to say, was put on hold. The fall semester was freaking hard. At midterms, I just couldn’t focus. I had to give up a day of work just to have those three extra hours I didn’t have. My social life and my academic studies were greatly reduced because of recurring anxiety attacks and exhaustion. I didn’t rock climb. I didn’t do Insanity. I didn’t make recipes. I didn’t write. But I did get through it with A’s, and yes, it was worth bearing through.

So now I am in Malta for the 2014 year. I have an apartment near where I work. I spent quality time with Mama Dazz for the first ten days while I finished my finals. And for anyone who decides it is a good idea to move halfway across the world and finish three finals at the same time… seriously reconsider. 

Malta is so different than Virginia: an island so compacted with people and history and streets it is easy to get overwhelmed. The culture is vibrant and intimate: everyone knows everyone. The buildings are named, and directions are based on localized markers that only the people who have lived here all their lives could possibly know. And the people are quite possibly the friendliest and most accommodating I have ever met. 

As anyone with health concerns and dietary preferences can tell you, there is more to preparing for a trip than just buying the plane ticket or hotel room. There’s this physical dread of whether or not you will be able to eat anything substantial, whether or not people will understand – let alone know – what ‘[allergen] free’ is. There’s medication and supplements to have the pharmacy pack. There’s the insurance company to talk with about prescription travel overrides. There’s research on restaurants and nearby supermarkets to confirm, and whether or not the plane’s meal options are exactly what you can eat. It can be a downright terrifying experience, and you haven’t even boarded the plane yet.  

But Malta is different. The Mediterranean concept of food – simple, wholesome, and adaptable – reigns supreme here. In a place where a marathon is longer than the country is and the next city is literally next to the one you are in, the term ‘local’ is serious business. Small and specialized markets are found at practically every street corner and parking lot. Depending on the time of day, a produce truck will come by with their freshly picked fruits and vegetables to sell. Orange trees are common sights, and it takes every ounce of my being to not pluck one from someone’s yard to eat something with all of its richness still intact.

Perhaps it’s the feeling that I’ve left behind all the stress, but I cannot believe how many posts I want to write: how to search for gluten free items in a new country; how to turn gluteny Maltese favorites into gluten free delights; my experiences regarding my internship in a conflict resolution perspective; rock climbing excursions; restaurant reviews and EU food policies; practicing and enhancing my photography technique; keeping in touch with the people back home and making new friends; and mainly, how Malta made this gluten freer feel welcomed, accepted, and a little more confident.

Naturally, gelato is everywhere.

Homemade Gnocchi (recipe still in the works)

I don’t know how often I’ll post, considering I’ve never really lived on my own or worked a forty-hour work week longer than a month or two before, but I am most certainly going to try to not let there be months in between. Luckily, I have CK to keep me company until after the holidays.

Returning from Summer Break Mode

It’s funny. You would think that, following summer school and not working since the beginning of July, I’d be posting recipe after recipe after recipe. Funny, truly, because I was suddenly thrown a curveball of free time and I had no idea what I was going to do about it. Free time was something of an unknown thing to me, something I haven’t experienced in quite a while and, apparently, desperately needed.

I traveled a lot in July and August. I went on so many adventures and did so many things. What I didn’t do, however, was write down recipes or photograph finished plates. It was time well spent and it wasn’t recorded.

So here. The weekend before my last fall semester of grad school and I try to fill in the blanks of over a month of silence. I have new things to share and new recipes to try. Secret projects are still being worked on under the Meals with Morri banner, and secret they shall remain until they are completed. There is love and there is grief to express. There is perspective and there is uncertainty in the months (and possibly years) to come.

One thing is certain, dear readers, and it’s that Meals with Morri is changing. It was always intended to be an outlet, a way of sharing my ideas, art, triumphs, and stories. On the other hand, I have always been hesitant to share my beliefs about where food comes from and ethical sustainability, about global nutrition and the human condition. Meals with Morri will be home to these ideas as well, which have nothing to do with recipes and everything to do with society and politics.

This summer was a true break, one where for the first time I removed the world from my shoulders. Stress is a sickness that can destroy you if you let it, and for once I am sleeping. For once I’m not everything for everyone, and it is a glorious feeling. 

I write this as a way of stating that yes, I am alive (wonderfully so) and that I am evolving (as is Meals with Morri), that I am here and that I’m not going away.

September is the start of something new for this site. Be prepared for the shift.

One Year Closer

I did it. One year of grad school over, and another to follow. I don’t like to think about it very much, simply because the idea of leaving academia in search of a career scares the heck out of me. School was my only focus for months, and as a result my work at the community center suffered, as did my overall health and social life. I wrote my final papers and proposals in a haze of fatigue and tear-filled vision, my walls finally crashing down and hard. How long have I been like this, you ask. Too long, dear friends. Too long.

The Meals with Morri front page was up on the screen of my laptop on a daily basis yet untouched, a neglected hobby you once couldn’t tear me away from. At one point I had so many recipes and photos it took, I kid you not, weeks to get them all down. It’s been over three weeks, and not one recipe was recorded, with only one meal photographed. I didn't even celebrate my site's second anniversary back in April. Something was seriously wrong. 

Mother's Day Dinner: Grilled scallops & crispy polenta salad

I don’t take the idea of depression well. It’s a phenomenon that happens to other people, whereas all I experience is a funk that won't go away. All the stress and the obligations and the things I simply wasn’t doing were purposefully replaced with over-activity and worrying. I wasn’t eating enough, sleeping enough, or being enough… and people noticed. All I wanted to do was sleep and read, a red flag telling me to slow down if I ever saw one. But I didn’t slow down. I just kept going and going and going.

I know I said I wouldn’t use the “h-word” early on in my writing, but I’m using it now. I hated it. I hated that I couldn’t do it all. I hated that people and activities I loved with every essence of my being were left in the dust while I scrambled to make everything work. The past wouldn’t stay where it was, and the future was a mixture of uncertainty and terror. Never mind the present, I said to myself, because if I work my butt off now I will have everything in place for later. That’s the thing about time, though: it’s always the present.

So with summer school starting next week, I’ve decided to change my focus. I’m not working at camp this year, sadly, but I will have the energy to get through school and also spend these months being with friends and family, starting new hobbies, and going on adventures. 

After all, Life isn’t about how much you do but how much it means to you doing it.

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.

Calling All Bagels!

When I first became gluten free, I essentially focused on eating “whole grain” foods such as rice, potatoes, corn, and quinoa. I bought a block of brown rice bread to make toast, both the toaster and French kind, and swore by rice crackers to anyone who would listen. As far as I was concerned, that was all I needed.

Transitioning to the gluten free lifestyle in 2008 was the perfect time to be gluten free. Cookbooks and baking mixes and labeling were showing up everywhere and in abundance. I started to do research, buying mixes and cookbooks, and became interested in food like I never was in my BGF days. While I was rather obsessed in a less than healthy way about what I considered to be healthy food and eating, I never thought how much I would change simply because I took wheat/gluten out of my diet.

When I was finally diagnosed with hypothyroidism in April of last year, I felt it was the perfect opportunity to unveil my idea for Meals with Morri. The blog itself had been sitting dormant for almost a year, and I still had no idea what my focus what going to be (aside from the gluten free lifestyle, of course). After the diagnosis, however, I became enthralled with how to live a happier and healthier life, and for some reason it was extremely food-oriented. It took another year before I started really looking into understanding how diet and other lifestyle choices affected a person with hypothyroidism, and how I could help the world by providing recipes, storytelling, and current events (the third being a relatively new concept on this blog). Meals with Morri has been viewed by people from all over the world, and I am so humbled to see how far it has come in a year. And although I consider myself still a novice with big dreams, I will never forget where it all started.

It all started with bagels.

Bagels were the epitome of my childhood. There were nights where Mama Dazz and I couldn’t sleep and we’d have late-night bagel parties in the kitchen. When I attended Catholic school and sang in the choir, we went to Einstein’s Bagels after the one Sunday a month I was required to sing for a sermon. (I always got lox on an "everything" bagel. Best. Combination. EVER.) Whenever we went on vacation and had to drive somewhere, like Virginia Beach, New York, or North Carolina, I ordered a McDonald’s breakfast sandwich as, you guessed it, a bagel.

Bagels were my favorite baked good, and I loved it with cream cheese, jam, peanut butter, honey, butter, etc. When I became gluten free, I was not impressed with the options I had, so I did the most logical thing I could think of: I made them myself.

My 2010 Bagel success.

My “I have no idea on the fundamentals of gluten free baking so I’m going to wing it” experience with bagels were simple enough: gf baking mix + gf bagel recipe = gf bagels. But then I started playing around with flours and gums, mainly rice flour, glutinous rice flour, tapioca starch, and xanthan gum, and I liked the results much better. For some reason, though, I stopped trying to perfect bagels even before Meals with Morri was a sparkle in my eye.

Soon after, the Gluten Free Ratio Rally rekindled my desire for a delicious bagel.

What I love the most about this movement is the joint effort of showing the world that, if you have a ratio for a recipe, you can use just about anything to make it. Whatever the types of flours, liquids, sweeteners, or binders you use, having a ratio makes it possible. Measuring ingredients by weight is fundamental for this process, even for those not living the gluten free lifestyle. Cake flour does not have the same properties as whole-wheat flour, so we should not assume garbanzo bean flour is the same as buckwheat flour. True, many flours can be and are interchangeable, but having a scale makes it significantly easier to experiment with different ingredients and flour combinations. What the GFRR has done is bring a lot of passionate people from all over cyber space, many with additional dietary restrictions to consider, and turn a ratio into a recipe that can be enjoyed by many who have to work around the same allergies, intolerances, and health issues. It is a movement to show how empowering it is to embrace your so-called dietary/health “restrictions”.

If you have a ratio, i.e. a foundation for a recipe, you can make/do anything.

When the spaces for the 2012 months needed to be filled, I enthusiastically exclaimed that April would be all about bagels and that I’d love to host the process. Despite my getting sick for the majority of the month, I made many batches of bagels. After all, I was hosting. With Udi’s making a bagel that looked and acted like one (never ate one personally, but I’ve heard positive reviews), I felt there was this expectation to making The Perfect Bagel, especially since I was hosting. And despite my learning that I should keep it simple before dressing up the recipe, I went ahead and dressed it up anyway.

I had in mind to create a sweet potato bagel, but I started getting frustrated with the trials. That, and we were running out of sweet potatoes.

The first thing you must realize when making bagels is: do not use the entire yeast packet. Bruce Ezzell’s bagels called for 3 g of yeast to his 1.9:1 flour:water ratio (or 2.25:1 sponge:flour ratio if you prefer), and for some reason I was surprised how yeasty and “spongey” the dough was when I put seven times the amount of yeast in it. It tasted sour and I had to add over 100 g of additional flour to compensate.

The second trial, in addition to correcting the yeast amount, focused on changing how I used the sweet potato. For the first trial, I used it as part of the flour ratio, which probably made the dough wetter than it should have been. So I used it as the “liquid”, making it dry and having to balance that issue with additional liquid, going from too dry to too wet in seconds. Instead of putting in flour, however, I put in whole CGF rolled oats. I still wasn’t content with the bagels, but the oats did something to the flavor and the texture that reminded me of a hearty bagel.

To be honest, the sweet potato bagel was not my first bagel idea. My original idea was to make a blueberry bagel, but not in the traditional sense. With my CGF oats, both whole and powdered, my mad scientist tendencies were flaring up and I was inspired to try out my blueberry idea. So what did I do? I bought freeze-dried blueberries, powdered the dickens out of them, and incorporated that blueberry flavor (and purplish color) throughout the entire bagel.

As hostess, I stuck with Ezzell’s ratio as best as I could, though I think I would have liked the recipe better made with other binders like egg. But I followed the directions and used the ratio that was given to me, even making it vegan-friendly. I halved the recipe due to the overabundance of bagels on the kitchen counter, and it will make a week’s worth of bagels you can eat for breakfast each morning with a smear of nut butter or cream cheese.

Will I try again? Definitely. Will I compare the difference between the “traditional” bagel versus the ones made with eggs and oil? Oh, yes.

For now, I give you my recipe for this month’s GFRR, and it was such an honor to host it.

Blueberry Oat Bagels

For the sponge: to be made 4 to 12 hours before baking, but any longer will result in a very yeasty (and admittedly sour) bagel.

100 g Quinoa flour
100 g Garbanzo bean flour
50 g Flaxseed meal
250 ml Warm water
3 g Dry active yeast

Combine the ingredients in the bowl of a standing mixer and mix with a spoon till the ingredients are combined.
Set aside at room temperature for at least 4 hours. (To get the blooming process going, I put the bowl on the stovetop in the back while the oven was preheated on the warm setting for an hour or so.)

To make the bagels:

100 g CGF oat flour
93 g CGF rolled oats
1 1/2 – 2 tsp. Sea salt
18 g Maple syrup
30 g Freeze-dried blueberries, powdered

Baking soda (1/2 tbsp. for every 2 liters or 1/2 gallon of water)

Preheat the oven to 400ºF.
Add the salt, maple syrup, blueberry powder, oat flour, and oats to the sponger, and attach dough hooks to your mixer and mix at low speed for a few minutes until thoroughly combined. (This can also be done by hand.)
Once the dough is mixed, remove it to your counter and cover with a cloth to let it rest for 5-10 minutes.
While the dough is resting, place a wide, fairly deep pot filled with water on the stove to heat (measure the water so you know how much baking soda to use).
Once the water comes to a simmer add the baking soda.
Divide the dough into 6 - 7 pieces, and round each piece and set aside to rest for a few more minutes, covered.
To shape take each ball of dough, flatten out slightly using the palm of the hand, making a disc approximately 3.5 inches wide.
Make a hole in each using your thumb and place back on the counter, covered, to rise.
After 10 minutes flip each bagel over so the bottom is now facing up. (When this side begins to get slightly puffy and rounded it is time to boil.)
While the bagels are in their final rise bring your water to a simmer, then add the baking soda.
Drop the bagels 3 – 4 at a time into the simmering water (depending on how large your pot is).
They bagels will drop to the bottom and slowly begin to rise. (When this happens, flip the bagels, either with a spatula or flattened spoon, and let them simmer for another minute.)
Remove from the water using a skimmer or large spoon, and place them on a half-sheet pan lined with parchment paper.
Bake for 15 – 20 minutes or until golden brown.

Makes 6 – 7 bagels.

So, who else participated in this month’s GFRR? Continue on to find out!

Brooke | B & the boy    Peanut Butter & Jelly Bagels
Jenn | Jenn Cuisine     Sun-dried Tomato Parmesan Bagels
Mary Fran | FrannyCakes     Cinnamon Raisin Bagels
Adina | Gluten Free Travelette     Garlic Egg Bagels
Heather | Discovering the Extraordinary     Gluten-Free Bagels, with variations
gretchen | kumquat     Cinnamon Raisin Teff Bagels
Jean Layton | GF Doctor Recipes Gluten-Free     Sourdough Bagels
Meaghan | The Wicked Good Vegan     Vegan Gluten-Free Bagels
Meg | Gluten-Free Boulangerie     Classic Poppyseed Bagels (Vegan/Food Allergy-Safe)
*Morri (Me!) | Meals with Morri     Blueberry Oat Bagels
TR | No One Likes Crumbley Cookies     Classic Gluten-Free Bagels
Angela | Angela's Kitchen     Gluten Free Bagels with variations
Caleigh | Gluten Free[k]     Orange and Caraway Bagels
Caneel | Mama Me Gluten Free     Just Plain Bagels
Pete and Kelli | No Gluten, No Problem     Faux Pumpernickel Bagels

The Morri behind the Meals

In retrospect, I should have probably started my blogging adventure with this post.

I mean, here I am, unknown to the gluten free community, both virtual and physical, and I have the audacity to post a recipe. About pancakes. Without even introducing myself. Though you have to admit, those were some tasty pancakes.

Hello there. My name is Morri. And this is my blog.

So now you’re probably wondering, why isn’t she putting this information in her “About” page? Because, my friends, that "About page" isn’t necessarily about me, nor do I want it to be. It’s about the site and what you should expect when you visit my modest abode in cyber space. This post, on the other hand, is like a blind date. Before you read this, any preconceived notions you have of me may or not be true. But this is why I’m writing this, now, while I am waiting for my latest quick bread/muffin recipe to bake in the oven, eating my favorite snack of all time (Granny Smith apple with peanut butter, hemp protein powder, and chia seeds. Looks weird, tastes amazing.). And like a blind date, after you read this and try out my recipes, you can decide whether or not we’re compatible.

I am what people call an “acquired taste.” I am also a Conflict Analysis and Resolution major at George Mason University. So it evens out, I suppose. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Let us get started, shall we?

I was born C. (Morri)gan Sands twenty-one years ago on a stormy day in November. As a 5 lb 9.5 oz bundle of joy, I was called Morri from the start. It’s the baby name I never grew out of, a name that is as unique and often misspelled, often pronounced MAW-REE similarly the way one says Maura. The way I get people to remember, though, is to say: “It’s like ‘Tuesdays with Morrie’, only without the ‘e’.” For a while I resented the fact that even my very name was different. But I embrace my difference now, for you see… It is a miracle that I am even alive.

From the moment I inhaled deeply my first breath of life, simply existing was difficult. I was a toxemia baby, a long tiny bug of a thing with a large head and transparent skin. In my first two years of life, I was in and out of the hospital with kidney infections and fevers and other things I don’t remember. The doctors told my parents I wouldn’t live past toddlerhood.

But I was persistent. I demanded to be part of this world, and I wasn’t going without a fight.

From the ages of three to nine I had the most terrible migraines imaginable, ones I rated to hurricane intensities. Puberty was not kind. I was a butterball despite my active lifestyle (being on my neighborhood swim team in the summer and my soccer days in the fall). I had poor body image, wishing I were like popular girls in my class: slender, developed, the ones all the boys had crushes on. I didn’t like myself, though I was social enough and had many friends. Disordered eating took on many faces from then to now. Food was regarded as a necessary evil, something I hated to enjoy, something I hated having to consume in order to survive.

I was such a silly girl then.

Does anyone ever wish they could go back in time and tell their younger selves it’s all going to be okay? Does anyone ever wish they could change some key points in their past so their future is different, but ultimately you’re still you? Sometimes I do, but they’re fleeting fancies. It’s what I know now that matters. Without that little sickly butterball I used to be, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. And I think I’m a pretty bangin’ person.

Speaking of which, the muffins are done. :)

 

Mmmmmm… Delish.

You know, I feel this BGF (before gluten free) eulogy of the sad times has gone on long enough. That was the old Morri, the girl who was sickly, frustrated, and angry. The old Morri doesn’t exist anymore. The old Morri was merely the caterpillar that decided to take matters into her own hands, become a chrysalis to prepare herself for the joys of being a butterfly, and embrace this beautiful world of ours and be seen the way she was always meant to be.

That’s not to say life was easy. I don’t have celiac disease, but I am gluten intolerant. I know how it feels to be glutened, and let me tell you, it stinks. I am also unable to handle refined sugars very well, even when it’s organic cane sugar. As for soy, my body seems to do better without it.

I think the thing that really affected me was that, within this last year specifically, I seemed to be failing somehow. I was eating healthily, working out regularly (as in, three to five times a week), relatively a healthy and happy young woman. So then, why wasn’t I feeling like I should be? Was it the stress of going abroad to Sweden to study in the Peace and Development Program at Linnaeus University in Växjö? Was it the terror of the unknown, as my upcoming graduation in the fall looms closer and closer? Was it that everything in my life was changing and I couldn’t adjust?

Why was I obsessed with calorie counting? Why was I limiting my food intake to less than 1200 calories a day? Why was I so tired all the time? Why did it feel like I was losing my mind? Why did it seem like my body was failing me?

The endocrinologist who administered and reviewed my blood work in February said I was fine, even though my T-cell count was low, my cholesterol was high, my average body temperature was under 97°F, my hands and feet were like ice with yellow coloration, and my hormones were imbalanced. And what was I prescribed? A low glycemic diet, plenty of exercise, and an assurance I was “normal.” I already did those things, but if how I felt was normal… Sometimes what is normal isn’t always right. And to be perfectly honest, I don’t do “normal”.

Though I respected the endocrinologist and her hard work to help me, I sought out another professional opinion, a holistic and alternative practitioner’s opinion. After hearing my story, she leans over her desk and looks at me squarely in the eyes.

“Did you know that those are symptoms of a hypothyroid?”

“But what about the blood work?” I asked her.

So she explains it to me like this. Consider your body to be this 72” widescreen television and the cable to watch these amazing shows on your television to be your blood. Cox communications is much like blood work, where it records that you have a television to watch these amazing shows, sometimes having the ability of showing the company that your television is indeed working. Typically however, it doesn’t; the only ability the company has is seeing you have a television, not if it works or not.

Basically, you could have a smashed television screen, pieces of glass and plastic scattered all over the living room floor, wires sticking out and sparking, but the company still only sees what the cable is outputting.

They would say your television is working fine, that it’s normal.

I left her office relieved. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, I was given a clear and honest diagnosis. What’s more, I was given a way to fix it.

It’s been three days since I’ve been on the Armour Thyroid, and I feel… amazing. Incredible. Marvelous. Ecstatic. I feel all these things and more. Living is effortless, like the universe is my partner in crime and, together, we can do anything. I am more aware than I have ever been of my body, my surroundings, my existence. I not only like myself; I love myself. My disordered eating tendencies seemed to disappear overnight. I’m not obsessively counting calories in my head. I’m eating what my body wants and not feeling bad for it.

This blog initially was to heal my relationship with food, to rid myself of orthorexia and other types of disordered eating once and for all. Who would have thought that a hypothyroid was the cause of all this internal chaos and physical dissatisfaction, and how much of a change a mere three days has brought. I can’t wait to see what three months of feeling exactly as I do now brings.

I know now that healing isn’t just a one-time fix. It’s a process made and intended to last a lifetime, one that requires frequent evaluation and tweaking. It took me all of my twenty-one years of existence to get to this point, and oddly enough, much of my healing has taken the form of cooking.

But despite these so-called restrictions, my palate has certainly evolved into something of a novelty. Being gluten free was merely a gateway into way of healing I could hardly imagine. It was just the beginning, and I’m learning new things every day. I am often regarded as the “hostess with the mostess.” Nothing makes me happier than creating nourishing and uplifting dishes for my loved ones to enjoy. Cooking is healing in all of its phases: the individual ingredients, the preparation, the time, the devotion, the outcome, the eating, all of it.

Daily I am asked “With all those things you can’t have, what do you eat?” Though I am jokingly said to eat nothing but rabbit food (I like bunnies… as in, a lot), I do in fact eat a plethora of things. I am eating things I never would have believed possible, simply because my diet is  “restrictive”. The meals I eat are balanced in flavor and nutrition, and although I am not officially vegetarian (let alone vegan), eating vegetarian or vegan meals is not as hard as it seems to be. Without refined sugar and all those artificial additives, I can taste the natural sweetness in everything. When baking, instead of restricting myself to wheat-based flours like someone who typically eats gluten, I am able to make thousands of flour combinations, never making the same recipe twice.

Does that sound “restrictive” to you? I didn’t think so. If anything, I have limitless possibilities. That’s the very thing that I like about this lifestyle. It’s all about variety. It’s all about stepping out of your little box and daring to go farther than you ever thought you could go.

This so-called “restrictive living” is the total opposite. In actuality, it’s freeing, it’s enlightening, it’s inclusive. It’s one huge adventure that anyone can be a part of, that my family and friends have been such wonderful influences (and great sports) in trying my recipes and accommodating theirs to my needs. This blog is as much about people coming together as it is about the recipes. The people in my life inspire me more than I can ever articulate.

That is what it’s all about, what this blog is all about, and what I am all about.

Compromise and variety, two things I never leave the house without.