Growing a Green Thumb

If there is one thing I’ve learned this year that has forever changed my outlook of things, it is this: Green Thumbs are planted.

Up until Meals with Morri transformed my perception of health and food, I never really sought to answer the question, “Where does our food come from?” We go to the supermarkets and farmers markets, many of us not realizing the time and effort it takes for such things to get onto our plates. Sure, perhaps I had this inkling when I visited Hollin Farms and saw the pumpkins on the vines and the various root vegetables in the ground. But there was this disconnect of understanding the concept of gardening for me, believing farmers (both in the rural and urban sense) and people who could grow herbs on their porch to have this niche I just didn’t inherit. Most of my caring for flora had turned dry and brown and… well, dead. So at an early age, I thought I was a serial killer for all of green-kind.

That changed in college. I kept a couple of plants sporadically throughout my undergraduate studies, mostly the seasonal potted plants from Trader Joe’s. I was able to keep a clover plant alivelonger than I had expected, and it then transitioned to a series of succulents, a spider plant, and then a lavender plant. Except for the clover plant, the first of my Green Thumb experiments, the rest are alive and well based on this crucial secret: the amount of sun, water, and soil type a happy plant makes.

 The year 2012 was a crucial point in my Green Thumb Development. Although I was adamant about having a garden, I didn’t feel confident enough to try; instead, I began reading all I could about the where’s, how’s, why’s, and when’s of food production and gardening. “Sustainable development” was the term I fell in love with and desire to understand all I could to combine certain aspects of food and the conflict resolution discipline. I studied urban farming, vertical gardening, the controversy of GMO politics, food security, hunger, and the “local movement”.

By 2013, Grad School was in full swing and Meals with Morri was put on the back burner in the worst way. For someone to go at it full-time, sacrifices are made on how many hours you work, how often you see friends and family, when you can travel and for how long, and downtime. (And blogging? Forgetaboutit.) I was an emotional wreck during the spring semester, and I was so burnt out by the summer that I didn’t have the energy to do anything. Frustration and anger simmered beneath the surface, with the feeling of hopelessness and total lack of control constantly looking me in the mirror. I began doubting everything, especially my ability and readiness for what awaits me after graduation: Do I have the knowledge to be part of a collaborative process in food security and policy? Will I have a career that I believe in?

At the end of May, what with finals finishing and summer school starting, I took up gardening and the Insanity Workout challenge to deal with the depression that began to form. I meant to talk about both months ago (including said depression), but the more I fell in love with both concepts and the more the situational depression darkened my disposition, the more quiet I became about it. In truth, I was afraid that if I wrote about the processes and failed en route, there would be a documented reminder of those failures for the entire world to see, and thus creating one more reason to be upset. My friends and family knew about both exploits, but I wanted to post the finished products (in other words, the triumphs) on the site.

But I saw both experiments through, and I am extremely proud of myself for that. I finished Insanity after ten weeks (still doing it from time to time, although not as religiously as the 6x weekly schedule), and I started that garden I always wanted. “There are worse things to do during Grad School,” Mama Dazz had said a joke, because when I am set to do something, I do it (and this can be positive and negative, depending on the context).
 
That being said, it all started with dirt.

Correction: It all started with one thousand pounds of dirt.

Mama Dazz gifted me with ten tree planter containers, in the logic that container gardening was easier to manage and you could control the type of soil you worked with. I initially started with small plants ready for transfer (nothing fancy… just Home Depot purchases): two tomato plants, three pepper plants, two garlic cloves (from the store), one cucumber plant, one okra plant, seven sweet potato plants, and a series of herbs that I thought would be good for beginners. I also transplanted my elderberry bush into one, and after it finally assimilated to the outdoors, it began to thrive beautifully.

I used two cinderblocks to plant flowers from packets I bought from MOM’s Organic Market, and a plastic container to grow bell peppers from seeds we got at Trader Joe’s. I also simply planted a whole pumpkin into the ground last fall to see if it would be as successful as the accidental garden I had the year before…  you know, just for giggles.

To reiterate, I didn’t do this to eat what I grew, but to go through the process of tending to different kinds of plants and learning what helps them grow or causes them to fail. Both the cucumber and pumpkin plants didn’t turn out so well. I got one cucumber from the plant early in the summer, but after that the little cucumbers that could were consistently shriveling up. The pumpkin created beautiful leafs and flowers until the white spots formed and the flowers were falling off. The vine showed signs of rot, and thus I gave it (along with my cucumber plant) a proper burial in my compost pile.

The nightshades were the most successful and the easiest to grow. So successful, in fact, that both tomato plants are heavy with fruit and the peppers popular among the pests. 

 

The sweet potatoes were my instant gratification harvest; even though the tubers were relatively small, I still enjoyed pulling them up from the soil and seeing what ninety days in the soil did for their growth.

Gardening gives me a sense of responsibility and control while dealing with stress. It’s a meditation of sorts to go outside in the morning and/or in the late afternoon, turn on the hose and do my rounds (starting with the quince tree I got Mama Dazz, refilling the birdbath, and then watering my garden). I feel empowered that I can work with plants and learn how they succeed and how they perish.

I feel my Green Thumb rooting itself in my consciousness for the future, and that future is currently looking into beets, winter greens, carrots, and radishes for a December harvest.

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.

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.

Self-Realization and Without a Plan

I have been wondering almost to an obsession why I have suddenly come to a standstill. Over a week had gone by and there wasn’t a recipe made, a photo taken, or a witty post written. I came back from my long weekend in Florida and discovered something daunting and rather terrifying: I lost my plan.

It didn’t occur to me until a few days ago what my breakup would mean in the long run. Here I was at twenty-two (a month shy of turning twenty-three), in a relationship with a man I thought was the forever kind, and poof! All the plans and dreams that involved "us" were gone, completely thrown out the window as if it never existed. I was feeling, for lack of better words, lost, because for 2.5 years I didn’t have a plan without him in it.

“We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” (J. Campbell)

Flash forward to today, with hormones and emotions flaring up, and I have been looking into new plans, short and long-term goals for what I want to do in life. My friend in Florida and our mutual friend in Italy have shown me from their past heartbreaks that the heart does heal and the world will not implode in on itself while being single. By no longer having a plan that includes another person at this point in my life, I can focus on my studies, my health, my passions in conflict resolution/food justice/sustainable development, and learn the beauty of solitude and inner quiet.

 "By creating a strong body and emanating good health, we attract more of the same in our lives." (R. Mars)

The world seems so vast and new, raw and intimidating. I have started to see how much of ourselves we give to others, intentionally or not, and the positive and negative effects it can have on you as a whole. You start to question yourself: Did I make this decision for me or because it was expected? The scary part is wondering whether or not you would know the difference.

You think you know everything in your early twenties. You think you can handle whatever trials the world decides to throw at you, because it is what is expected. I can’t believe how much self-inflicted stress I endured because I felt I didn’t have the plan that suited the expectations of everyone else  (Rosenberg and Gandhi’s (2003) Nonviolent Communication has really helped in this department). Once my old plan literally fell to pieces, the one that consisted of pleasing everyone along with unrealistic goals and expectations I had put upon myself, self-realization and an inner calm overtook me.
 
In a lifetime of gasping for air, in asking for the right to breathe, I could feel my entire lungs utilized and I breathed deeply. I’m sleeping throughout the night and eating healthily. I’m finally acting my age and having fun doing it.

So what’s my plan? To keep doing what I’m doing, and learning all I can along the way. I’m going to continue being inspired by the people life puts on my path, love them and honor them for the lessons they bring. I’m going to give generously, receive fully, and pay it forward whenever I can.

And naturally, with an assortment of recipes coming your way. 

The Breakfast of Champions and other Delectable Things I Want to Share

It’s funny how much seems to change when you’ve slept. When you don’t sleep, eating healthily and exercising won’t mean diddly-squat; you’ll retain water, gain weight, crash, and be a crying mess like I was last week. This is even more significant to those with thyroid problems, because insomnia and other sleep disorders are very common.

So what is the sleep-diet connection? To paraphrase this WebMD article by Denise Mann:

"Exactly how lack of sleep affects our ability to lose weight (or in my case, maintain it) has a lot to do with our nightly hormones. The two hormones that are key in this process are ghrelin and leptin. Ghrelin is the ‘go’ hormone that tells you when to eat, and when you are sleep-deprived, you have more ghrelin. Leptin is the hormone that tells you to stop eating, and when you are sleep deprived, you have less leptin.

More ghrelin plus less leptin equals weight gain."

I noticed this immediately after the first night fully slept. Not only was I not starving, I was also fuller on less. My exercising had been plateauing for months, and it improved literally overnight. I had a more pronounced belly pooch than ever, making me extremely self-conscious and aware of my weight, and it flattened within twenty-four hours.

That being said, I’m a different Morri than I was a few days ago… and loving it.

Food, I noticed, had lost its luster since my SMI started. I didn’t enjoy it as I once had, nor did I enjoy shopping for it. I made recipes, and I loved making them, but my well-rested body savors the process even more. 

When I wake up, I smile.

When I eat, I can appreciate it.

Which brings me to the title of the post. I always became so frustrated with my 2:30 a.m. breakfasts, because I usually wanted to put more effort into the meal. But when you’re starving and tired, you don’t want to use up the little energy you have. To think, months of breakfast ideas neglected because of SMI. Months of the same breakfast bake, the same flours, the same cooking process, the same feeling of exhaustion and anger and…

You know what? That’s enough bitterness for today. This post is about breakfast, and a yummy breakfast at that.

On Saturday, Mama Dazz and I ventured out to MOM’s Organic Market, and I reveled in the experience like it was my birthday. Shelf after shelf had products that were Morri-friendly, and I had forgotten how much I missed going on foodie adventures.

(source)

Why do I like MOM’s? Well, the location in Alexandria is a breath of fresh air, currently with tomato plants for sale outside and an arrangement of delights inside. You are greeted by sincere smiles, personnel willing to help you and answer your questions, and delicious produce grown with love and the environment in mind. We went there for raw apple cider vinegar and came out with bags of cool stuff. Funny how this seems to happen quite a lot...

Anyway, here is a list of a few of the treasures from our MOM’s excursion that I am officially in love with:

(source)

 Eden Foods Organic Ume plum vinegar

(source)

 New Grist gluten free beer

(source)

 Coco Hydro all natural coconut water electrolyte mix

(source)

 Wax Orchards fruit-sweetened dark chocolate sauce

(source)

Vega One all-in-one nutritional shake (single packets, natural and chocolate flavor)

Saturday was a great day of gastronomic proportions. I’d forgotten how much I loved the creation of a meal, the excitement of trying new products, and the beauty of the simple things.

I’m particularly excited to share my Vega One experience, because it was part of the breakfast that I’m sharing with you today. I bought the two flavors to try them out before buying it bulk to see if I liked it, how it managed my blood sugar, and how it affected my body. My plan was to have a nutritional shake with the apple muffin recipe I promised to make three weeks ago. And let me tell you, it definitely was a Breakfast of Champions combination.

I made the shake with the natural-flavored Vega One single-serving packet, 1/2 a frozen banana, and 275 ml Almond milk (vanilla, unsweetened). It wasn’t overly sweet, and it reminded me of cake batter in terms of taste. Plus, it is dairy, gluten, and soy free with no added sugar, all things I look for in a protein powder. It is also a favorite of the Pure2Raw twins, Lori and Michelle, and you can find a list of their other favorite plant-based protein powders here. So while I’m ordering Vega One in bulk, enjoy this much belated muffin recipe.

It's great to be back.

Apple Spice Muffins

60 g Buckwheat flour

60 g Garbanzo bean flour

60 g Mesquite flour

60 g Almond flour

1 tsp. Sea salt

1 tsp. Cinnamon

1/2 tsp. Cloves

1/4 tsp. Nutmeg

120 g Unsweetened applesauce*

240 g Whole milk yogurt*

2 Large eggs*

1 tsp. Bourbon vanilla extract

1 Granny Smith apple, finely diced

1 tsp. Baking soda**

1 tsp. Unrefined apple cider vinegar**

Coconut oil, for greasing the muffin tins

Preheat the oven to 350ºF.

Combine the flours and spices in a medium-sized mixing bowl and set aside.

In a separate bowl, mix together the applesauce, yogurt, eggs, and vanilla, and then add it to the dry ingredients.

Fold in the apple to the batter along with the baking soda and apple cider vinegar, and let it sit on the counter for five minutes.

Pour the batter into a regular-sized muffin tin and bake for 30 minutes or until done (which can be seen by poking a knife down the center and the blade comes up clean).

Remove the muffins from the oven and let them cool for 10 minutes in the pan before removing.

Serve warm or place in the fridge for later consumption (and FYI, they freeze beautifully).

Makes 10 – 12 regular-sized muffins.

*If you can recall from my most recent muffin post, I stressed the importance of the wet ingredients being a room temperature. But since this recipe doesn’t have any fat such as butter or oil that would otherwise harden in the presence of cold ingredients, it isn’t necessary. 

**In place of baking powder, I usually do equal parts of baking soda and apple cider vinegar/cream of tartar. But if you if have baking powder on hand, homemade or otherwise, replace both baking soda and vinegar for the same amount.

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.

My Peace in a Pan

In February, my Dad took me to see Arlo Guthrie after a scrumptious meal at Walker’s Grille. I mention this a month later because I couldn’t think of a post (nor the recipe) to share this story. It’s a very special story, and I wanted to share it in the right context.

Which part of the story was special, you ask: the dinner or the concert? They both were special, in the sense that I felt a connection. I felt a connection with my Dad, with the staff at Walker’s Grille, with Arlo and the band, and with the audience (the majority of which have been loyal fans of the Guthrie family even before Woodstock). Feeling connected is the most awe-inspiring experience you could ever give to yourself; it is the best gift on Earth. 

Mama Dazz and I met up with an old friend of hers a few weeks later at Walker’s Grille for lunch. I had the same dish as before: trout en papillote. This is the only fish dish I’ve ever had that I can remember eating the entire thing, skin and all. Both times the fish was light and moist, flaky and melt-in-your-mouth delectable, and it is light enough to match whatever time of day you are craving it. I hope to recreate this dish in the summer, but to continue on with my story…

There was something about being in that audience and watching Arlo Guthrie play alongside his son, his grandson (named Krishna, which I adore), and his go-to drummer that had me stupefied and bewildered. Like Tori Amos, the Indigo Girls, and Neil Gaiman, this man told stories with his music. I went from one dreaming sequence to another at each song, my desire to tear up immediately replaced by my desire to laugh and kiss the stranger next to me like an old friend. I felt safe and loved while I listened on, my eyes growing heavy at the warmth of positive energy coming from the stage. Other artists inspired Arlo Guthrie, and it was his magical ability turning his father’s poetry and Steve Goodman’s song “City of New Orleans” into infamous works of art any generation could relate to.  

He sang of social injustice and protest. He talked about love, and the story of how he and his wife met. (They have been married since 1969, and I was inspired and humbled by their love story, which is still going strong.) He joked about Woodstock, about where his music has taken him, and he spoke like he’d known us all our lives.

The thing I loved about Arlo is that he legitimately loves people, no matter if he agrees with them or not. This man, who in my mind resembled both physical attributes of Mozart and Einstein, is that grandfather whose tales you hear at his knee, the man who has taken the little steps to making the world a better place, and the person who understands what it means to be a positive force in the world. He’s at peace with himself, because when you come right down to it, that’s all anyone has.

I’ve been at peace before, so I know what it feels like. But he embodies it, and then shares it with others.

The last song of the night was “My Peace”, a short poem his father Woody had written that Arlo turned into the most moving song I’ve had the pleasure to sing. It was the “Kumbaya” on a grander scale, and one that shook me to my core. The entire audience was swaying and singing along, smiles on everyone’s faces and tears of joy threatening to fall. It is the song I go to on an otherwise cloudy day, and I hope it brings a smile to your face like it has mine.

My Peace

Words by Woody Guthrie, Music by Arlo Guthrie

My peace my peace is all I’ve got that I can give to you
My peace is all I ever had that’s all I ever knew
I give my peace to green and black and red and white and blue
My peace my peace is all I’ve got that I can give to you

My peace, my peace is all I’ve got and all I've ever known
My peace is worth a thousand times more than anything I own
I pass my peace around and about ‘cross hands of every hue;
I guess my peace is justa ‘bout all I’ve got to give to you

This is the poem/song I go to when I'm feeling less than peaceful, and the recipe I'm about to give also provided a slice of peace in a pan.

Before that night, I’d never heard of Arlo or his father Woody. Before that night, I’d never heard of (let alone eaten at) Walker’s Grille, a place that is all about sustainable development and meeting the needs of the community and the individual diner.

So thanks, Daddy-O, for giving me that connection and a little bit of peace in an otherwise hectic post-graduate world.

Speaking of peace, I’ve noticed that I am at peace when I eat certain foods. My household was infamous for its one-pan-wonders. Layers of many flavors, textures, and colors were on each and every spoonful. It ranged from fish (tuna casserole) to beef (enchiladas) to chicken (lemon pepper chicken with mushrooms) to eggs (frittatas and quiches). One of my most favorite one-pan-wonders, however, was lacto-vegetarian, a deep-dish polenta casserole with a hearty helping of spaghetti sauce on top and (of course) smothered with cheese. It was one of those stick-to-your-ribs, only pretty in the pan type of concoctions, but it was delicious all the same. This dish doesn’t exactly resemble the polenta casserole of my childhood, but it’s easy to make, quick to bake, and the layering is optional. And if you have a lactose intolerant or a vegetarian who does not consume dairy or eggs in the household, add another vegetable, an extra helping of beans, or a non-dairy “cheese” substitute. 

Deep Dish Polenta Pie

510 g Precooked polenta, cut into small cubes
258 g (or 1 can) Black beans, drained
1 White onion, finely sliced into crescents
1 Green Bell pepper, quartered and coarsely chopped
822 g (or 2 cans) Diced tomatoes
1 Zucchini, sliced into thin circles*
112 g Parmesan cheese, finely grated
5 Garlic cloves, finely chopped
1/4 tsp. Powdered rosemary
1 tsp. Italian herb blend
Salt, to taste
Coconut oil, to grease the pan

Preheat the oven to 350ºF.
In a small bowl, thoroughly mix the cheese, garlic, and spices and set aside.
Put the cast iron pan over medium heat and grease the pan.
Put the ingredients, excluding the grated cheese, garlic, and spice combination, in descending order as listed into the pan (i.e., first the polenta cubes, then the beans, and so on) and cook for twenty-five to thirty minutes until the vegetables have softened.**
Evenly garnish the top with the cheese mixture and put it in the oven for fifteen minutes (or until the cheese is browned in some places and the garlic has caramelized).
Pull from the oven and garnish with additional cheese or guacamole.

Serves 3 – 4.

*I used the zucchini as a "crust" along the edges, but you can just put in top of the tomatoes if you'd like.
**As I mentioned before, you don’t have to layer this perfectly in order to get the dish to taste amazing. If you’d like, just add the ingredients in the way they are listed and mix to your desired preference.