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Feed your soul   Nourish your body   Tantalize your taste buds   Blow your mind   Let your imagination go

This exquisite photograph took up the greater part of the first page in yesterday’s dining section of the New York Times.  I am memorized by the composition and eye popping color.  I would rather frame it than eat it.  The photo is accompanied by a great list, 101 foods to grill, written by Mark Bittman.  Mr. Bittman is renowned for his minimalist and healthful approach to life.

I have a husband who doesn’t grill.  How that happened I don’t know.  I grill on a gas grill on my cook-top in the kitchen.  I am so inspired by these endless grilling possibilities I am going to master the outdoor grill.  On occasion it feels great to wear the pants in the family!

The article and list can be found here:

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/30/dining/30mini.html?ref=todayspaper

Indulging in what is often thought of as comfort food feels like the antithesis of what I have learned over the past two years on my path recovering from disordered eating.  The thought of comforting myself with food just does not fit anymore, but then it never did fit because I didn’t know that was what I was doing!  If someone had told me, you are eating for emotional reasons, I would have said, no, I’m not.  I eat because I am hungry, I have a big appetite, I love all kinds of food, I love to cook and it tastes good.  I did not know I was eating because something inside of me hurt so bad I grabbed food and it became my band-aid.

So what do I do now?  The band-aid is gone, but sometimes life hurts.  I have learned to comfort myself in many lovely and constructive ways.  Creating something or getting outside to let the world in are my current favorites.

Growing up in a household where eating to live was the motto has many disadvantages.  It also has a big advantage:   I have absolutely no cravings for, desire to recreate or fond memories of the food my mother cooked for us.  I have no desire to broil chicken until it is black and crisp, serve liver and onions ever, pork chops are iffy and I have a love-hate relationship with grapefruit and Lima beans.  There was no mac and cheese, rice pudding, mashed potatoes and gravy, chocolate milk, fluffernutters or chicken soup.  You would think there would be something, but there is not.  I am grateful for this, I do not crave any of the food some define as comfort foods.   My mother set a lovely table every night, we ate together as a family and talked about our day.  What sounds idyllic was not.  For me, mealtime missed the feeling of comfort.  I was uncomfortable eating what my mother prepared because all eyes were on me.  I was the chubby one and it was made clear to me the food on my plate was to nourish my body, not feed my soul.  She never changed her ways, never realized the “weight problem” I developed was in part created at her table.

We all have days when there isn’t enough comfort to be had and on top of everything else, it’s dinner time.  I might choose to go out for dinner.  Out of the house, with lively energy and people around me unwinding from their day, helps.  Other times I wold rather not be around a lot of people, I find comfort in the familiar, the small rituals of setting the table, chopping and sauteing; creating.

My criteria for comfort food is simple:  Fresh, healthy, easily prepared and quick to cook.  Appealing to look at, yummy smelling, baked in the oven, and most of all, leaving me feeling comfortable at the end of the meal.

A Frittata was just the thing last night.  Two small pans went on the burners with a little butter and olive oil in each.  I whisked 4 eggs and 2 egg whites with 1/2 cup of milk and a few snips of chives.  Half of the egg mixture got poured into the pans with the heat on low.  After the egg began to set I added the layers.  This is the fun part because you can really put in anything you want and mine were all leftovers!  I had thin slices of browned red potato, a sprinkling of raw onion, raw grated zucchini, crumbled goat cheese, sauteed mushrooms, a few pieces of crisp crumbled bacon and tomato slices.  After the Frittata had been on the burner for about 6 minutes I poured the remaining egg mixture over the top and popped it in the oven at 350 degrees for about 20 minutes.  One Frittata was ample for my husband and I to share, served with rye toast and fresh strawberries.  An added bonus is the one left, lurking in my refrigerator, an instant meal over the weekend.

Is it taboo to call any food comfort food?  Would thinking of food in any way as comforting be the first step on a slippery slope backwards?  What is your solution when out of sorts and done in when dinner time arrives?

• I am a stickler at dinner.  Ask my kids, there are rules and they are to be followed:
• No one dare to eat even a crumb until the Mother/Hostess is seated.
• Napkin in lap.
• No talking or sipping with food in mouth.
• Platters are taken and passed even if you do not care for any.
• Pleases and thank-yous abound.
• Everyone engages in conversation.
• Lips are firmly sealed while chewing.
• One hand in lap.
• NO boarding arm reach.  (your tongue is longer than your arm!)
• When someone “under-age” is finished, they must ask, “May I please be excused”.

It is hard knock life around here.  These are some of the things we do, day in and day out as favors to our children.  So when they leave home they can dine confidently and I can breathe a sigh of relief.  Mine are grown and gone, but fortunately they come back, full of life and love and eventually, with children of their own.

I am learning things are entirely different with grandchildren.  For one thing, I am a lot older and no longer have the stamina to insist.  Secondly, I can leave all “that” to their parents, and just go for the fun.  Bend the rules, even at the dinner table.

So here we have Lily, not at her own place set with the tiny fork that was her father’s, but sharing Elizabeth’s seat, and diving into Elizabeth’s plate.  I had been informed that Lily thinks fish is yucky.  So I bent the rules and fixed her plate with brochelli, corn and turkey instead of yummy red snapper.  Lo and behold!!!  “I love this chicken,” says Lily, chowing down on Elizabeth’s snapper!  No way were we going to do anything but let her continue.  We fixed another plate for Elizabeth and they continued to share the chair and giggle.  Lily can really put away the broccoli, and prefers lemon to butter on her corn.  Really she like squeezing the lemon.  Strawberries, blueberries and watermelon tickled her fancy, but “eeuw, I do not like bread”.   So, she didn’t say, “No I do not care for any bread, thank you.”  So, she got up from the table before we were done and wanted to watch a Disney movie.    So, she made it through a meal without a napkin.   So what?

And when she said to me, “Grandma, how many bites more do I have to eat?”  I asked her to show me with her finger on her belly how full she was.  Her finger landed at about 2 inched above her belly button.  I told her, no more bites at all, if you are full and your tummy is telling you to stop now, we will listen to it, because it is you who knows when to stop eating.

Finally when it was movie time she never gave popcorn a thought.  She wanted an orange.  “Peeled and sliced, not cut up.”  I believe if left to their own devices with healthy options, children will eat healthily.  Perhaps not all in one day, but on an average.  That said,  I watched an inordinate amount of rainbow sugar being stirred into someones teensy teacup this morning.  You gotta love a woman who knows her mind.

I got up early Sunday morning to drive from Annapolis to Philadelphia to spend Mother’s Day with my daughter and her fiance. I was excited to have a new outfit to wear and a necklace I had created out of a strand of “pearls” and some old Laurel Racetrack Jockey charms I had found in a junk shop.  It was a pleasure to get dressed.  I slipped on some new bought for self Mother’s Day lingerie, a new short straight khaki skirt and a white blouse.  I threaded a bright scarf though the belt loops of the skirt, skipped anything remotely resembling pantyhose or a slip.  Next came the jingly necklace, and finally, what got dubbed later in the day as, my Prom shoes.    And off I went knowing there would be a lot of love and a beautiful brunch waiting for me.

The daughter, who I so want to be a healthy role model for was elated to see me.  She loved my outfit and at one point I saw her gently jabbing her intended with her elbow and pointing to me feet.  My daughter has not seen me in high heels for 20 years except briefly at her brother’s wedding last spring.  She has never seen me in such a short straight skirt nor carrying myself with such confident pride.

Overweight people do not slip into anything.  They pull, they tug, they re-adjust, and then they hope no one will notice anyway.  I lived that life, and I will never live it again.  Over many years  I gained, I lost, I gained, I lost.  In the end, the greatest loss was myself.  My pride, my femininity, my joy, my confidence, my wit, and almost my passion.  For sure, I believed even my passion was gone, but Rebecca recognized it the first time we met.  Over the past two years she has patiently unearthed me, and guided me in the tiniest baby steps to know that each and every facet of my being is worthy of love and recognition.  We are not quite done, I can not repair so many years of damage in just two years, so I know there is even more goodness to come, not the least of which will be shoe shopping!  Having been at one of my highest weights during high school I never went to a prom.  You can not imagine the giddy feeling I got, while clipping along in my blue shoes being called “Prom Queen”.

Sharp pencils make me feel good.  They might even make me feel smarter while using them.  For sure, knowing I have a potful makes me feel smug.  So finally, today, I took every worn down pencil from my desk to the basement where the old manual pencil sharpener lives.  It was way more pencils than I have the time or patience to sharpen at once.  So I cut myself a deal, each and every time I passed the sharpener, I would sharpen five pencils.  Somethings are more palatable in increments.  As I moved clothes from the washer to the dryer I sharpened.  As I went looking for the right cake pan for the job, I sharpened.  Eventually all the pencils had pristine sharp points and I had a sweet sense of satisfaction.  Every time I look at them I am pleased, and every time I go to use one, well, color me happy!

In other self care news, my walk this morning was positively fruitful.  I woke at 6 a.m., rather hungry, thank you very much.  I threw on some suitable walking clothes and headed out after a cup of coffee and toast with almond butter.  The morning was miraculous.  So much is blooming, the river near my house was as still as if it were frozen.  I had a lot on my mind but kept reminding myself to remain in the present so as not to “miss” my walk.

I presume many of us who have come to Rebecca Bitzer MS, RD & Associates have been given a sheet of paper titled  90 Ideas for Self-Nurturing Activities.  This list is a treasure.  While at first it puzzled me,  I bonded with it and find I still love to use it. My copy is a little dog eared and scribbled on.  Straight lines denote things I thought possible from the git go.  There are question marks next to ideas I just plain did not “get”, tiny hearts by ideas I use and love, and goofy smiley faces next to things I am particularly pleased and proud for trying.  (Horseback riding for one!)  One and only sad face, next to “pet, play with an animal”, I must have put that there right after our dog died. My list tells a story, a very good story.

When I wake in the morning I try to remember to give myself a minute to think these two thoughts, how can I make this day the best day possible, and, I wonder what wonderful thing is going to happen today.  The former requires a little planning, and the latter, just being open and aware.

Yesterday morning two things came to mind for upping my odds of having a great day.  I would finally reorganize my studio while baking not one, not two, but three kinds of bread.  By the end of the day, I had 7 glorious loaves of bread.  What was flour and yeast in my cupboard became bread.  Baking bread is about the most self-nurturing activity I can think of.  Making something that feels good to knead, smells good while baking and tastes good to eat is very nourishing.

The studio, has not gone so well.  I feel great for having started this project, but once I started juggling all those batches of bread rising, something had to give.  I got a shelf reorganized, and in the process knocked over a tower of sequins, spangles and trims.  The good news is I can just walk away from the mess, and I did.  It was too pretty of an evening to spend picking sequins out of the rug!

Out into the evening I went, for an end of day walk. A few houses down, new neighbors came out of their house.  I stopped and complimented them on their garden work.  I quickly extended my hand, with a “Hi, my name is Kathe Kramer, I live 3 houses down.”  We chatted a minute and I went on my way.  Rounding the last corner  home I spotted a neighbor I don’t see often walking her very decrepit dog.  I quickly caught up with her and was able to visit with her while petting her old dog.  Neither of those incidences sound too remarkable.  But they were my something wonderful.  They were wonderful because with the help of Rebecca, I have conquered many fears and accompanying unhealthy “remedies”.   I no longer look down when I walk, hoping to be invisible, I walk proudly, ready to shake hands.

I miss the exercise challenge of March.  I wonder how everyone is doing hoping everyone is getting outside on days like today.  In spite of waking to such a beautiful day I felt out of sorts. 

I ate properly,  had slept well, but my body felt tired and my spirits sad.

There was plenty to keep me busy, projects galore, cooking, illustrating, all things I love. I dragged myself from one thing to another wondering what was missing, where was my enthusiasm?

At  2 p.m.I put my camera in my back pocket and headed outside, climbed on my bike and rode for an hour.

Pedaling, coasting, enjoying the breeze and the sun.  Past the lilacs, the wisteria, the lilies of the valley and the very first rose.  Stopping, enjoying their fragrance, the fresh air, taking photographs and noticing all the beauty. It was a miracle cure.  When I got home, my concerns had dwindled, my energy burst forth and in two hours I was more productive than I had been all day.

The warm days of last week jump started my thinking about cold suppers.  That got me researching the difference between dinner and supper, and I got thoroughly confused.  To me, the meal I serve in the evening is dinner, that is, unless it is quite early, say 5:30, or cold, then it is supper.  The research I did confirmed, supper is a lighter meal in the evening, harking back to when dinner was often served in the middle of the day.  A “cold dinner” just doesn’t sound right to me, where “a cold supper” has a pleasant  old fashioned ring to it.  I grew up living on the same property as my grandparents, they had their “big meal at noon” and supper in the evening. I am sure my thoughts on all of this were determined quite young while I watched (from afar) and was quite mystified why I never saw them eat lunch but did see them eat cottage cheese, fruit and dark bread while the rest of the world was having meat, potatoes and salad!

This salad serves 4 and calls for 1 pound of fresh tuna fillet to be divided. …read more on A warm evening, a cold supper: Grilled Tuna Tropical Salad

Crisp, cool and breezy at the the Riva Road farmer’s market in Annapolis this morning.  A few more farmers this week, two more of my favorites, a man who only sells savory jellies and the little Greek ladies who usually bake and have beautiful flowers.  New papa, Chris, had already sold the bread he was able to make this week by the time I got there at 8:30!  He consoled me, that her really didn’t get to bake much this week, and so innocently explained new baby took precedence this week.  I empathized while making a note to self, get up earlier next week so you can get some bread, it may be a while before Chris and Lucy are up to full production. …read more on Annapolis Farmer’s Market Bounty

Yesterday, most of these Magnolia petals were blossoms in the tree.  Today, they were a soft pink beckoning carpet.  In the middle of a busy Wednesday my husband and I took 30 minutes and a  hastily prepared “picnic” in the backyard.

The sunlight was dappled, the petals, soft like kid gloves with a faint sweet fragrance.  The red and white horse blanket, nearly 40 years old, nostalgically comforting.  The food, while good and nutritious, is not going to stay long in my memory.  The day, the company, the spontaneity, nourishment of all kinds, make the memories, and sweet ones at that.