On Life As A Picky Foodie

There are many ways to be picky; a distinction clearly made by this week’s guest writer.  Dan is the original picky eater in my family.  Ever since we were children, whereas I shovelled anything and everything down my throat – often to the detriment of my own health and wellbeing, because that was what good children did -- Dan was clear about what he would and wouldn’t put into his mouth.  What I find so admirable about his eating habits is that these days, he is not beyond trying new things.  So respect to my little brother for teaching me all those years ago that just because it’s on your plate doesn’t mean you have to eat it, no matter what anyone says. 

With love,
Gabriela

Hello. My name is Dan and I’m a picky eater. Unlike a picky foodie, a picky eater can in fact eat anything. Only, the picky eater would rather not have to.

I have been picky all my life and will probably remain picky forever. Odd-shaped fruits, exotic spices, pureed anything, raisins.

Like many children I was allergic to vegetables. I was at war with a food group and became an expert at covert operations. My speciality: extreme rendition. An empty juice carton might secretly transport a busload of Brussels sprouts on its way to the bin. A spoon, so innocent on a plate, could be hiding a mushroom. (Yes, mushrooms, I know.)

Later, perhaps unsurprisingly, this changed. Today I eat a variety of foods. Or rather, I am prepared to try new things. If they take my fancy, I might come back for seconds. But I might not. For being picky is not something you get rid of only by expanding your horizons. Just because I tried that Christmas pudding doesn’t mean I’ve converted.

You see, there is a science behind picky eating. A picky eater will go through several stages before that grub will pass their lips.

First: risk assessment – will that cauliflower kill me?

Secondly, what I call “the disclaimer” – accepting the possibility that what you are about to try might be horrible after all. Sometimes it’s not all in your head. (The disclaimer is with the food. You don’t owe it (or the chef) anything; you reserve the right not to finish what’s on your plate.)

And finally, the third and perhaps most important stage: “the contract”. Similar to the disclaimer, the contract is about the conversation you have with yourself about the meal in front of you. Different to the disclaimer though, the contract deals with the prospect of the picky eater actually enjoying what they assumed they wouldn’t.

Often, I find the hardest part about being a picky eater the moment you realise that what you’ve been avoiding for so long – because it once tasted disgusting or because it literally looks like shit – is in fact quite tasty.

Apart from having to acknowledge that you would have enjoyed all the previous moments of near misses – the picky “what-ifs” – there is the much deeper problem of having to incorporate new delicious fare into what is a carefully honed, almost mathematically precise picky eater menu.

Take the tomato for example. These fruits (!) were never much of a problem for me. In a salad, in a dish – I either didn’t notice them or I could just push them aside. Unless they’re on a pizza or in a sauce, they didn’t taste much like anything to me. Then one day I woke up and thought, you know what, to hell with tomatoes. In sandwiches especially, they just sit there, awkwardly sliced, flavourless, ready to burst and land on your shirt.

At the sandwich place near where I work I’m known as the “no tomato guy.” They’ve stopped asking, they just know. Until one day, when one of the specials included a slice of the bastards. I thought to myself, they know it’s me, so no point in saying anything. Yet when I looked at the tabletop behind the counter, there it was, sitting at the summit of my lunch, about to be covered by a bun.

Wait! I said. What, they said.  Tomato, I said, pointing. But it’s slow-roasted, they said. And they said it in an almost whiny, frustrated tone, like I was wasting their time. I wanted to say to them, it’s me, the no-tomato-guy, remember? But I could see in their eyes that it was different this time. Slow-roasted really meant something, and it was something I was going to have to try.

When I returned a couple of days later, they remarked that I was still alive. Humbled, I bowed my head a bit and told them what they wanted to hear. They knew that I wasn’t about to embark on some ridiculous Texas-portioned tomato-fest, but they also knew that the goal posts had shifted.

And that right there is the difficulty of the picky eater contract. The way you approach food – rehearsed and with precedent – can be changed. To do that can require a whole lot of nerve, if only because you have to convince the toughest judge of all: yourself.

Dear Friends;

Weight.

It’s not a four-letter word but it may as well be.

I know many a beautiful person who will take a dozen prescribed pills (and suffer the consequences) or ignore many health problems, who will suddenly change even their most deep-rooted habits because the number on the scale has gone up.  Somehow once weight becomes the focus, people suddenly spring into action.

When one of my best friends got married a few years ago, I stopped off to visit some people in Ireland on my way to the wedding.  And though it was only a week, apparently banoffee pie sticks to the ribs in a way that nothing else does – not even Jewish, Ashkenazi food!

By the time the wedding rolled around (or should I say, I rolled into the wedding), I had gained ten pounds!  When I saw the photographs, I was shocked at my appearance.  I had felt so wonderful -- and I was, in fact, glowing with happiness – but I also looked bloated and the extra weight was quite unbecoming.

Cut to a few years later.  I was living in Los Angeles and weighed 35 pounds less than I did after the famous banoffee-fuelled week.  And yet, no matter how much people told me I was too skinny, when I looked in the mirror, all I saw were the imperfections of my body, the bits that fell over my jeans that, at that time, were a full four sizes smaller than I had fit in for most of my adult life.

Though my hip-bones jutted out, I complained about my belly.  I felt guilty about every bite I put into my body, and then worked out for hours on end to make up for it.  Somehow, it seemed, the more weight I lost, the more insecure I became.

Had the banoffee pie clouded my judgment, or was it the fun and joy of watching my good friend get married that had made the number on the scale irrelevant?

Personally I have found that joy is the best antidote to unwanted pounds.  Not necessarily because they “melt away” – although that too has been known to happen on occasion – but because life is about so much more.  Why let that little number between our feet dictate whether it will be a good day or a bad one, whether we will enjoy food or not, and how we will feel about the other parts of our lives?

I would like to know: what would we obsess about if we weren’t obsessing about weight?  What about obsessing about how happy we want to be, how fulfilling our jobs could be, how loving our entourage is instead?

After all, Life can weigh as heavily as any bloody steak in our bellies. 

With love,
Gabriela

Andrea Nichols is a vegan Superhero. No, really.  Being a Brazilian vegan might seem like a contradiction in terms, but Andrea makes it look easy – a skill that has earned her hundreds of followers on her two Portuguese-language blogs, Brazil nut and Animalista.

This woman loves great food – in fact she is one of my favorite people to break (dairy-, yeast-, gluten-free) bread with.  I truly believe that if more of us felt about food like she does, there would be many many more vegans in this world!  With Andrea, every meal is a cause for celebration – and the added bonus is that no animals are ever killed for her dinner.

However, you won’t hear much preaching from her – only an honest and well-researched opinion: Andrea has always maintained that “we all do what we can.”  And as a result, I find myself constantly asking how can I do more?

One great way to start is by educating ourselves.  For example, what are the ways in which we can incorporate iron-rich foods into our diets without resorting to eating red meat?

With love,
Gabriela

On Iron

Every once in a while, when people google Iron + Veg, they end up on my blog. In my opinion that’s a good thing because the more people think and learn about food, the better the chances that they are going make healthy choices.

Well, I’m hopeful anyway.

Iron is indispensable for the production of hemoglobin, which transports oxygen from the lungs to the rest of our bodies. It is also responsible for our energy and resistance levels.  Lack or shortage of iron in our system is commonly known as anemia.

Good sources of iron include: dark leafy green (watercress, escarole, kale, beet leaves and parsley to name a few), nuts and seeds (pistachios, almonds, walnuts, cashews, sesame and sunflower seeds), whole grains, dried fruit, broccoli, peas, beans, blackstrap molasses, seaweed, figs, artichokes, asparagus, oats, bananas, carrots, limes, dates, strawberries, cherries, grapes, string beans, kiwis, lentils, peaches, pears, apples, bee pollen, prunes, radishes, as well as iron-enriched enriched pastas and breakfast cereals...

So you see, there is no shortage there.

Today we know that iron deficiency is not a bigger problem for vegetarians or vegans than it is for the rest of the population. However, it’s still a common concern and a recurring question I hear from omnivores who are considering switching to a veggie diet.

When we consume animal products, our bodies absorb between 15 and 30% of the bio-available iron. From vegetable sources, iron-absorption works differently – and at a ratio of between 2 and 20%. What makes a difference depends in part on the presence of other types of foods within that same meal and it’s important to be aware of how the combination of ingredients affects our absorption capabilities.  For example, the presence of Vitamin C can help, as can the use of cast-Iron cookware.

On the other hand, certain ingredients can interfere with or even inhibit the absorption of iron. The most common culprits are red wine, green tea, coffee and soy products. Whether you are a vegan or an omnivore (or anything in between), in order to maximize your body’s ability to absorb iron, the best thing to do is avoid consuming these foods at the same time as iron-rich ones.

In case you’re worried about whether you are getting enough iron, look out for common symptoms of iron deficiency like weakness, and lack of energy, pale skin, low blood pressure, headaches, insomnia, and depression.

However, if you’re thinking of taking iron supplements, do keep in mind, that unlike vitamin B12, which, if taken in excess, does not affect us (our body actually recycles it), too much iron can be extremely dangerous.  PLEASE DO NOT TAKE ANY SUPPLEMENTS WITHOUT CHECKING WITH YOUR HEALTH PROFESSIONAL FIRST -- sorry for screaming, but I really needed your full attention here. J

Dear Friends;

I say best to keep ‘em guessing!

Why stick to the tried and true when you can branch out and experiment?

Next time you’re out of that one ingredient you’re needing for a dish, throw something else in instead. Who knows what wonderful, crazy, unexpected result you’ll come up with...

We ran out of hummus last week.  More importantly, we ran out of chickpeas.  But rather than panic and send my poor husband out on an immediate emergency mission, I decided to replace them with adzuki beans.

The rest of the ingredients remained the same and so adzuki bean hummus happened – a “hummus” that was, as they say in Thailand, same, same but different.

As always, I believe the quality of the fresh, whole ingredients is what can make or break a dish – much more so, in fact, than sticking to an exact recipe.  For example, I try to use tahini made from unhulled seeds, and unbleached sea salt rather than denuded table salt.  It doesn’t just make affect the way the food tastes, it also provides a boat-load more nutrition.

I’m actually preferring my tried-and-true hummus with the adzuki beans these days – it makes for a welcome change.

Quick and Easy Adzuki Bean Hummus

1 450 gr. can adzuki beans (no salt added)
3 T fresh lemon juice
2 T whole tahini
1 clove fresh garlic
1 Lg handful fresh parsley
2 T olive oil
½ t ground cumin powder
½ t coarse sea salt

Process in the food processor until smooth.  Stop and scrape the sides down from time to time.  Taste and adjust seasoning.

Nutrition:

Adzuki beans (also spelled azuki or aduki) are common in East Asian cuisine where they are often used in sweets.  In comparison to other beans, adzukis have a relatively high protein and a low fat content.  Like all beans, their high fibre content helps keep the bowels regular and some believe that they can help lower the risk of cancer.  Adzuki beans are packed with iron, B vitamins and folate.  They are used in Chinese medicine for reproductive, kidney and bladder problems.

David Wolstencroft is a fabulously talented writer/producer in the entertainment industry.  He has created popular television shows, dramatic movies and suspenseful novels – but then again I’m extremely biased.  He is also my husband.  David has been my partner in this journey to health since we met six years ago, and he continues to offer support and encouragement in every way imaginable – from tasting each one of my culinary creations, to reading my posts and newsletters, from taking me to the airport when I embarked on my studies on a different continent, to making me buckets of yellow split pea soup when it was the only thing I could stomach in month three of my pregnancy.  However, as you will read below, I am not alone in occupying his heart.  It’s part of what he believes allows him to access inspiration.  And although I have, at times, felt challenged by this, I also know that health comes in many shapes and sizes -- pleasure being a vital, yet often overlooked, component of how we feel.

With love,
Gabriela 

AN ODE TO PUDDLE WATER

“Coffee leads men to trifle away their time, scald their chops, and spend their money, all for a little base, black, thick, nasty, bitter, stinking nauseous puddle water.”

-The Women's Petition Against Coffee, 1674

--

I am a very lucky man.  My wife, Gabriela, whom you may know as the Picky Foodie, is not only a wise and talented woman, she is also remarkably understanding about my other committed relationship.

A life-long affair, in fact -- with a black, steaming liquid as old as the Ethiopian hills.

There’s a timeless alchemy that happens when filtered hot water is forced at pressure through a layer of finely ground coffee beans.  The aromatic oils retained deep inside the roasted berry are liberated by the heat and release themselves into the suspension, morphing it into a measure of potent amber sweetness that baristas call “liquid honey”.  But that moment of perfection is all too fragile.  A lack of H20 and there’s an unappealing punch, a bitter kick to the gut.  Too much, and that espresso sunshine will cloud over into a thin, over-caffeinated dreck -- “stinking nauseous puddle water” indeed.

You might have guessed by now – I like my coffee.

Nearly a year ago, I stopped drinking alcohol – not forever, but for the foreseeable future.  Most of my adult life, I never considered that such a change was even possible: you see, both my social life and my professional world have often been lubricated with the stuff.  But since I’ve made that change, hand on heart, I’ve rarely given it a second thought – even down the pub with friends, it’s not as hard as I thought it would be.  In the end, it just didn’t matter to me all that much.

For a while, I thought the same kind of adjustment would be possible with my daily java.

On paper, there was hope.  I have always known that my daily coffee consumption is not a healthy part of this, or any other, nutritious breakfast. I know the stuff plays my adrenal glands like an electric guitar; that yes, it scratches away at my long term energy levels, depletes the minerals in my body and okay, fine, I know, the downer will come, always, relentlessly, eventually, and crouch over me like a cold grey day. There are some mornings when I will look at my wife and she will just know that our conversation needs a pause – at least until I’ve had a tactical cup.

Sure, there are some studies that highlight the benefits to the liver, but most experts agree -- a body without a daily espresso is on the whole a better nourished, more serene place.  For me personally, however, it’s also a lonely and miserable life.  A bit like living in Switzerland.

Try as I might, there is no way to break my dependence on coffee.  Even when I’ve experienced enforced cold turkey, such as during a bad cold, when the physical need for caffeine has dissipated -- still I find myself reaching for it as soon as I feel better.  (In fact I’m starting to realise that part of the reason I feel so rotten when I get ill is that I’m also simultaneously going through coffee withdrawal… those headaches suddenly make more sense…)

Once, in desperation, I even tried herbal “coffees” – lovingly marketed infusions with exotic flavours and ancient herbs -- some of which weren’t half bad.  They looked like coffee.  They smelled – coffeeish.  They tasted like a blurry fax.  Drinking those things was like pining for a vintage single malt and drinking bourbon-flavoured seltzer.

Coffee, I have come to realise, is more than just a part of my diet.  It is part of my soul.  A perfectly drawn double espresso with a modicum of milk to cut through the lower tones of bitterness, though not enough to dilute the strong robusta force of the caffeine – it has the feeling of home, of security.  It’s been my professional companion for over two decades.  It’s been my collaborator and even my muse.  My morning coffee rings a Pavlovian bell deep inside my subconscious that lets the body know that it’s time for inspiration -- time for work.

Thus, knowing me, and knowing the impossibility of removing coffee from my life, my wife one day suggested something new:

I should continue drinking the stuff, she said,  enjoy it.  But, she offered –do it mindfully, consciously integrate it into my life?  By way of balance, she suggested, why not add a peppermint tea or a glass of water for every cup of coffee I downed?

This sounded very attractive to me, mostly because it involved no change to my coffee intake.  Yet, almost immediately, something changed.

Not only did I feel better -- less strung out when the espresso hit, less of the Cowshed Breath in the late afternoons – the coffee itself tasted better.

Far from being something that takes me away from my joy, I am now beginning to value and respect every cup I drink far more than I ever have.  By taking care of the consequences, and adding an extra level of hydration, my coffee consumption has decreased; my enjoyment has multiplied.  Less really is more.

My wife even bought me a barista course for my birthday. (I told you I was lucky.)

Perhaps there’s a larger lesson here.  Perhaps there isn’t.  In any case, it’s my opinion that we could all benefit from seeing the things we love and feel we cannot do without in their full context; by honouring and embracing them, rather than simply depending on them – no matter how often we have them, or how addictive they are.