On Life As A Picky Foodie

Have you noticed that when you feel like crap, it’s sometimes easier to keep falling down that rabbit hole rather than picking yourself up and going in the direction of feeling better?

As the Holidays strike, I’m flabbergasted at how different this time of year is in New York from London.  First of all, only one – yes one – person has told me about being hungover this entire month!  This is quite a change from last year’s December, which I affectionately dubbed National Hangover Month in the UK. 

Then there is the shopping/gift giving extravaganza which, while manic in both places, seems just ever so slightly more absolutely over-the-top insane in the US. 

No matter where you are, however, ‘tis unavoidably the season to reflect on the year that’s past and project onto what’s to come.

Which brings me to this: today sucked.  It did.  Not a little bit, not could have been better.  No.  Today was just crap.  It happens.  And the trick, I find, is to hall my buttocks out of it as quickly as I can.

What does this have to do with the Holiday Season?  Well, in my experience, people complain about how much they eat, how little they move, how irritating family is over the holidays.  And they vow to change everything from their fitness level to their marital status to the circumference of their waist in the coming year. 

By the time January rolls around the salespeople at your local friendly gym are ready to embrace you with open arms.  And for a few weeks, everyone’s resolutions are steadfast.  We eat only greens and (for non-vegans) poach our eggs instead of frying them.  We head to the treadmill with religious zeal.  And we make up with everyone we hated just two weeks before.  Why not, right?  It’s a new year after all!

Then February hits… And come March, we’re back where we started only without a big milestone like New Year to declare the first day of the rest of our lives.

Today was a bad day.  If tomorrow is one too, chances are the next day will be more challenging than if tomorrow is better.  So how to stop this from spiralling further downwards?

Start by taking stock, face what sucks: the pain, the fear, the sadness, the crap.  Try to take just a few minutes to look back and realize what went wrong, what felt wrong, and how wrong wrong actually was.

Then try to forget about it, go do something you love – recharge those batteries.  For me, this is writing.  I sit at the computer and… well, I could write a blog post, for example.  Or email someone I love.  Take a bath, sip something soothing, go for a walk. 

Take a moment to set an intention for the next day.  This could be esoteric and vague or super concrete: you can simply hope for laughter or you can plan hour-by-hour – whatever works for you and in your circumstances.  For example, tomorrow, I’m planning to enjoy a long bike ride.  The thought of breathing in all that fresh air and cycling over the Brooklyn Bridge is already lifting my spirits. 

Lastly, try not to take it out on the people closest to you.  For me, this is DW.  DW who came home early to help, DW who is doing the dishes as I type, DW who wants, more than anything, for me to be happy.  Never forget, the people who love you are on your team, they’re on your side.

So as the Holidays approach and the family closes in, or the loneliness stings a little more, how about taking a moment to plan how NOT to fall off the wagon by starting to treat yourself well NOW? 

And with that in mind, here’s some seasonal green smoothie greatness to savour and enjoy. 

Cranberry Parsley Green Smoothie

1 cup fresh or frozen cranberries

1 banana

1 cup apple juice

½ bunch or a handful of parsley

1 t pumpkin pie spice

1 date

3 t freshly squeezed lemon juice

Start by blending the first three ingredients until smooth.  Then add the rest and blend, once again, until smooth.

To your health!

This is my baby girl just a couple of weeks ago: peaceful, at home in London, oblivious to the changes about to take place.  Although we made a book to explain that we were going to be moving, that we were leaving London for New York, I was well aware that it really was more for us grownups than for the sixteen-month old toddler who pointed out the big red busses and the airplanes in the photographs much in the same was she did in the street.

But the Grand Bus Rouge was replaced by the Grand Bus Jaune and I don’t know whether she expected everything to be so different.  I am familiar with New York, I knew what was coming, and the changes are still intense.  DW has been commenting about how different I am in the city.  Calmed somehow, he says, more at ease.  And bizarrely, I feel just as much at home here now, at age thirty-five, than I did the very first time I landed at JFK, over twenty years ago. 

We said goodbye to London in the best way we knew how: we walked through Hampstead Heath and to the Marylebone Farmer’s market.  We smelled the cheese at The Fromagerie one last time, we stopped by our favourite neighborhood café to swap general complaints.  There were people to take leave of and traditions to enjoy. 

But really, it’s the little things that make a place feel like home.  And wandering the streets of New York City, it becomes clearer with every step that London doesn’t feel mine – never has.  I loved it like a tourist on an extended stay, but I have missed the crazy fucking place that is New York.

When we were drowning in boxes, I couldn’t quite get past the questions of what we should keep, what we should sell, what should come on the plane with us, what we should leave behind.  It felt like an interminable list, constantly circling around in my head, piercing my brain like ice picks in the middle of the night.  What about the high chair?  What about the sofa bed?  What about the …?

October fourth, the day of departure, came way too quickly.  In about five seconds and after a hundred years.  I wasn’t ready.  I had never been more ready.  The taxi arrived to take us to Heathrow at 10:15 sharp.  We loaded our eight bags, the stroller, the car seat, the foldable cot – travelling light wasn’t an option this time.

The moment of realization had come earlier, as DW and I walked up the street to say goodbye to our friends at The Kitchen Table, where we spent gazillions of hours over the years.  On our way up the road, we had held hands, feeling each step in silence, knowing that we would not be making this silly little walk, which we had so taken for granted, again.  They had greeted us as they have every day for the past four years.  And we had said goodbye much in the same way we had so many times before.  DW and I laughed as we crossed the street and headed back home.  It all felt so… normal.

An hour later, the tears flowed. 

Saying goodbye is tough.  Because even if you return to the same places and see the same people, nothing will ever be the same. 

Someone else will be living in our house.  Another family will inhabit the walls where my baby girl came into the world.  They will cook on the incredible range, and take that same wander up the block to order sandwiches and fantastic coffee at The Kitchen Table.  They will live fifteen minutes from Hampstead Heath while we …

We are heading into this new chapter in our lives.  One in which nothing is clear or determined yet.  In the past few weeks, we have been in turn excited and terrified, elated and suspicious, relieved and regretful, sad and joyful and everything in between. 

As the taxi pulled out, a weight lifted off my shoulders.  I could do nothing more, even if I had wanted to.  What was packed would be packed, what was being shipped we would see again in a few weeks, what would be would be.  And if I wanted to avoid motion sickness, I needed to keep looking forward.

I don’t know if I actually laughed out loud, but I felt like doing so.  To go from being worried about what box contained my fermentation pot to not caring in the space of half a millisecond knocked me off balance enough that I was grateful to be sitting down.  The only thing that mattered wasn’t whether we should or shouldn’t take the furniture, or how many tea bags I should take on the flight – it was the two people sitting on either side of me, my husband and my daughter. 

And then, just like that, we find ourselves wandering the streets of New York slightly in awe, but also bizarrely at home already -- we know where we like to eat, where we like to shop for groceries, who we need to call, what we need to see, do, explore, experience.  Only unlike in the past, there's a little person involved and at the same time everything is new.  

Vida Lev is now toddling along, which means she has little time to be in her carrier or her stroller.  So we let her wander the streets of Manhattan and Brooklyn to her heart’s desire.  She waddles, holding her arms up on each side of her to keep her balance.  And then every so often, she squats down in a kind of downward dog to recalibrate before taking off again.  This child fits right in here: already she is in a hurry.  People wave, people smile, people ask whether her boots come in adult sizes.  If you think New Yorkers are rude or unfriendly, you should set a beaming toddler loose in the streets: never have I seen such love, enjoyment and pleasure in people’s faces as in the past few days with my little girl. 

On a final note, I will say this: we have gone from a four-bedroom house in London to who knows what in New York (though I know for a fact that whatever we find will be smaller than what we were in).  The stress, which was can I keep this?,  has now become why in the world did I hold on to that?

Life.  The jokes never stop coming.

Recipe: Breakfast for Globetrotting Parents 

When you're moving continents and running after a very energetic little girl, breakfast needs to power you through until God knows when.  This one might seem complicated and filled with scary, unknown ingredients, but people often ask me what I eat so I decided to share this latest favourite which has kept me sated, grounded and happy for many a challenging morning recently.  I won't lie, this is one greeeeen smoothie but it's choc-full of good fats, minerals, protein and awesome quality slow-burning fuel.  Plus, in my opinion, it's delicious though I am aware that my palate is greeeeener than most people's so consider yourself warned.  The great news is that all you have to do is blend so it's super simple to make.  And if you let the mixture sit for a few minutes, it will thicken up into a pudding.  I like to top mine with juicy berries and crunchy cacao nibs for something to chew on, and eat it with a big old spoon.

Ingredients:

1 T coconut butter

1 T hemp seeds

2 T chia seeds

1 t spirulina

1 t chlorella

1/8 t kelp powder

1 t cinnamon

1 t vanilla powder

1 dropper Oceans Alive

1 banana

3/4 c raspberries

1 dried fig

4-5 kale leaves, stalks removed

1 cup water

For the topping (optional): 

small handful fresh blueberries

a sprinkle of cacao nibs

Instructions:

Combine all the ingredients in the blender.  

Blend well -- you might need to add a little more water, depending on the strength of your machine.  

Allow to thicken for a few minutes.  

Top with blueberries and cacao nibs (optional). 

P.S.  Happy Birthday to ME!

Somewhere along the way, I lost my sense of direction.  The map I had drawn got washed along with my favourite flea market jeans.  I was sixteen and couldn’t remember where I was supposed to turn to get where I wanted to go.

The first time I revealed to someone I loved and trusted that I wanted to be a writer, I took what was, for me, a huge leap of faith.  It was a deep and scary revelation that took all of my courage.  Their response broke my heart:

“Why would you want to do that?” they said with a chuckle that felt like a smack across my cheek, “you can’t make a living at it, and besides, who would be interested in anything YOU have to say?”

Though I am no longer in contact with this person, their words shut me down for years.  Unable to get past the question about who my audience would be, I froze – I didn’t have the answer and couldn’t muster the guts to find out.  Because what if they were right and nobody read my words?  I couldn’t bear the thought of pouring my soul onto the page and having it be rejected.  

Though I was able to get that person out of my life, their words continued to haunt me.  To this day, when I’m struggling with my writing, I can hear that familiar voice telling me I’m not good enough.  With time, I have learned to recognize it for what it is.  And now, after years of hiding and procrastinating, I have finally decided to take that leap once more. 

The kitchen is my sanctuary.  It’s where I go when I’m sad or angry or frustrated.  It’s my safe place.  Somehow, I seem to have more courage in the kitchen.  Because here’s the thing: I am a terrible baker.  My cakes, gluten-free and vegan, come out crumbly or hard, too gummy or not sweet enough.  Sometimes – believe it or not – my cakes come out all of the above, and it takes a certain talent to make a cake that is both crumbly and gummy!

I guess with cake as with fiction, it’s about accepting that your first draft will probably be terrible.  In fact, it’s supposed to be terrible.  Not that that’s easy to admit to yourself or pleasant to hear or acknowledge.  But only by doing something over and over, by ripping it to shreds and really analysing what needs to be improved can you get good.  Like writing.  Or baking.

Recently I have been spending a lot of time on Jennifer Perillo’s blog.  When I saw this cake, although, as I say, my baking leaves a lot to be desired, I decided I had to attempt it -- Picky Foodie style of course.

The result? 

I’m pretty sure I will bake better cakes in the future.  But I’ve definitely done worse.  It wasn’t too gummy or too crumbly and it wasn’t too hard.  Amazingly, it stayed together quite well in that you can pick up a piece and comfortably take a bite without losing half of it along the way.  It could possibly have been a little sweeter -- the kind of cake you could have for breakfast or for dessert -- and I suspect it will complement DW’s afternoon tea really well.

Best of all?  I love the feeling of having another draft under my belt and my baking seems to have really improved in that my raspberry cake was at least edible.  I’m going to make this one again, try for better, keep working towards that elusive perfect Picky Foodie cake.

Calorie-wise, at least, I think writing will be easier than baking.  So there’s another reason to give this fiction thing another shot.  In the mean time, however, I think I’ll go brew some rosehip and hibiscus tea and cut myself another little piece.  

Raspberry Cake
(adapted from Jennifer Perillo’s Raspberry Olive Oil Cake)

Makes one 10-inch cake

2 cups Bob’s Red Mill gluten free All Purpose flour
¼ cup coconut sugar
1 T maple syrup
2 t baking powder
¼ t coarse salt
2 T ground flax seeds briefly soaked in 2 T water
1 T melted coconut oil (and a little more to grease the pan)
2 t vanilla extract
½ cup coconut milk
2 c frozen raspberries
1 mashed banana

Preheat the oven to 350 Fahrenheit / 175 Centigrade

Sift together the dry ingredients.

Whisk together the wet ingredients, leaving out the raspberries.

Combine the two and then fold in the raspberries.

Grease a 10 inch round cake pan with a little coconut oil and then pour in the batter.  Bake for 45 minutes.  Allow to cool slightly and then remove the cake from within the cake pan but keep the bottom. 

Once the cake has cooled down completely, indulge in a piece and wait for the muse to find you.

Dear Friends; 

Oats are an interesting part of the gluten-free journey.  Wheat isn’t the only grain that contains gluten: there are spelt, barley and rye to name a few.  Oats, on the other hand, do not in and of themselves contain gluten, and yet they are deemed unsafe. 

Why is that?

The culprit is cross-contamination. 

Cross contamination happens when foods are present in facilities that manufacture other foods.  And oats, for example, are often milled or processed in the same place as wheat; they are often grown in fields adjacent to wheat fields.  This makes them prone to having particles of wheat mixed in with them.

Enter certified gluten-free oats. 

Gluten-free oats have all the same qualities as regular, non-certified oats, except they are “safe” and available at most health food stores, both in the UK as well as the US.  Yay!

As I mentioned before, I don’t have much experience with oats.  When I was a child, the only time I had oatmeal was when we would choose the “healthier” options at the mall in  Florida, where we would visit my grandparents every summer; or Quaker instant oatmeal – the apple cinnamon kind (though I’m dubious as to whether they really contained apples or cinnamon). 

And the plain, watery-oatmeal with a teaspoon of sugar that many Brits seem to love doesn’t float my boat. 

But being married to a Brit means oats are here to stay.  I found myself a little dubious but excited to find a way to love these little low GI, exceptionally power-packed little buggers.

I checked out DW’s store-bought granola that advertised itself as “healthy” – a statement that immediately makes me suspicious.  The amount of sugar and other sweeteners was incredible: sugar, honey, molasses, cane sugar, palm sugar, you name it, it seemed to be in there!

When compared to a deep-fried Mars bar (another thing I was not aware of until I met my husband), granola is probably “healthy” – and who can forget the reputation it earned itself in the seventies and eighties??? … 

But check the labels and you might be surprised… 

Anyway, for obvious reasons, I decided to try my hand at making my own version.  While there are already many many other granola recipes out there, here is my version.

With love,

Gabriela

P.S.  DW deemed it “delicious” 

The Picky Foodie’s Old Fashioned Granola

-  2c gluten-free oats

-  1c almonds, roughly chopped

-  1c apple-juice sweetened, non-sulphured* cranberries (these are much darker than the sugared, sulphured* kind)

-  1c chopped dried apricots (again, the non-sulphured* kind are brownish instead of eighties orange)

-  1/2T vanilla powder

-  1/2c brown rice flakes

-  1c shredded coconut flakes

-  1/2c date syrup

-  1/8c melted coconut oil

-  1/8c whole tahini

Toast the oat flakes in a pan at 160 degrees Centigrade / 320 Fahrenheit for about 10 minutes (give them a good shake every few minutes)

While the oats are toasting, mix the almonds, cranberries, apricots, vanilla, brown rice flakes and coconut flakes in a big bowl. 

Once the dry ingredients are well mixed, add the date syrup, coconut oil and tahini and, once again, mix well.

Add the oats once properly toasted.

Line an oven pan with parchment paper and pour the mixture in.

Bake for 12 minutes.

After 12 minutes, turn the pan around so the side closest to the door is now furthest away, and bake for an additional 10-12 minutes.

Please allow to cool fully before attempting a taste.

*  NOTE: used as a preservative in dried fruit and wine, sulphur dioxide (also known as E220) helps dried fruit retain its colour and prevents rotting.  However, it can cause headaches, bloating, gas and other uncomfortable symptoms in sensitive individuals and is thought to possibly be carcinogenic in large quantities.  Organic dried fruit will not contain sulphur dioxide.