On Life As A Picky Foodie

Dear friends; 

In an attempt to slowly ease my way back into my pre-pregnancy shape, I have been walking at sunset.  As you know, I believe that by setting achievable goals changes can actually happen, and so I am committed to walking 30 minutes every day.  Half an hour isn’t much – a stroll to the nearest health food store and back will take care of that.  The great thing is that I rarely stop there:  some days I’ll do some stretches, others some weights, or I’ll take a longer walk.  But no matter what, I get in the 30 minutes – and anything more is gravy.

I try to set out around 4 p.m. when the sun is still warm and bright, but it sets fast and by 5, it has usually dipped down under the ocean as if it’s in a hurry to be somewhere else.  Our trip to California will soon be coming to an end and I am more aware that these moments of sunshine are to be savoured (and not just for the Vitamin D).   We are scheduled to fly back to the British winter in ten days.

Usually, there are joggers, a few photographers, some surfers, seagulls and a hand full of tourists on the beach.  My aunt was visiting for a few days (thank you, Tia!) and we were chatting as we went wandered by the ocean.

A cluster of people caught my eye: it was a small group – maybe six people in total.  All of them sat in beach chairs, they were hunched and greyed and dressed in office attire.  Two of them were playing music while the rest of them listened in silence.  They were too far away for us to hear the music clearly, but what caught my eye were their instruments.  Unlike the usual guitar-playing beach hippie, one man was playing a bouzouki, the other an accordion.

My aunt and I stopped briefly to look at the group.

Suddenly one of the women watching the musicians, a woman so old she couldn’t stand on her own, rose with the help of the younger man sitting next to her.  Around her neck, reaching almost to the sand, was a thick, dark green scarf that she might possibly have waved around had she thought about it.  But clearly she was thinking of nothing – instead she allowed herself to be transported by the music. 

The expression on her face was one of pure bliss, ecstasy even.  Her body barely moved and yet she was dancing: leaning on the man who held her hand firmly, she moved her foot and then the other in what looked like a traditional step.  Her eyes were closed and she swayed, her lips turned into a secretive smile.  She came from another era, like Jean Reno in Les Visiteurs.  But she didn’t care about the world around her, she’d been taken away by the music, back to a time when her body could move in the way she was imagining.   

The whole group looked wonderfully strange and out of place on the yuppie-littered Santa Monica beach.

My aunt and I continued our walk.  Around us, the men with the six packs jogged past, the tourists tentatively stuck their toes into the water and shrieked, the young families packed up their gear. I wondered where the music had transported the woman, to what event, what place in the world.   

There is no big message this week, just the desire to share a magical moment that I was lucky enough to witness and as America crashes into Thanksgiving overdrive, I keep thinking of what I am grateful for. 

Moments like those.

To continue on the slow theme, I leave you with this recipe: 

Slow-Cooked Soup

Combine in the slow-cooker
-  3 leeks, chopped 
-  1 large marrow of choice, cubed
-  1/2 t dried thyme
-  2 bay leaves
-  a pinch of salt (you'll add more later)
-  1 cup water 

Cook for 4-5 hours, until the marrow is soft.

Then, blend with 500 grams canned butterbeans (rinse well to remove salt)

Garnish with freshly ground pepper and serve with warm and crusty bread (gluten free of course!)