New Juice

I've gotten a few requests for a new juice recipe so here is one I put together this morning.  It is adapted from the Blue Grape recipe in Raw Food Real World.  The original recipe calls for blue/green algae, grapefruit juice, and agave. Mine went like this:

In a blender add:

1 cup of fresh squeezed grapefruit juice (you can buy this at Whole Foods or squeeze yourself)

~ 1/2 cup of frozen grapes

2 droppers full of Marine Phyto Plankton (Use any powder/liquid algae supplement here)

Blend and pour. It is delicious.  I enjoyed sipping this while making Maple Cranberry Granola (Raw Food Real World) and Fig Bars (aka Fig Newtons) from Living Raw Food.  

These two raw food un-cook books are by far my favorite and most used in my growing collection.  New books are what keep me inspired. Sarma Melngailis, is an entertaining writer and the recipes in both of these books range from simple fare to elaborate creations.  I highly recommend both for anyone who wants to get creative, get inspired, and include more delicious, whole, raw foods in their culinary adventures.

Paris: Part Trois

On our final day, Monday, we went to Notre Dame's Cathedral.  The architecture was beautiful and the grandness of the interior was more than I imagined.  Evan seemed thoroughly bored with that exploration.  As he said, "I've seen dozens of European churches and they are all basically the same."  It sort of sapped my enthusiasm, but to be fair he hadn't had his coffee yet and is generally much perkier once that happens.  We contemplated doing the hike up the stairs to the bell tower, but our guide book said it was a "claustrophobe's worst nightmare."  When we saw the line leading into the narrow staircase I knew that would give me a panic attack so we passed. 

Next on the "Paris by Keith" travel suggestions we walked over to Isle St. Louis to browse the shops.  The narrow streets and little shops were beyond quaint.  We conveniently came upon a little cheese shop next to a little bread shop and that pretty much sounded like lunch to us.  The very nice cheese shop owner let us taste a delicious cow's milk swiss (we think, swiss) and we bought a small wedge of that a wedge of very stinky brie.  Next we stopped at the bakery and bought some very dark and chewy loaves, as well as a slice of broccoli quiche and the token croissant.  We finished our little walk on the island, found some very small cups of coffee, and then set about having a  picnic on the river.  Notre Dame is spectacular from every angle and we had a great view of the cathredral while enjoying our bread and cheese lunch.  Evan was right, the bread in Europe is the best I've ever had.  Chewy, crusty on the outside and full of flavor.  It paired perfectly with the cheeses, but the brie was a bit too pungent for me. Evan liked that one though.  

Next on Keith's tour suggestions were to get pastries from one very particular pastry shop called Pierre Herme.  We took two trains to get there and when we did, oh boy!  Keith doesn't kid around about pastries. This was a pretty upscale shop and everything looked so decadent. We were so full from our lunch that we ordered a lemon tart and a flaky, creamy caramel filled delight, the name of which I cannot recall, and we took them with us.  

Evan had a call for work to do, so we went back to the hotel and I took a much needed 20 minute nap.  Next we were off to the area called Montmarte to the Basilica de Sacre Coeur.  We wandered in the wrong direction for 20 minutes before we finally figured out where to go.  This area was very touristy and full of junk shops, artists, and tourists.  The Basilica overlooks the entire city as it sits up on a hill top.  First we looked around inside. Now, I am the sort of person that rebels against rules that I deem arbitrary and this is the only place we entered where pictures were not allowed.  So of course, in a little snit of rebellion, I shut off the flash and took a few because the stain glass was really something to be seen.  Thank goodness for tourists who don't follow rules or the one little man in charge of yelling at said tourists wouldn't have a job. He rushed over and started scolding me in French, I think, but it sounded more like Spanish.  I agreed to put away the camera and within seconds he was rushing off to yell at someone else.  He must have really been sent into a tizzy when someone's cell phone started going off obnoxiously.  I admit breaking rules because I think they are dumb is the last little bit of teenage angst still left in me.... But I have the contraband photos... mwah ha ha...

Next we explored the crypt below the church where I learned from Evan that there are plaques on the floor that one should not step on. Whoops...I didn't even see them.   It was dark and a wee bit eerie but nothing too impressive.  Finally we paid the small fee to climb the tiny spiral staircases up to the top of the basilica.  I managed to get through it with only a few small panic attacks when going up what seemed to be a never-ending amount of stairs. 288 to be exact.   It was disappointing to see all the graffiti up there as the entire city has relatively little but this tourist trap area was completely scarred.

Dinner was next and both of us were getting pretty desperate for fresh vegetables, a salad of any kind. One can only live on bread and cheese for so long and this whole trip was lacking in fresh, live foods and I was really starting to crave them.  Our guide book led us to a little cafe in neighborhood known for their big salads.  So with a glass of wine and a beer for Evan we enjoyed our vegetarian salads, which were covered in potatoes fried in garlic.  That was an interesting twist, but yummy nevertheless.  

I'm sad to say that by the time we got back to the hotel, the last thing we wanted to do was head out again to see Paris at night.  Eight hours of walking and sightseeing really wears me out. Paris at night is a treat that will have to be saved for another trip. Our last evening in Paris was spent relishing the unbelievable pastry we picked up earlier that day. I've never tasted anything like it.  There was moaning involved. As Keith said later, their pastry is sort of a spiritual experience.  Amen to that!  Thanks for telling us about this place Keith. 

We had big plans to get up early on Tuesday to go see Napoleon's tomb and the catacombs. However, parents on vacation need to balance their need to sleep uninterrupted with sightseeing and suffice it to say we slept until 10 am and decided to skip Napoleon's tomb.

The catacombs were the farthest away, but ever since hearing about them in junior high school, I've always been intrigued by the concept.  So off we went. When we arrived we decided to stop at a cafe to get the morning coffee and get our bearings.  It turns out we were kitty-cornered from the entrance to the catacombs as evidenced by the long-line.  Without looking at the menu, we ordered 2 coffees. I stuck to decaf all weekend and I am happy to say that I was served actual decaf because I have not suffered a headache since being home and coffee-less. This is more than I can say for the rare occasion I order a decaf in the U.S. and usually get regular and have to deal with migraines for a few days.  The bill came and it was  8.30 euro!  That is about $12 for 2 cups of coffee. RIDICULOUS!  I admit I am not very conscious of money spending with foreign currency as it all feels like monopoly money to me, but this hit home. I couldn't believe it...and it wasn't even the best cups of coffee for the whole trip either.

After the expensive coffee we waited about 45 minutes in line to the catacombs.  This was our first rainy morning in Paris so I was forced to wear my vibrams as all my other shoes were sandles or flip flops.  I was dreading that a rat was going to run over my feet while down there. Once in we decended down almost 100 steps and walked through a maze of caves and corridors. This was the creepiest part because you never knew when you might come face to skull with some departed soul.  I had to work hard to ignore the upwelling of claustrophobic panic I could feel boiling just under the surface of my being, knowing there was no quick exit.  Finally we came upon a sign that read, "STOP: You are now entering the Empire of the Dead." In French, of course..

And then we entered the series of caves with walls of artfully and neatly arranged femurs, tibias and skulls. It occurred to us that someone's job was to build walls out of human remains. How macabre.  There did seem to be some mortar used to secure the elaborate displays. Room after room after room....all the anticipation of how creepy it would be was quickly desensitized and by the third or fourth room I was actually bored and hoping for the exit.  But overall it was an interesting, if not unusual, ending to a romantic weekend. And, there were no rats. 

After this we gathered our things from the hotel and set off for the airport for an uneventful flight home. Evan was off to Dusseldorf, Germany for business.

Needless to say, I loved Paris.   I could see us living there for a time, as there is so much more to explore and what a lovely home base Paris would be for other adventures in Europe.  Plus, I hope to expose Ian to different cultures of the world while he is young and Paris is so rich - so much to see, contemplate and enjoy.  I plan to learn the language more fluently and hope to continue on with our lessons at home.  Our fifth anniversary went by without much acknowledgement in May, so this trip really was like a second honeymoon.  Thank you for the beautiful time in Paris my love!  I look forward to more exciting adventures with you.

Paris: Part Deux

We slept in on Sunday morning and finally made it out of the hotel around 10 am.  The weather for the first three days of our trip couldn't have been better, bright blue skies, mid 70s and brilliant sunshine.  We wandered over to the metro and purchased tickets for two days from the very friendly and helpful man behind the counter.  It should be noted here, that when we were deciphering the map the day before a nice person, who was not employed by the public transportation authority,  rushed over and offered to help us figure out where we were going and happily switched to English when he realized our French was limited.  So, a word to all the people I have heard say they have no interest visiting France because they heard the French are rude or snotty. From our very limited experience, I would say this stereotype is utter garbage.  In fact, the only rude behavior I experienced or witnessed the entire trip was from Americans, in particular the very short tempered Boston flight attendants who treated the French passengers very rudely.  There is no way a city known as being for lovers could get that reputation with an undercurrent of rudeness and disrespect.  Love abounds there and everyone we encountered was friendly. In fact, the French culture and social etiquette is exceedingly polite with tourists and with each other.  Over the course of this trip I reflected on this stereotype and came to the conclusion that the tourists are likely the ones who are very rude and this negative attitude is simply mirrored back at them. 

In any case, after the very nice encounter with the subway ticket man, I remarked to Evan how different it is if you try to ask someone behind the counter at a NYC subway a question.  I think I'd feel lucky if I got more than a grunt and an annoyed sneer.  The other socio-political observation I made was the refreshing absence of obvious social classes.  I imagine that when the people run the government, everyone is taken care of, and family and leisure time is honored, there isn't much left to be bitter and angry about. When the subway employee is afforded the same basic right to health and happiness as a doctor, I imagine it helps someone's feeling of self worth. When people are valued and feel good about themselves, then they bring their best self to their role in the world and I think that would benefit everyone in the end. 

We took the train down and meandered through Tuilerie Gardens, while Evan enjoyed his morning coffee from a street stand, we sat around the fountains and took it all in. Lots of people were doing much the same as we were, families were strolling, pairs were sitting chatting. The atmosphere was relaxed and peaceful.  The bright blue of the sky and the charming apartments with the wrought iron balconies made me want to break out into a chorus of "Who will buy this wonderful feeling?" as the scene reminded me so much of that scene in Oliver. It was one of those periods of pure, ecstatic bliss and I savored every second of it. 

From there we walked around outside the Louvre before heading over to the Musee d' Orsay, as recommended by our friend Keith The World Traveler.  This museum was a much more manageable size for spending just a few hours and he mentioned that we would probably recognize more in this museum.  We got a few photos inside while studying the sculptures and paintings in the main hall before our camera battery ran out.  There were a few great pieces and, of course, I absolutely loved all the paintings that prominently featured beautiful breastfeeding mothers.  However, the most provocative piece in the whole museum, was without a doubt Gustave Courbet's L'Origine du monde, The Origin of the World.  In person, this was absolutely stunning and very tasteful.  Though I think the title really added to its integrity. If I were a midwife, this would so be hanging in my office. 

If the human body were so tastefully and artfully apparent in our every day life here in the USA I think we'd be a lot better off. Gone would be the discussions of whether mothers should be able to breastfeed in public.  Something else I noticed was the classic style of Parisians. There was no butt-cheeks and thongs hanging out of low cut jeans, there is no draping saggy pants showing your underwear, or anything  tightfitting and/or sleazy. The style of dress there is classy, often very sexy, but very tasteful.  I think this is because sex in the French culture is very artistic, respectful, and classy and that translates to a respect for human sexuality, sensuality, and romance.  Sex in the US culture is anything but cultured. It goes to either extreme here, both hidden and considered wrong and something to be ashamed of leaving people to rebel against that and sensationalize it in a cheap way devoid of sensuality and romance.  The French neither hide it nor exploit it. I loved that.  

We left the museum about 4:30 and decided to head back and eat at one of the charming sidewalk cafe's on the way back to the hotel.  We found one and enjoyed a lovely slow-paced meal while people watching.  We both got the warm goat cheese salad, which came already dressed. The goat cheese was not directly on the salad, but melted onto crostini which were placed on the salad. It was divine.  For the second course, Evan chose the trio of pastas, all of which were obviously made fresh and not from dried pasta and each dressed with different, very flavorful sauces.  As for me, for my whole adult life since my interest in the culinary world took a sharp turn into being a complete foodie, I had wanted to try beef carpaccio. This is very hard to find in any restaurant in the U.S., I personally have never seen it. But here it was, so I had to try it.  It was delicious, but that was much more a tribute to the lemon, capers, olive oil, garlic and artichoke hearts than it was to the raw beef.   It was good, and now I can cross that off my list of things I want to try in my life.   For dessert, Evan chose the caramel flan which was soupy and disappointing. I chose the chocolate mousse....and I am not sure you can really go wrong with that choice. I certainly didn't.  

Evan was starting to get a sore throat from all his travels so again, we were asleep by 9 pm. (to be continued....)

This American Girl in Paris (Part 1)

It took just over 34 years to finally travel abroad. I've been to certain islands in the caribbean and to Canada, but I don't really count that. For as long as I can remember I have wanted to go to Europe and as it turns out, Paris was my first taste what turned out to be a delicious experience, literally and figuratively. 

I left on Friday night. Evan was at the same airport, but a different terminal as he was to fly Air France and I was on American.  We both ended up leaving late. I was supposed to take off at 6:30, but because someone couldn't find and deliver a log book for the pilot to sign, we all sat on the tarmac until 9 pm.  The flight was uneventful and I even managed to doze for a few hours, which helped my nerves as I was pretty apprehensive about flying over the ocean for the first time. 

Evan met me at my gate. Since he had arrived two hours prior he had time to get metro maps and decide how we were going to get to our hotel. This is one of the innumerable reasons I am so grateful to have a capable partner in my life.   He thinks of everything I don't and vice versa.

Our hotel and room were tiny but adorable and a convenient stone's throw away from the metro.  After a quick shower and change we set off to explore, determined to stay up until bed time in spite of the fact that I'd only slept about 6 hours of the last 48.  

Our hotel was right next to the Arc de Triomphe .  We walked down toward the Seine River and happened upon our first and, as it turned out, only green market experience.  If I had know this was the last I was going to see of beautiful fresh fruits, I would have stockpiled.  It was expansive, colorful and and overflowing with fresh ripe goodness of every size and color.  It was a feast to the eyes. I only wish I had my good camera, or even thought to take out our little one, to capture the vibrant colors and hustle and bustle of this large green market.  As it was, we had just gotten going and I wasn't about to get saddled down with bags of produce.  And, I was in Paris!  Eating for optimal nutrition was off my priority list for the next few days. 

Next we saw the Eiffel Tower which was a lot bigger than I had imagined.  We walked underneath, saw the winding long line, and decided that going up it was not important to us.  By this time we were famished and stopped for lunch at a little cafeteria style restaurant on a boat. I had an expectation that everything that crossed my palate on this trip was going to be an explosion of flavor that would drown away in mmm and ahhhh type yummy noises, however this place didn't look too promising. I was wrong.  It was simple, yes.  I asked for quiche, but the server heard "fish" and so I was served a piece of salmon.  The salmon melted on my tongue like butter....probably because it was cooked in about a pound of it, but it was good.  Simple and satisfying too.  Evan got a lasagna that was equally good as I think the pasta was fresh and the cheese was well, cheesy, and that makes anything good. 

We strolled on in search of Rodin's Garden.  I loved taking in the beautiful tree lined sidewalks, breathtakingly beautiful buildings, and what seemed like sculptures and fountains on every block.  From the iron balconies overflowing with colorful flowers to the 10 piece orchestra in the subway, Paris seems to have charm oozing out the cracks in the sidewalk.  It was intoxicating. 

Rodin's Garden was a perfectly manicured garden around a museum that used to be a hotel.  I was familiar with "The Thinker" and "The Kiss", which is an achingly romantic piece, a theme that comes through in many of his sculptures.  However, I was most moved by one I'd never seen before called "The Hand of God" which was a large hand emerging from the rough stone and within it were the intertwined forms of Adam 

and Eve.  There is a sensuousness to his work.  The bodies give a feeling a fluidity and movement as they intertwine with one another. I love when art can invoke an emotion.  When I studied "The Kiss" I could faintly feel the butterflies in my stomach.  At this point, I was starting to see why Paris is well known as one of the most romantic cities in the world, love and beauty abound in every eyeful. 

Evan was more a fan of the Gates of Hell, which again included a sea of tangled, sensuous bodies as a tribute to Dante's Inferno.  Without a doubt it is a grand masterpiece, but I preferred the smaller works.  

At this point we had reached the 4 pm "witching hour" that Evan thinks is the hardest part of jet lag.  We revitalized with a coffee for him and an ice cream (tiramisu and chocolate) for me.  The ice cream was rich and velvety, like nothing I'd ever had before.  The flavors were really bold. This was the first of several times I wondered why everything tasted better in Paris....why is that?!?

After our snack we managed to meander home, pick up a couple of baguette sandwiches on the way and were out cold by 8 pm.  (to be continued...) 

Maple Your Blueberry Ice Cream

I've not stopped thinking about the ice cream we had in Vermont last week. The day was sweltering and our hostess decided we just must have a very specific ice cream from a small shop in Waterbury. Being in the land of all that is Ben and Jerry, I wasn't sure how this little walk up window was going to compare.  One sample of their homemade maple blueberry and I was a convert. The quality was superb. Being in the state known for having more cows than people, you are all but guaranteed the freshest of fresh dairy products.  I've sampled blueberry ice creams and gelatos far and wide and, try as I might,  never ever been a fan of them.  The blueberry is never blueberry enough for me.  In this version, I believe it was the maple syrup that really played nicely with the blueberries. There is something to be said for things that grow together go together, like Italy's tomato and basil. Ok, fine I know maple is harvested in early spring and blueberries aren't ready until late summer, but both are popular northern New England delights so you get the idea. 

Suffice it to say I was hoping to recreate this flavor at home in a raw ice cream....the bane of my culinary existence. Try as I might, I have yet to make a really delicious raw ice cream. It's always too nutty, too coconut-ty, not the right texture, the vanilla doesn't stand up, too firm the next day, and what-not. I've EATEN  really good raw ice creams, so I know they are possible, I just haven't created one yet. 

I'd been meaning to try using irish moss as my ice cream thickener and had one recipe given to me. So tonight I tried it and it worked perfectly.  

Here is the original recipe as it was given to me:

Vanilla Coconut Ice Cream 
Recipe by Elaina Love 

2 cups almonds 
3 cups water 
½ cup coconut oil 
¼ packed cup Irish moss by weight after soaking 3-8 hours and rinsing well 
1 cup agave nectar 
¼ tsp. vanilla powder ( or 1 vanilla bean) 
2 tsp. vanilla extract 
1/4 tsp. Himalayan salt crystals 

1. Blend the almonds with water to make a thick almond cream. Strain the mixture through The Amazing Nut Milk Bag and store the pulp for another recipe. 
2. Blend 1 cup of the almond milk with the Irish Moss until very smooth. 
3. Add the remainder of ingredients and blend until smooth. 
4. Pour into a freezable container and let freeze overnight. 
5. Let thaw about 15 minutes before serving.

My changes were:

I used 1/2-2/3 cup of maple syrup instead of agave, about 1 TBSP of vanilla water instead of the vanilla listed, and a bag (~10-12 oz) of frozen wild Maine Blueberries.  Then I froze in an ice cream maker instead of overnight....because we needed dessert promptly.

Two Years Raw in Review

It was two years ago in August that I waded into the raw food world.  I'm feeling the need to explore and review my journey from then until now and the observations I have made along the way.  

My initial foray started as a desire to find something as good for my body as the raw food diet I'd been feeding the dogs for nearly a decade.  I was exploring vegetarianism and veganism. Those culinary and dietary adventures took place the June and July of 2007.  I was not a fan of the high soy content and it just wasn't feeling like the lifestyle would suit me.  I was definitely looking for a lifestyle, not a fad.  The word diet has so many connotations, many of them not good but is really just about choices.  We all follow a diet. Some follow a McDonald's and potato chip diet, others follow Weight Watchers, The Zone, Atkins, etc. But when trying to experience greater health and increased energy, what I was looking for really had to be something that meshed with my lifestyle, meaning it resonated at all three levels of my being; physical, mental/emotional and spiritual. Something that would incorporate over time into just being what I do because it feels right and not something I have to work too hard at "staying on" with the inevitable "falling off" and accompanying effort, struggle, guilt and feelings of failure.

My friend Melissa was doing her own exploring in this area and suggested the book that forever changed my relationship with food; The Raw Food Detox Diet by Natalia Rose.  It is one I suggest to people interested in raw foods as a good starter because it is not dogmatic about being "a raw foodist." It's about assessing your current choices and lifestyle and making small improvements over time.   Natalia Rose is a nutritionist so it is also overflowing with valuable information about our digestive process, how foods are utilized, what certain foods do to the body and, of course, recipes. I also happen to love her approach to raw foods and eating awareness with children since she is also a mother. 

After reading this book, I immediately bought a juicer and started drinking fresh juices, some green but a lot fruity.  At this point, I focused mostly on getting good stuff into me and less on avoiding things.  Things sort of skyrocketed at that point, the more live enzymes, live foods and cleaner eating began crowding out the less optimal options.  Then before I knew it, I actually desired more and more live, energy-giving raw foods.   My goal initially was simply 50-60% raw and the rest primarily vegan with occasional fish and some unhealthy junk food habits.  This amounts to fruit until lunch, a salad at lunch and a mostly cooked dinner. She outlines eating light to heavy over the course of a meal and the course of a day. The logic Rose gives on this made sense for me and I still tend to eat in this pattern.  Whenever I found myself going off the rails at this point, forcing down juices for a day or two quickly brought me back.  I think the slow improvements and transitional foods Rose advocates are really what helped me transition into a primarily raw vegetable diet.   Transitional foods such as sprouted grain breads, brown rice, whole grain pastas, fish, sweet potatoes, lightly cooked vegetables, and organic 70% dark chocolate bars as treats.  During the first 15 months or so I was able to get accustomed to these changes, fall back into my prior habits and get right back on rather easily. I knew from the get-go this was the lifestyle I was looking for. It honors the planet, local and organic produce, the animals, and my body. It felt good on all levels.  I lost the 20 pounds I have fluctuated between for most of my adult life.  I had abundant energy, clear skin,  and simply felt fabulous.  The cleaner diet made way for a clearer spirit and calmer way of relating, particularly with Ian. Who I was on the inside was reflected in who I was on the outside and vice versa. There was harmony in my being. 

By the one year mark I had started eating 70-80% raw with short bursts of 99+%.  I felt joyful. I also was feeling a little too concerned with the number, like it was some sort of self imposed challenge to remain raw.  I beat myself up when I "failed."  This is when, now, I see the emotional stuff started surfacing.  The stuff I needed to face and every person who loses weight needs to face, lest they gain it all back.   I needed to face the emotional ties, but I wasn't ready. The universe, in its infinite wisdom, delivered me an emotional challenge in the fall 2008 that rocked my previously calm and centered self.   As if to say, "Oh you think you got it figured out, here, let's challenge that!"  I sank into a very mild, 8 month depression and found it challenging to stay raw and make healthy choices.  Comfort foods called to me. Slowly, but surely, cheeses and ice cream (and the excess mucus and eczema) made frequent appearances.  Mentally justified baked goods were often created lovingly in my kitchen and then devoured every time I passed by.  Feelings of failure at my lack of willpower or any comment that implied such made me feel worse, so I reached for more.  Pastas led to cooked meals a few times a day. By spring, raw was the fleeting, often pathetic attempt between binges on carbs. Needless to say, every one of the twenty pounds came back in a flash.  I tried the gym in a half-hearted attempt to justify my poor eating choices. I needed my drug of choice to medicate the pain. I still had an intellectual interest in raw foods. I networked with other raw food people in the area. I read new books. Nothing helped spur me back on the track of desiring my health again.  Short bursts of eating raw gave me some clarity and relief but they didn't last. I wasn't addressing the cause of my problem.  

As spring moved into summer I was able to get back to regularly eating about 60% raw with the other 40% being less than optimal choices.  I experimented with adding small amounts of meat back into my diet up until just last weekend.  I know the last year sounds like it was a real bummer for me, but it really served me to get to see exactly how different foods affect my body, mind, and spirit.  This experience was illuminated for me when I read Raw Emotions by Angela Stokes. A MUST READ for anyone who struggles with yo-yo-ing, dieting/bingeing, and emotional, unconscious eating.  It shines a light in the darkness, at least it did for me.  While her point of view is obviously as a raw foodist, the bulk of the book is not about that. It's about our emotional and physiological addictions to food and it contains several tips and techniques for recognizing unhealthy patterns and ways to help fix them.  I've never read a book focused on the EMOTIONAL reasons for obesity and how to address those, the one thing that everyone on a quest to be healthy and lose weight must address at some point.  So with the light shining from Raw Emotions now in my thought process, I was able to see patterns, connect dots, draw conclusions, become conscious and make better choices. Easily.  And it began the next day.

For the last 3 weeks I have easily chosen a 99% raw foods, 90% of the time.  And the other 10% of the time, I am conscious of my choice. I pause and do some internal work, and think about what's going on. The lousy choices made in the last few weeks have had clearly observable results making it easier to make better choices thereafter.

For example over the last 2 years and particularly the last few weeks I have determined;

ALL cooked grains and most particularly white ones and processed sugar are what I reach for when I am stressed. I don't taste them and slow down to enjoy them, I eat them compulsively.  They don't fill me because they are not being eaten to fill a nutritional need. They are eaten to fill an emotional disturbance, so once eaten I am still actually hungry and must eat until satiated anyway.  This I noticed a few days after reading Raw Emotions. I was stressed about packing for the trip to Vermont and given that we were leaving for the weekend, my fridge was sparse. Ian asked for pasta for lunch and I made him a brown rice pasta with peas, broccoli, and red peppers, seasoned with olive oil, salt, and a little nutritional yeast for cheesy flavor.  I was stressed out and rationalized a taste. This turned into a spoonful or two right out of the pot.  Then when I was feeling overwhelmed by something,  I found myself standing there again, spoon in hand, and the illuminating awareness appeared. STOP.  THINK.  I recognized in that moment I was stress-eating to dull the emotion. I've read in several places that one cannot feel emotionally during the primitive act of eating.  What a highly affective emotional sedative.  But wha-la, there it was and I was in the act. So it wasn't like it went unnoticed or realized in retrospect. This was a monumental moment of growth for me. I stopped and for the rest of the day noticed immediately when I felt drawn to the stovetop and stopped to address why I was stressed instead of self-medicating. 

In more than a minute quantity, the morphine-related addictive property of carbs changes my mental chatter and I begin craving more of them and rationalizing why I need them or should have them. It messes with my ability to make good choices...sometimes for days, sometimes for months as it did last fall.  A small exposure, taken consciously and not in the midst of an emotional challenge is received better and doesn't send me down that path.  Consciously is the key here.  For example, in Vermont Ian and I picked 6 cups of fresh blueberries and were faced with an afternoon of "hanging around" followed by a cookout with friends. So together we baked a traditional blueberry pie. I savored it when I had it and was aware that later when the craving for more sweets/carbs hit, I was ready for it and knew it was the carbs talking.   Overall, I have a much easier time saying no to the first bite than I do talking myself out of a second piece so its just easier not to have it at all. That doesn't mean I never will make the choice to have something sinfully delicious, I am focused working on making conscious choices, savoring the moment,  and knowing what to expect afterwards.  

The physical component goes like this for me. Carbs and processed sugar make me lethargic and hungry. The spikes and falls in blood sugar coupled with the gluten is hell on my system.  If you mix flour with water you get glue. So bread, essentially, acts like a gluey sticky mess in the digestive system making all other digestion less efficient.  

Meat.  I have been occasionally eating meat over the last several months and this is what I learned. Not only is it a gateway drug for me because I feel so miserable afterwards, it makes me angry and agitated, which leads me back to carbs for soothing.  I also suffer insomnia after having it yet am also exhausted.  Probably because my body is so busy trying to digest it, it doesn't have time for any other activities.  The anger and agitation is so apparent it is not worth having it at all. This is where my patience that is so abundant when eating raw foods, disappears entirely. I am snappy and angry. I yell a lot. I get sick of my own voice. I become resistant to everything and what you resist persists. So Ian and I get into control conflicts that I must "win". Battles of wills abound.   I know a lot of you  will think I am crazy, but I recognize this as the energy of the animal I am eating being taken into my body. If you can imagine the mental and emotional state of a factory farmed animals in tight living conditions culminating in an inhumane slaughter...that is the anger I manifest when eating them. It comes right through me.  I'm all set with it.  Ironically, I do not have this same reaction to fish at all. I try to always choose wild fish that is not over-fished or high in mercury and enjoy it occasionally.  I do not experience any of the same symptoms.  It took several "tests" of this theory before the cause/effect relationship sunk in for me.  My final confirmation came again this past weekend in Vermont.   I came up from putting Ian to bed RAVENOUS (never a good place to be) and the cook-out menu on this night was burgers and dogs on white bread.  A third reincarnation of the leftover salad in the fridge as my only healthy option was quickly discarded because I was unbelievably hungry and bored with the salad.  I quickly and unconsciously rationalized how long it has been since I had a hot dog and hamburger and before I knew it my burger was on the grill and I was eating a hot dog.  At this point, I did stop and became conscious, or mindful as the Buddhists would say.  Then, at least, I  savored and enjoyed the food as I chewed it appreciating that it was a rarity in my diet.  I did this for the burger on white bread too.   After this I easily rationalized unhealthy eating for the remainder of the evening and enjoyed too much dessert.....and I paid for it later.  I tossed and turned all night. I was sweating. I got up several times.  The drive home the next day was horrid. I was exhausted, angry. I pissed off Evan as Ian played off my short fuse and antagonized me the whole way home.  It was utterly miserable.  I will never say me and meat are done forever but I think its highly unlikely that I will ever choose it unconsciously again and not fully understand the aftermath that will be in store. Meat is, by far,  the single worst thing for my mental and emotional well-being.  Without it, it's smooth sailing.  I do sometimes wonder if ethically raised, "happy" meat or wild meat would make a difference but for right now, I don't care to find out. I'm sure at some point I'll conduct that experiment. 

Physically speaking, eating meat cause a spike in white blood cells. The body recognizes a foreign body and mounts an immune response.  I don't feel the effects of this per say, but I do know that Ian does not eat meat and eats a diet very high in raw fruits and vegetables and is rarely sick. (knock on wood). I feel his diet combined with his no-vaccination, no-antibiotic, full-term breastfeeding history is the reason he has thus far enjoyed the benefit of  health. When I go through a crap-eating period, so does he a bit by default and whala...he's sick or at least he looks sickly with dark circles, congestion, and puffy eyes.  When I say this I by no means take his health for granted or like  it is some sort of accomplishment on my part. I am just grateful to have a very healthy, happy boy thus far and I believe my choices for him are supporting his growth and wellness. 

Dairy:  By this I mean cow's milk products mostly, but for me also goat and sheep. This one affects me negatively purely on the physical plane. I sourced local, raw, naturally raised cow's milk so any of the other factors with milk procurement have been neutralized as far as inhumane treatment and hormones.  Milk products give me excess phlegm and eczema and when consumed in excess, zits. Cream and butter don't contain the casein protein, so they are less of a problem if I want them, but I generally don't choose them anyway.  There is a lot of information to read online about cow's milk but it is one of the least effective forms of calcium for people. Dark leafy greens and nuts are a much more useable form of calcium for humans. That said, I do buy this local milk occasionally and make it "live" again by making yogurt for Ian.  He doesn't do well with dairy either but I like him to have some animal products in small amounts. I don't want to experiment with his growing body and nutritional needs and he seems to handle this form of dairy just fine. 

So here I am, 2 years raw-ish and 3 weeks pretty easily and effortlessly enjoying a high raw diet.  I've lost almost half of my 20 transient pounds.  The first two years gave me lots of time to learn and grow and also to adjust. The food preparation is different. It requires some different equipment to really live the lifestyle and feel satisfied both as a consumer and as someone who loves to create in the kitchen.   Two years to finally uncover and start working on the deep seated emotional eating, cravings, and patterns.  And a lifetime left to work on where my challenges are. Socially, traveling, visiting family and friends, these are where most of my poor choices take place. I can't travel with my kitchen, I can't stay home indefinitely, and not very many people adopt a raw lifestyle. I can always only do the best that I can.  After all, I am visiting Paris next week for the first time and I do plan to mindfully and with full awareness enjoy a perfect croissant.

 I feel like huge strides have been made, the biggest ones being in the emotional awareness realm and breaking unhealthy habits.  New adventures in raw food are of interest to me as I explore and learn more about wild edibles, living natural spring water, and individualized herbal elixirs.  Looking forward to more of this amazing journey, wherever it takes me.

Smoothies and Foraging...

I never blog mid-day unless I just have to. I just created a smoothie that warrants being written down So here it is. Hmm, let's call it the Chocolate Covered Cherry Berry Smoothie.   At least, that's what Ian and I named....

Hemp milk (1 cup water and a TBSP or two of hemp seeds, blended)

Banana, frozen goji berries (YAY Whole Foods!),  frozen cherries, and a couple of dates

2 TBSP of cacao powder

YUM!  

Now we are trekking back out in the heat to collect some more monarch caterpillars. We brought home a sample one to identify in the field guide Ian picked out on our last library trip. He also picked out a bird and seashore field guide and has been studying the pictures.  Seems like a great start to homeschooling to me. 

In other news, I am on now on a knowledge quest of wild edibles. Still too novice to actually try much, I am working on identification.  When in VT this past weekend we enjoyed wild blackberries and raspberries on our hikes, but all the greenery remains a mystery to me.... a mystery I just must solve. I feel like I am looking at nature's abundance the way one looks at one of those computer art things you have to squint your eyes to see the picture and I just can't do it yet.  If only I could easily identify which greens are nutritious and edible and which, you know, might leave me paralyzed.  So I do what I always do when something new intrigues me. I dive in head first.  We took out a bunch of books at the library last week, I've located one or two websites, and I am studying.  This morning we went on our first foraging expedition in our backyard  and brought back samples of plants (that some would call weeds) to identify. Ian looked through books and I looked online and we managed to identify a couple.  Ian loves this new project and is very happy to tell everyone when he sees wild carrot. He pulls it up and explains what it is and tells you to smell it.  This morning he explained to his Nonnie that the ENORMOUS weed patch down the street (that the town has to trim several times a summer) is actually edible japanese knotweed.  The goldenrod is in bloom and we are planning to collect leaves and dry them to make teas, apparently great for colds and congestion.  I'm becoming clearer on sumac and realize now that the huge red tufts we saw in VT this weekend was the edible sumac berries and, had I known, could have been steeped in cold water to make a sumac lemonade. The sumac leaf I brought home to identify this morning was questionable....so we scrubbed ourselves with tecnu just in case. There is so much to learn and I am loving this process. Someday that vast, somewhat blurry, view of field and forest might start looking like a salad.....when I learn how to squint just right. 

I'm astounded and amazed that so much of what I have always considered annoying weeds are here to feed us, so we can eat healthfully, locally, and with minimal impact on the earth.  And that all of this is here in such abundance, I wonder if we all had this knowledge, what kind of impact would that have on our planet?  It seems so silly that it's all right here in front of us so blatantly and we are blind to it.  No, its not even that we are blind to it, we DESTROY it intentionally and consider our hearty local flora nothing but an invasive nuisance.  We kill what is supposed to grow here and spend exorbitant amounts of time and money trying to grow things that aren't meant to grow here...you know, like lawns.  My definition of a beautiful landscape is shifting a bit now too, that perfectly manicured lawn is not nearly as attractive to me as it once was.  A field of wild grasses, greens and flowers is stunning. It is Eden and we are already living in it.