Swallowing hard

Its hard to think about much else when there is so much pain and tragedy in Japan. My heart goes out to all those affected by the earthquake and tsunami. Japan is a beautiful land filled with wonderful people, so to see tragedy strike is heartbreaking.

My prayers are with you, Japan.

Guilty Pleasures

I bought a forbidden treat last week and I have to confess, I loved every savory bite. Over Super Bowl weekend I've convinced myself that gluttony is ok and that processed foods and additives don't matter; an American tradition I'm not willing to give up. So last Sunday on my counter there sat bags and bags of chips alongside of pre-made salsas, tortillas, bean & cheese dips and gooey, greasy satisfying chicken wings. But among all of these yummy snacks there sat - in all of its glory - an orange bag housing my favorite crunchy edible treat. Upon seeing the bag, saliva seeped from my mouth and dripped down my shirt. I set my plate of food onto the table and then ripped open the bag and took one - not wanting to seem greedy - of the orange crunchy miracles and placed it onto my tongue.

When I have a bag of Cheetos(R) in my hands my self-control lands somewhere outside of the window. Everyday until the bag is gone I minimize lunch and dinner, leaving more room for artificial cheesy puffiness. Now, I'm a relatively healthy person. I cook from whole foods, minimize meat consumption, am conscious of food labels announcements of sodium, ugly ingredients I can't pronounce and those superfluous calories. But when I have an orange bag of crunchies sitting on my lap, health awareness of pushed into a place I cannot consciously go.

In the past year, I switched from the orange bag with Chester Cheetah to buying the "healthy baked cheese puffs," thinking to myself that I can eat twice as much because they are made from organic processed powder cheese and disodium phosphate. Seemingly disgusting, right? My taste buds thought so too at first, but they quickly settled. Any kid - in their right frame of mind - would throw down baked cheese puffs and spit out what does not stick in their teeth and shout, "Gross!" Perhaps its my grown-up sophisticated taste buds that help me to imagine that baked cheese snacks are an exotic twist on the original Cheeto. At least that's what I have to tell myself. I mean disodium phosphate has got to be healthier when the claim "organic" is slapped next to the label.

But, then the unthinkable happened. I was sitting on the couch, innocently eating baked cheese puffs when my eye started to itch. I went to the mirror and saw a hive forming. Strange, I thought. So, I took an anti-histamine and went to sleep. A few days later the same thing happened after eating baked cheese puffs. I cried.

I live in a land of health consciousness; a land where people sneer if you don't bring your own sacks to the grocery store and spending extra money on organics is expected. Not that I disagree with that, but you can imagine what people would say about my Cheeto secret. (My embarrassment amongst fellow health-conscious Coloradoans was the other reason I switched to baked cheese puffs.) When in the store, before I switched to the organic version, I'd tuck the forbidden treasure under my bulk organically dried black beans, broccoli, and eggs produced from cage free, whole grain-grass fed chickens. I'd hide the orange bag and dart to the flax seed department trying to avoid any stink eyes given to me from other shoppers. And now, because of my allergy to baked cheese puffs, I'm resigned to endure this again.

Perhaps you're wondering why I've devoted an entire blog post to Cheetos. The truth is that this blog is about things that I love and well, Cheetos made the cut.

But in all seriousness, I've learned a good lesson from this situation. To me, what gives life its quality needs careful consideration and devotion. And if that means indulging in a handful of Cheetos from time to time in order for life to have a little more happiness, then changing that may not be worth the trouble.

Cheers to Cheetos and to a life of happiness!

The end.

And then, Winter Came

It's cold in Denver. Very Cold! I walked 10 blocks to the grocery store and had a snot cube when I got there. Gross, I know - but that's how cold it is.


Other than a grocery trip, I've stayed nestled in my home, away from the cruel, unforgiving air. The white snow seems playful and is pretty from behind my window, but after my walk I decided it's best enjoyed from my couch while sipping a cup of coffee. That was a good decision. The coffee is scrumptious -warming my frostbitten limbs -as it trickles down to my stomach. I'll keep snow at a distance today.




I went to sleep last night, knowing that I wouldn't leave my house today. Last night was bitter outside too. Most of the schools in the Denver area already announced closure by the 5pm news. Despite a city used to snow, it shut down. I think everyone was looking for an excuse to stay home. I was.


Today turned into a productive day. I practiced yoga, wrote in my journal, looked through recipes, read, made a good lunch, read some more. I baked 4 loaves of bread and the sweet smell of yeast is looming over my head. It's been a good day - I'm planning on a movie later.

Aside from coffee, I crave soup on this kind of wintry day. I can't think of anything else I'd rather have. This is what forced me to walk to the store. I would have driven, but my car wouldn't start. There are not many things I'd walk 10 blocks in negative degree weather for. My stomach is a bit controlling.

I came across this soup recipe last autumn in a cookbook entitled EatingWell in Season: The Farmer's Market Cookbook. The recipe has everything good purred into a soup. It's rich, flavorful and creamy. Mmm... I love creamy! But, believe it or not, the soup contains no cream. Nothing against cream - we are inseparable friends and a bit possessive of each other's company - but my winter thighs need their distance. This recipe is a delightful compromise between maintaining flavor while keeping the fat content down. So, instead of cream giving this soup its richness, it is the vegetables that do it. Imagine that.




The recipe - Roaster Pear-Butternut Soup - is simple and to the point. There is not much brain-work that goes into it and the measurements can easily be adjusted to your liking. Amazing things can happen when the smell of pear, butternut squash and leeks are roasting in your home - like your neighbors might come knocking on your door to forgive you of the 10ft statue in your front yard just for a taste. It might be wise to indulge them.

It is a filling soup as all the good fiber expands in the belly. So, be conscious if you're saving room for dessert. It will leave you feeling good and full, not fat and lethargic. It might even give you a little energy to get outside and shovel the snow; or at least stay awake for a movie.


I've altered this recipe slightly. I typically use either blue or Gorgonzola cheese. The cheese is such a nice compliment that I strongly encourage it. Also, I use 1 can of diced tomatoes instead-for simplicity sake. Like I said, the measurements of each vegetable/fruit are up to you, but here is a guideline.

Roasted Pear-Butternut Soup with Crumbled Stilton

2 ripe pears, peeled, quartered and cored
2lbs butternut squash, peeled, seeded and cut into 2-3 inch chunks
2 medium tomatoes, cored and quartered or 1 can of diced tomatoes, drained
1 leek, pale green and white parts only, halved and lengthwise, sliced and washed
2 garlic cloves, crushed
2 Tbs extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 teas salt, divided
fresh ground pepper to taste
4cups vegetable broth
1/2cup blue cheese, Gorgonzola or Stilton or any other blue-veined cheese

Preheat oven to 425 degrees F.

Combine pears, squash, tomatoes, leek, garlic, oil, 1/4 teas salt and pepper into a roasting pan; tossing to coat. Spread evenly onto pan and roast until vegetables are tender. apx. 45-55min. Let cool a bit.

Place 1 cup of roasted veggies into a blender and then 1 cup broth. Puree until smooth and then pour into large saucepan. Do this until both vegetables and broth are gone.

Once everything is blended, cook soup another 10 min on medium-high heat in saucepan or until warm throughout.

Separate into bowls and then garnish with cheese. Enjoy with some warm bread!

A Tribute

December was more then I could bear. It was a tough month and one that I could have lived without. For all I care, it could be erased off of the 2010 calendar. If that was possible, then a friend would still be living and my uncle-in-law would have woken up from his nap. I wish erasing months could happen.


Tragedy isn't something that I'm familiar with. I'm not sure if that is a blessing or unfortunate, since I don't know how to respond to its presence. But, it showed up unannounced, uninvited and ready to be confronted (I must mention that I don't like confrontation either).


During December, my emotions spilled out everywhere leaving a sappy mess all over the kitchen floor. Sadness laid its black ugly spot but all of the mops that I used could not clean up its stain. All of my creative juices turned sour and my rationality was diluted. I was a mess.


But somehow - amidst all of the grief - I managed to reflect on what makes a man great; the things that make people say, "Gee, what a nice guy, it shouldn't have happened to him." For the two men I knew, they had many. But for my friend, I couldn't stop thinking about how well he loved. He had an amazing ability to look beyond a stereotype and love anyway, taking judgment away. I admired this about him because, I've always been terrible at it.


So, in his honor, I've been working hard to rid myself of judgment. It's not easy, but I'm doing it. Not judging somebody or thinking I've got things all figured out feels really good. I highly recommend it.


In my quest to end judgment on others however, I've stumbled across something else worth mentioning. This something else has - unfortunately - dictated my life. Because of it, I've closed open doors and have said no to attainable dreams. I've tolerated its constant nagging to the point that I believed it was real. I clench my teeth realizing that I've been under its control. So, I'll tell you - that when I took away judgment on others - the sky opened up and rays of sun shone down allowing me to see that this whole time, I've been judging myself. Its sad that I've cowered and kept my tail between my legs for 29 years, but I guess there's redemption in understanding it now. That is at least, what I envision any wise senior citizen telling me.


Now I can say with sincerity that it wasn't my 4th grade teacher with the fuzzy mole on her nose telling me I couldn't live my dreams, it was I. The forces of judgment kept me stooped down, knee-bent in a corner unable to peak out behind it. But now, all of that will change.


I've practiced taking that big hairy cloud of self-judgment off my shoulders and I'm somewhat amazed at what I've found. There's a lot of love in there and a lot more spunk too. Some might say those are my true colors (isn't there a song about that?). Whatever it is, I like it.


My friend would be happy for me - that's just the type of guy he was. I think there is something to be said for someone who is still affecting lives, even after he's passed on.

Le Brownie Ecstasy

I overeat. Or at least I used to. I'd sit at the school lunch table, self-consciously tucking my pant waist over my fat roll while hoping none of the popular tooth-pick girls watched. I'd sigh as I opened my Rainbow Bright lunch box. Then, fingering the cellophane wrappers, I'd bypass the dried out carrot-sticks and head straight for the brownie. I'd tear open the plastic wrapper like I hadn't eaten in days, glance right and left and then sink my teeth into that succulent chocolate.

The moment the brownie touched my lips, the chatter and giggles in the school lunch room faded into the ceiling tiles. Faces disappeared and the room filled with white fluffy clouds. Sirens sang and strummed their harps. I was in my happy place, where bunnies hopped and birds chirped. Yes, I'm being serious. Brownies did that to me.

I still remember the feeling of relief chewing gave me. For the first time that day, I didn't care that I sat alone-I had my brownie and that was enough.


Don't feel sorry for me. I used to appreciate sympathy for not being popular; but really, it's how my passion for food started. I should thank those skinny girls that I didn't talk to. From them, I understood that food-in all of its comfort-is always there for me with no expectation to impress. Food, brownies in particular, still make me feel good about myself-inducing a moment of ecstasy on my palate. They take me to that magical place where I'm soaring through the sky and bouncing on clouds. (And I'm not talking about those brownies you'd eat at a party. I don't need them-chocolate is enough to do that to me.) Food is a passion and no longer a way to avoid the unfriendly.

Today, I ate a brownie at the work lunch table. I caught myself glancing right and left. But these days my paranoia takes aim at something different: I do not like sharing brownies. I've learned how to contain my brownie ecstasy to a blank stare, so no one will be curious and ask for a bite. Some days I save my brownie for when nobody is around. That way there is no risk of being asked to tear off 'just a little piece.' Maybe I'm selfish, but at least I know my boundaries.

I live 1500 miles away from my mother. If I'm lucky enough when I come for a visit, these brownies are sitting on her kitchen counter, waiting for their best friend. I think they're magical in many ways. When my mother and I agree on nothing else, these brownies sooth our misunderstandings; reminding us that while we all have our own opinions, we are still connected as human beings-even if it is only by a brownie. One taste and I'm reminded that everything will be OK.

Best Brownies- from Hershey's Classic Recipes

• 1/2 cup butter, melted


• 1 cup sugar


• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract


• 2 eggs


• 1/2 cup all-purpose flour


• 1/3 cup Hershey's Cocoa


• 1/4 teaspoon baking powder


• 1/4 teaspoon salt


• 1 batch of Creamy Brownie Frosting

Heat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease 9 inch square baking pan. In one bowel, stir butter, sugar and vanilla. Then beat in eggs, one at a time-set aside. In another bowel, stir flour, cocoa, baking powder and salt. Once blended, combine with butter/sugar mixture. Spread into prepared pan. Bake for 20-25 minutes or until edges separate from pan. Cool and then spread with frosting.

Creamy Brownie Frosting

• 3 tablespoons butter, softened


• 3 tablespoons Hershey's Cocoa


• 1 tablespoon honey


• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract


• 1 cup powdered sugar


• 1-2 tablespoons milk

While brownies bake, prepare frosting. Beat together butter, cocoa, honey and vanilla. Gradually add powdered sugar and milk (add more of less milk for desired thickness). Blend well and top brownies once cooled.

These brownies are my treasure at the end of the rainbow. If I found a pot of gold I'd be happy, but a little frustrated that it took the place of these brownies.

Perspective

I take a walk in the woods to clear my head. Hoping that for an hour, time won't matter. I find a tree and lay under it, smelling the sweetness of the soft flowered grass. There is a lake and I hear geese splash, refreshing themselves in between lags of their long journey. Highlights of red, yellow and orange-the colors of autumn-shimmer on the lake's glassy surface. The tree I'm under is profound, its power shown by the thickness of it's core and the length of it's limbs; cradled by blue sky. The sun radiates through its branches, leaving each leaf illuminated-shinning in their glory.

I'm in a wide-open space. Vulnerable to what Mother Nature brings, but I feel safe. Safer then when I'm in my home with ceilings, walls and a locked door. The landscape is expansive and I'm just one amidst the trees and animals living here. I'm an unseen visitor, seeking refuge in the natural world. Somehow though, I feel I am a part of the land surrounding me.

I'm envious of the squirrels that jump in the tree on the branches above. They have no clothes, no money, no job, no refrigerator or stove and no savings account. They live with freedom. Their home is the tree, so they do not worry.

Chirping echoes through the tree and resonates in me sounds of a lullaby heard long ago. I am calm and my breath is deep. My eyes lull shut by the power of the warm sun. I hear the rustling of leaves, but my attention shifts towards a dream. In my dream, I am a child again lying on summers grass under a tree.

My eyes flit open. They squint towards my wrist, but I have no watch. I look at the tree branches-leaves illuminated-seeing something that wasn't there before I dreamed. Something beautiful. Something I'd seen years ago. My body does not move, so I stare through the trees watching it. Sensing its power, hearing its laughter, feeling its love-it's familiar. My senses form it's shape and my memories tell me what it is.

A watermark, I'm told is always there but not seen until studied in the light. It's imprinted on documents to prove their authenticity. It validates dollars, passports and identifies counterfeit. In this case, it's the essence of a human being. In this moment, I am seeing my watermark, when the world is still and I am alone. It has been years.

I gather my belongings to leave. As I walk away, I look up and see my watermark still there radiating among the illuminated leaves. Someone whispers, "Stop hiding it." I turn towards the whisper; my hat blows off in the wind. No one is there.

I feel the corners of my mouth turn up as I look towards the sky. Staring at birds flying in the blue space, I realize that I must live defined by my watermark. I need to see it each day, hear its wisdom and trust in its abilities-lending myself to it's power. I must submit...

...because it is the essence of me and where the One that created me resides.