No! It's a superfood!! Able to cure cancer and diabetes in a single bound! Destroy fat! Improve moods! Orchestrate world peace!!
... ...
Ok, so that last one might not be so true; and to be honest, most of the other claims are suspect as well. Any time someone claims that a single anything (food, job, class, movie, drug) is able to change your life, it should raise some red flags. Or at least some questions.
Most lists of superfoods (Oprah's had one, Dr. Gupta had one, the AOL newsfeed had one) make me roll my eyes. "You mean whole grains are better than processed ones? No way!" "And you say that the darker the fruits and vegetables the more vitamins and minerals? Well, that's just crazy talk!" These lists invariably include blueberries and pomegranates (for their many antioxidants and phyto-whatevers); less-popular (but still delicious) grains like barley, kasha, and quinoa; dark, leafy greens like chard, spinach, and kale; and fermented foods like miso. Now, I'm not knocking the health benefits of including these foods in your diet, it's just that, as a vegan, these are the things I'm eating every day. To me a superfood should be something not necessarily available in the grocery store, maybe something you've never even heard of before, something, well, super.
Aparently, I'm not the only vegan/raw foodie who thinks like this either. Many of the magazines/websites I read distinguish between "mainstream" or "conventional" superfoods and capital-lettered, excalmation-pointed, SuperFoods!! Often I suspect this a way of maintaining exclusivity/exoticness within a lifestyle that is quickly becoming more common. A way to prove moreover one's committment to the diet. Anyone can pop into Kroger for a pint of blueberries or a bunch of chard. It takes real dedication to find a place/webstore that sells Camu or Lacuma or Yacon. Like I've said before, I'm not one to eat something just because it's good for me, but I do like to try new things.
One of the first SF's I tried was Goji Berries. Not necessarily because I believed the hype (someone living for 250 years solely based on his daily consumtion of goji berry tea is a little far-fetched, even for me); or the labels (the successful marketing campaign calling them "Himalayan" or "Tibetan" just goes to show how many hippies are still swayed by advertising - most Gojis come from China), but because I'm a sucker for dried fruit. Oh, how I love dried fruit. And the gojis do taste pretty good, though it's a difficult flavor to describe. Powdery-sweet sort of. Or like a stale (but not spoiled) cherry fruit-roll-up. If craisins taste glossy (and in my mind, they do), then goji berries taste matte. I am currently looking for my very excellent Lemon-Goji Berry Muffin recipe and I will post it as soon as I find it. From what I remember, though, it was a basic lemon muffin recipe (lemon juice, some zest, vanilla, etc.) with gojis thrown in as you would frozen blueberries. Those were pretty super muffins.
My latest SF is Maca. Like many SF's, maca comes from South America where it was cultivated by the Incas because of it's ability to grow at high altitudes. Plus, it aparently has aphrodisiacal properties. There's a legend about Incan warriors using maca to get themselves ready for battle and the townspeople having to hide all the maidens upon the warriors' return since they were still so virile and "pumped." It's like the Andean version of a baby boom. Disregarding the mythology and the hype, I really do like maca. Like the gojis, it has a difficult-to-describe taste. It's not bitter but it's not sweet either. It kind of has an earthy taste to it. Maybe like a carrot or a sweet potato - but also, nothing like either of those. Weird.
I have experimented with maca powder in several dishes (juice: blech, soups: indifferent) but have found it blends best with strong, fatty flavors. A tablespoon of maca powder with a banana-carob smoothie. A sprinkle of the powder on almond-butter-filled celery sticks. And so on.
But nothing, and I mean nothing compares to my new favorite post-workout drink. I could drink this every day for a week and not get tired of it. I found the original recipe at a SuperFoods webstore and have been tweaking it as I see fit. The closest thing I can compare it to is a Wendy's Frosty: airy, vaguely chocolately, cold and icy. Here's the basic recipe.
Macashew Frosty
1/4 - 1/2 cup raw cashews
1 heaping tablespoon maca powder
1/2 teaspoon (or more) vanilla
1 cup nutmilk/coconut water/filtered water
1/4 cup date paste or 4-5 whole dates soaked an hour or more
2 cups ice
In a blender, pulse the cashews until they are finely chopped.
Add the maca, vanilla, and half the liquid. Blend well.
Add the date paste and the remaining liquid and blend very well, scraping the sides if necessary.
Add the ice and blend on high until smooth and combined. Add a little more liquid if needed to facilitate blending.
Possible variations: 2 heaping tablespoons of raw honey instead of date paste. Use chocolate nutmilk for a more chocolately shake. Half the vanilla and add a 1/4 tsp of almond extract.
So the next time the Spanish invade your empire looking for gold and trying to convert you to Catholicism, drink up a belnderful of maca smoothie and march headfirst into the fray.
Just behave yourself around the townspeople when you return.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
On Getting Lost
I recently finished The Terror, a fictionalized re-telling of the lost Franklin Expedition to find the Northwest Passage in the mid-1800's. It was gripping and made me want to be a sailor in Her Majesty's Royal Navy.
I recently skimmed an article in this month's GQ discussing the pervasiveness of GPS systems and the decline in actual maps. I only skimmed because I can't stand the sort of scolding tone authors take when they are reminiscing about the "good old days;" the self-indulgence of placing themselves among a select and dying breed who "remember when."
And so, I've been thinking about being and getting lost.
A few times a week I go on Wandering Bike Rides. I just pick a direction and start pedaling, choosing roads and turns at random. These WBR's are much more interesting in Athens than they were in Marion where all the county roads are basically set up in a grid. That, and despite living in Athens for almost 3 years (and being a bi-monthly visitor for 2 years before that), I still don't have my internal compass configured for SE Ohio. It's like there's a giant magnet underneath Court Street that sets my needle spinning. Or maybe it's the fact that State Street runs parallel and perpendicular to Court, or that you have to go south to go north on the highway. Either way, unless I'm standing in front of my apartment or the sun is rising/setting on a clear day, I couldn't find north by northwest no matter how insistently James Mason asked.
When I set out on these bike rides it's usually just me, my water bottle, and occasionally the i-pod. Roomie and my parents are constantly admonishing me to take my cell phone but where's the fun in that? Chances are there wouldn't be any service as far out into the country as I ride anyway. And so I have little moments of discovery and adventure and occasional panic.
I have discovered New Marshfield and Fox Lake and an llama farm.
I have discovered (often when it's too late to hop off my bike and walk) some of the steepest, gravel-covered hills I've seen outside of Tibetan documentaries.
I have had dogs chase me, squirrels attempt to trip me, cows and horses and chickens and people on farm equipment watch me with indifferent and/or bemused eyes.
I have been caught in the rain; in the snow; having to walk two miles back to town with a flat.
I have gotten up close to 40MPH riding down hill only to realize later that people have died in car crashes at that speed and they're buckled into steel cages.
But I've never been really lost. Oh, there have been times that I didn't really know where I was; didn't know if turning left or right would lead me closer or farther from home, but turning around and backtracking was always a possibility. Sometimes I'll get to the top of a hill and be able to see for miles around me and I'll try to imagine what it must have felt like when there were no roads cutting through, no farmland breaks in the forest. I've ridden through some densely-wooded areas and I think it must have been awful and awe-ful and wonderful and terrible to be faced with miles and miles of the unknown and nothing but your own legs to move you forward and your own curiosity that keeps you from turning back.
I know it is for me.
I recently skimmed an article in this month's GQ discussing the pervasiveness of GPS systems and the decline in actual maps. I only skimmed because I can't stand the sort of scolding tone authors take when they are reminiscing about the "good old days;" the self-indulgence of placing themselves among a select and dying breed who "remember when."
And so, I've been thinking about being and getting lost.
A few times a week I go on Wandering Bike Rides. I just pick a direction and start pedaling, choosing roads and turns at random. These WBR's are much more interesting in Athens than they were in Marion where all the county roads are basically set up in a grid. That, and despite living in Athens for almost 3 years (and being a bi-monthly visitor for 2 years before that), I still don't have my internal compass configured for SE Ohio. It's like there's a giant magnet underneath Court Street that sets my needle spinning. Or maybe it's the fact that State Street runs parallel and perpendicular to Court, or that you have to go south to go north on the highway. Either way, unless I'm standing in front of my apartment or the sun is rising/setting on a clear day, I couldn't find north by northwest no matter how insistently James Mason asked.
When I set out on these bike rides it's usually just me, my water bottle, and occasionally the i-pod. Roomie and my parents are constantly admonishing me to take my cell phone but where's the fun in that? Chances are there wouldn't be any service as far out into the country as I ride anyway. And so I have little moments of discovery and adventure and occasional panic.
I have discovered New Marshfield and Fox Lake and an llama farm.
I have discovered (often when it's too late to hop off my bike and walk) some of the steepest, gravel-covered hills I've seen outside of Tibetan documentaries.
I have had dogs chase me, squirrels attempt to trip me, cows and horses and chickens and people on farm equipment watch me with indifferent and/or bemused eyes.
I have been caught in the rain; in the snow; having to walk two miles back to town with a flat.
I have gotten up close to 40MPH riding down hill only to realize later that people have died in car crashes at that speed and they're buckled into steel cages.
But I've never been really lost. Oh, there have been times that I didn't really know where I was; didn't know if turning left or right would lead me closer or farther from home, but turning around and backtracking was always a possibility. Sometimes I'll get to the top of a hill and be able to see for miles around me and I'll try to imagine what it must have felt like when there were no roads cutting through, no farmland breaks in the forest. I've ridden through some densely-wooded areas and I think it must have been awful and awe-ful and wonderful and terrible to be faced with miles and miles of the unknown and nothing but your own legs to move you forward and your own curiosity that keeps you from turning back.
I know it is for me.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
BabyCakes
I have never been fond of babies; as the third oldest of 14 cousins there were plenty of babies around to be less than fond of. I adore all my cousins now that they are graduating from high school and old enough to joke and hang around and watch R-rated movies, but back in the day I'd just as soon pop my eye out with a spoon as play with a bunch of toddlers.
My youngest cousins, J and The Demon Baby, however, are the slight exceptions to the rule. Born when I was 21 and 24 respectively, J and TDB are major players in my life and I go out of my way to spend time with them. This isn't to say that I want to go out and start having dozens of my own (quite the contrary) but knowing babies as an adult is very different then meeting them as an adolescent.
In addition to spending the weekend with J and TDB (for the latter's third birthday party), I also attended my first baby shower. I spent 4 hours decorating onesies (fun) surrounded by women who all seemed to love and adore babies (strange and slightly alienating since I still can't really stand babies I'm not related to).
As I get older, I've been dreading the moment when I'll hear my biological clock ticking and suddenly desire a baby more than anything else in the world. It seems logical that it would happen at a 3-year-old's birthday party (watching a bunch of toddlers eat cake with their hands is pretty cute if you're not the one in charge of cleaning them up) or a baby shower (there's a lot of estrogen at a baby shower; it's why I've heretofore avoided them). So far, no clock.
What was ticking this weekend was my internal clock that tells me it's been too long since I made any cookies. Finding a cookie recipe that didn't require vegan butter or soymilk (both banished in the raw-ification of my kitchen) took a bit of doing, but I was able to cobble together a pretty delicious cake-like cookie with the ingredients I did have in my cupboards.
Double Chocolate Raspberry BabyCakes
My youngest cousins, J and The Demon Baby, however, are the slight exceptions to the rule. Born when I was 21 and 24 respectively, J and TDB are major players in my life and I go out of my way to spend time with them. This isn't to say that I want to go out and start having dozens of my own (quite the contrary) but knowing babies as an adult is very different then meeting them as an adolescent.
In addition to spending the weekend with J and TDB (for the latter's third birthday party), I also attended my first baby shower. I spent 4 hours decorating onesies (fun) surrounded by women who all seemed to love and adore babies (strange and slightly alienating since I still can't really stand babies I'm not related to).
As I get older, I've been dreading the moment when I'll hear my biological clock ticking and suddenly desire a baby more than anything else in the world. It seems logical that it would happen at a 3-year-old's birthday party (watching a bunch of toddlers eat cake with their hands is pretty cute if you're not the one in charge of cleaning them up) or a baby shower (there's a lot of estrogen at a baby shower; it's why I've heretofore avoided them). So far, no clock.
What was ticking this weekend was my internal clock that tells me it's been too long since I made any cookies. Finding a cookie recipe that didn't require vegan butter or soymilk (both banished in the raw-ification of my kitchen) took a bit of doing, but I was able to cobble together a pretty delicious cake-like cookie with the ingredients I did have in my cupboards.
Double Chocolate Raspberry BabyCakes
1 container fresh raspberries (I think it was a pint)
1 cup sugar
1/3 cup canola oil
1 tsp vanilla
1 tsp almond extract
rounded 1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
2 rounded tbs dark cocoa powder
1 3/4 cup all-purpose flour
3/4 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
In a large bowl, mix together the raspberries, sugar, oil, and extracts. Use a fork to really break up all the berries until it reaches a watery consistency.
In a seperate bowl, sift together the dry ingredients. Add to the wet in three or four batches mixing well inbetween each batch. Don't use an electric mixer for this one. The dough gets pretty thick so a wooden spoon or large plastic fork (like I have) works best.
Roll the dough into half-dollar sized balls and then flatten them into 2-2 1/2 inch disks. Place on a lightly greased cookie sheet about 1/2 inch apart (they don't spread out at all). Bake for ten minutes. Do not overbake the cookies. Burny chocolate makes babies cry. Leave sit on the tray for about 5 minutes. While still warm on the tray, dust the tops with powdered sugar. Transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.
These were quite a hit at the shower. They have a texture somewhere between cake and cookie, soft and chocolately. I could easily make these bite-sized for a more refined looking dessert or replace the powdered sugar with a drizzle of icing. Possible negative: the seeds from the fresh raspberries. I actually liked having the seeds in the cookies. I think it made them taste even fresher, kinda like a chocolate dipped raspberry or a Godiva truffle. I can see, though, how some people might not dig it.
Had I the time, I would have dyed the powdered sugar blue in honor of the soon-to-be-born Thatcher. And like all good moms know, nothin' says lovin' like colored powdered sugar.
Hmm. Perhaps it's for the best that I don't have any kids.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Sweets For the Sweet
For your entertainment, a diologue:
Imaginary Reader: Man! Enough already with the existential posts about the meaning of diet! They are bumming me out! What happened to all the delicious recipes? The kitchen hijinks? Too lazy to cook lately?
Me: Hey! I've still been in the kitchen turning out delicious foodstuffs...It's just that all this "why I eat the way I do" stuff has been weighing on my mind. I figured this was a relatively appropriate venue for working through it all.
I.R.: Yeah, well, you figured wrong. So how about you make with the cheese and leave the whine alone.
Me: You know, I don't think people who use awful puns like that have the right to judge someone else's writing...I'm just saying... But you are right. It is high time for some recipes.
***
For the past week's road trip to Philly, I made two different sweet snacks to munch on in the car. Fresh fruits and veggies are great to stay hydrated (something I have a problem with when I travel) but it's not advisable to tuck into a salad behind the wheel.
This first recipe (my version of the "Cranberry Maple Granola" from Raw Food, Real World) requires a little more prep and dehydration time but is definitely worth it. I may never eat cereal from a box again.
Grawnola
1/2 apple (any kind, but I've used Granny Smith the last two times), cored and chopped
3/4 cup date paste (see below for date paste recipe)
1/4 cup honey, maple syrup, or agave
1 tbs lemon juice
1/2 tbs vanilla
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp sea salt
1/4 sunflower seeds
1 cup almonds
1 1/2 pecans or walnuts
1/2 cup pumpkin seeds
To make date paste, soak dates in water for at least 45 minutes. Drain the dates, saving about 1/2 cup of the soaking water to facilitate blending. Remove the pits from the dates and blend until smooth. Add water as needed. This paste will keep for at least a two weeks in the fridge and is a great sweetener.
Soak all the nuts in plenty of water for at least 4 hours. I usually let them sit overnight.
In a blender, process the apple, date paste, honey/syrup, lemon juice, vanilla, cinnamon, and salt until completely smooth and liquid-y. Add warm water by the tablespoon (or date-soak water if you have any left) if it seems to be too thick to blend. Transfer to a large mixing bowl.
In a food processor or dryblade blender, coarsely chop the nuts. Depending on how big your processor/blender you may need to do this in batches. Depending on how you like your cereal, you might want to do a batch finely chopped and one coarsely chopped, give it a little texture.
Add the nuts to the mixing bowl and stir well to coat all the nuts with the apple mixture. Spread the grawnola mix onto parchment-paper-lined dehydrator trays and dehydrate overnight. Remove the grawnola from the paper and dehydrate for another 8-12 hours. Break into small pieces and store in the fridge for a couple of hours to really crisp up the grawnola. Serve with nutmilk (it stays really crunchy!) or, like I do, eat it straight from the box.
For dessert on the road and in the hotel, I made chocolate macaroons. In the past, I've made "blondie" versions of this cookie by replacing the cocoa powder with a heaping 1 1/2 cup of almond flour. Both delicious, both deadly.
Raw Macaroons
3 cups dried, unsweetened coconut flakes
1 1/2 cups cocoa powder (or almond flour)
1 cup maple syrup
1/3 cup coconut butter (make sure it's at room temp to make mixing easier)
1 tbs vanilla
1/2 tsp sea salt
Put all the ingredients in a very big bowl and stir until well combined.
Using a mini ice cream scoop, melon baller, tablespoon measuring spoon, or your hands, scoop out the batter onto dehydrator trays (no need to line them unless you really want to). These need about 24 hours in the dehydrator. They are done when the outside is crisp and the middle is still a little chewy.
These are really delicious, versatile cookies (Pap ate them with milk, Mom ate them with wine, Roomie crumbled them over ice cream), the recipe is super easy (one bowl clean up!), and any cookie that doesn't require me to turn the oven on in my non-AC apartment in the summer is aces in my book.
When I get back from this weekend's excursions, I'm going to experiment with making my own walnut flour, omitting the coconut butter in favor of flavored oils or pureed fruit (strawberries, maybe?), honey instead of maple syrup etc.
So there you go, Imaginary Reader. A couple of summer-ready, road-trip-friendly raw desserts. If that doesn't make you happy, stick your face inside the chocolate macaroon bowl and lick it clean.
If that doesn't help, perhaps you can stick other things other places and stop bringing me down, Frowny McCrankerson. Geez.
Imaginary Reader: Man! Enough already with the existential posts about the meaning of diet! They are bumming me out! What happened to all the delicious recipes? The kitchen hijinks? Too lazy to cook lately?
Me: Hey! I've still been in the kitchen turning out delicious foodstuffs...It's just that all this "why I eat the way I do" stuff has been weighing on my mind. I figured this was a relatively appropriate venue for working through it all.
I.R.: Yeah, well, you figured wrong. So how about you make with the cheese and leave the whine alone.
Me: You know, I don't think people who use awful puns like that have the right to judge someone else's writing...I'm just saying... But you are right. It is high time for some recipes.
***
For the past week's road trip to Philly, I made two different sweet snacks to munch on in the car. Fresh fruits and veggies are great to stay hydrated (something I have a problem with when I travel) but it's not advisable to tuck into a salad behind the wheel.
This first recipe (my version of the "Cranberry Maple Granola" from Raw Food, Real World) requires a little more prep and dehydration time but is definitely worth it. I may never eat cereal from a box again.
Grawnola
1/2 apple (any kind, but I've used Granny Smith the last two times), cored and chopped
3/4 cup date paste (see below for date paste recipe)
1/4 cup honey, maple syrup, or agave
1 tbs lemon juice
1/2 tbs vanilla
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp sea salt
1/4 sunflower seeds
1 cup almonds
1 1/2 pecans or walnuts
1/2 cup pumpkin seeds
To make date paste, soak dates in water for at least 45 minutes. Drain the dates, saving about 1/2 cup of the soaking water to facilitate blending. Remove the pits from the dates and blend until smooth. Add water as needed. This paste will keep for at least a two weeks in the fridge and is a great sweetener.
Soak all the nuts in plenty of water for at least 4 hours. I usually let them sit overnight.
In a blender, process the apple, date paste, honey/syrup, lemon juice, vanilla, cinnamon, and salt until completely smooth and liquid-y. Add warm water by the tablespoon (or date-soak water if you have any left) if it seems to be too thick to blend. Transfer to a large mixing bowl.
In a food processor or dryblade blender, coarsely chop the nuts. Depending on how big your processor/blender you may need to do this in batches. Depending on how you like your cereal, you might want to do a batch finely chopped and one coarsely chopped, give it a little texture.
Add the nuts to the mixing bowl and stir well to coat all the nuts with the apple mixture. Spread the grawnola mix onto parchment-paper-lined dehydrator trays and dehydrate overnight. Remove the grawnola from the paper and dehydrate for another 8-12 hours. Break into small pieces and store in the fridge for a couple of hours to really crisp up the grawnola. Serve with nutmilk (it stays really crunchy!) or, like I do, eat it straight from the box.
For dessert on the road and in the hotel, I made chocolate macaroons. In the past, I've made "blondie" versions of this cookie by replacing the cocoa powder with a heaping 1 1/2 cup of almond flour. Both delicious, both deadly.
Raw Macaroons
3 cups dried, unsweetened coconut flakes
1 1/2 cups cocoa powder (or almond flour)
1 cup maple syrup
1/3 cup coconut butter (make sure it's at room temp to make mixing easier)
1 tbs vanilla
1/2 tsp sea salt
Put all the ingredients in a very big bowl and stir until well combined.
Using a mini ice cream scoop, melon baller, tablespoon measuring spoon, or your hands, scoop out the batter onto dehydrator trays (no need to line them unless you really want to). These need about 24 hours in the dehydrator. They are done when the outside is crisp and the middle is still a little chewy.
These are really delicious, versatile cookies (Pap ate them with milk, Mom ate them with wine, Roomie crumbled them over ice cream), the recipe is super easy (one bowl clean up!), and any cookie that doesn't require me to turn the oven on in my non-AC apartment in the summer is aces in my book.
When I get back from this weekend's excursions, I'm going to experiment with making my own walnut flour, omitting the coconut butter in favor of flavored oils or pureed fruit (strawberries, maybe?), honey instead of maple syrup etc.
So there you go, Imaginary Reader. A couple of summer-ready, road-trip-friendly raw desserts. If that doesn't make you happy, stick your face inside the chocolate macaroon bowl and lick it clean.
If that doesn't help, perhaps you can stick other things other places and stop bringing me down, Frowny McCrankerson. Geez.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
The Weekend of Living Cooked-ly
Following yet another trip to Philadelphia (this time to drop roomie off for a summer-long elite rowing camp at Penn AC ), I spent a weekend at home, visiting family and attending graduation parties.
A couple of observations therefrom:
- Large family gatherings are far more enjoyable with a beer in your hand.
- My cousins, all of whom I remember being born and ripping into Christmas presents like over-caffienated wolverines, are graduating from high school. My cuz kept introducing me to all her just-graduated friends as her "cousin who teaches college" and they all look at me like I've got the secrets of the acadmic universe in my back pocket. This is one of those moments where I realize I'm really 27; and even if I don't feel like a grown-up-with-a-career, that's what I look like to the rest of the world.
- My youngest set of cousins, though, won't graduate from high school for another 12 years. I will be 40. I can only imagine how they will be introducing me at that point. Ri-to-the-diculous.
I was able to be raw the whole time in Philly, but following the All-Raw Breakdown, I wanted to eat some cooked foods, see if that had any effect on my mood/mindset. I started with some cooked veggies and then had cooked pasta for dinner Saturday night and cooked rice on Sunday. They were both good (I used raw sauces and put plenty of raw veg on both), but I could definitely tell the difference in my digestion. It didn't make me sick (the way eating real dairy products and eggs does) but it was a different kind of full. I felt full quicker and longer, but I was not really any more sated. And because the cooked food was conveniently made by my mom in large quantities, I found myself eating more and longer. But was I any less breakdown-y? Not really. Well, I was but I think it had more to do with finally getting Roomie moved out/in and being done with grading, knowing for sure I'm teaching in the fall, the sunny weather, getting to love up on my dog for a few days, the new season of True Blood etc. than it did with what I was eating.
Now I'm back in Athens. My little apartment seems huge with just me rattling around in it. I don't have the fundage to be running my AC 24/7 so I have a fan that keeps things cool and breezy. And what I find myself craving - literally ravenous at the thought of - is fresh, raw foods. After eating cooked foods for two nights, I can't even remember why I thought I needed it. I just want cold salads and smoothies, lots of green lemonade and raw iced tea. It helps that even boiling water on the stovetop jacks up the temperature in my teeny kitchen to 80 degrees or higher.
So after a two-meal lapse, I'm back to 100% raw. I don't even want to call it a lapse because that sounds like something negative and I'm trying to avoid slipping back into that mentality. It was a break. A little vacation from being all raw.
And suddenly going back to everyday life doesn't seem so daunting.
A couple of observations therefrom:
- Large family gatherings are far more enjoyable with a beer in your hand.
- My cousins, all of whom I remember being born and ripping into Christmas presents like over-caffienated wolverines, are graduating from high school. My cuz kept introducing me to all her just-graduated friends as her "cousin who teaches college" and they all look at me like I've got the secrets of the acadmic universe in my back pocket. This is one of those moments where I realize I'm really 27; and even if I don't feel like a grown-up-with-a-career, that's what I look like to the rest of the world.
- My youngest set of cousins, though, won't graduate from high school for another 12 years. I will be 40. I can only imagine how they will be introducing me at that point. Ri-to-the-diculous.
I was able to be raw the whole time in Philly, but following the All-Raw Breakdown, I wanted to eat some cooked foods, see if that had any effect on my mood/mindset. I started with some cooked veggies and then had cooked pasta for dinner Saturday night and cooked rice on Sunday. They were both good (I used raw sauces and put plenty of raw veg on both), but I could definitely tell the difference in my digestion. It didn't make me sick (the way eating real dairy products and eggs does) but it was a different kind of full. I felt full quicker and longer, but I was not really any more sated. And because the cooked food was conveniently made by my mom in large quantities, I found myself eating more and longer. But was I any less breakdown-y? Not really. Well, I was but I think it had more to do with finally getting Roomie moved out/in and being done with grading, knowing for sure I'm teaching in the fall, the sunny weather, getting to love up on my dog for a few days, the new season of True Blood etc. than it did with what I was eating.
Now I'm back in Athens. My little apartment seems huge with just me rattling around in it. I don't have the fundage to be running my AC 24/7 so I have a fan that keeps things cool and breezy. And what I find myself craving - literally ravenous at the thought of - is fresh, raw foods. After eating cooked foods for two nights, I can't even remember why I thought I needed it. I just want cold salads and smoothies, lots of green lemonade and raw iced tea. It helps that even boiling water on the stovetop jacks up the temperature in my teeny kitchen to 80 degrees or higher.
So after a two-meal lapse, I'm back to 100% raw. I don't even want to call it a lapse because that sounds like something negative and I'm trying to avoid slipping back into that mentality. It was a break. A little vacation from being all raw.
And suddenly going back to everyday life doesn't seem so daunting.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
What Fevered Dream
This past Saturday was the two-month mark of 'The Great Raw Food Experimentacular of Aught Nine.'
How did I celebrate such an auspicious occasion?
Why, by having a mini-freak-out-break-down of course! This one was fabulous; definitely one of my better to-do's: Wailing around in my kitchen, slamming open cupboards full of food that I can't eat, banging around pans I don't use, cursing my dehydrator, blaming raw food for everything wrong with my life, glaring at the blender, bemoaning my lack of weight loss, stomping in place because I couldn't figure out why I was hungry. I'm talking full-on, Joan-Crawford-with-a-hanger antics.
After all of that though (and a long, soothing bike ride with Roomie), I realized that perhaps some re-evaluation-ing was in order.
It's been two months or longer since I had any bread, pasta, or rice. At least that long since I had store-bought anything. No cereal, no crackers, no chips, pretzals, candy, cookies. I haven't had any ice cream. No pizza. Hell, I haven't had anything warmer than room temperature since April 1. And it's not that I really miss any of that, rather, I'm getting a little bit bored. At the same time though, I'm also feeling overwhelmed by the daily work required to maintain this lifestyle. Ever been bored and overwhelmed at the same time? It's a strange feeling. Add to that a soupcon of guilt at the thought of not finishing something I started (even a something that has no measurable end), and you have my mindset during the aforementioned rant.
Honestly, I'm feeling a little bit like an addict. It isn't so much that I suddenly don't like raw food or want to quit my lifestyle completely. Instead it's the slightly panic-inducing feeling that I can't quit. I don't know how. One of my best qualities is my will-power. When I so choose, I can force myself to do/not do just about anything. I once sat in a school desk, completely still, staring at a single place on the wall in front of me for two hours just to see how long I could be still. Sometimes that will-power takes on a life of its own, though. The little voice in the back of my head that says, "you know what's better than 3 months straight? Four months! And you know, 6 months is even better! A nice round, half-way number. And hell if you're gonna do it for half, you might as well go for the whole!" I rarely start things that I do not finish; I rarely start things I cannot finish.
***
So, in an attempt to take some control back from my megalomaniacal will power I'm going into raw rehab. Instead of methadone I'll be using slightly cooked vegetables and sprouted grain breads to help balance things out a little bit. Your diet should never have more control over your life than you do. Doing anything at the extreme end of a spectrum is exciting but you can't let it consume you.
But worry not, friends and enemies, there are still plenty of raw tales to tell. Coming soon: fun with raw gronola! "refried" almond pate! Sprouted rye crackers! Maca powder smoothies!
And hopefully, far fewer breakdowns.
How did I celebrate such an auspicious occasion?
Why, by having a mini-freak-out-break-down of course! This one was fabulous; definitely one of my better to-do's: Wailing around in my kitchen, slamming open cupboards full of food that I can't eat, banging around pans I don't use, cursing my dehydrator, blaming raw food for everything wrong with my life, glaring at the blender, bemoaning my lack of weight loss, stomping in place because I couldn't figure out why I was hungry. I'm talking full-on, Joan-Crawford-with-a-hanger antics.
After all of that though (and a long, soothing bike ride with Roomie), I realized that perhaps some re-evaluation-ing was in order.
It's been two months or longer since I had any bread, pasta, or rice. At least that long since I had store-bought anything. No cereal, no crackers, no chips, pretzals, candy, cookies. I haven't had any ice cream. No pizza. Hell, I haven't had anything warmer than room temperature since April 1. And it's not that I really miss any of that, rather, I'm getting a little bit bored. At the same time though, I'm also feeling overwhelmed by the daily work required to maintain this lifestyle. Ever been bored and overwhelmed at the same time? It's a strange feeling. Add to that a soupcon of guilt at the thought of not finishing something I started (even a something that has no measurable end), and you have my mindset during the aforementioned rant.
Honestly, I'm feeling a little bit like an addict. It isn't so much that I suddenly don't like raw food or want to quit my lifestyle completely. Instead it's the slightly panic-inducing feeling that I can't quit. I don't know how. One of my best qualities is my will-power. When I so choose, I can force myself to do/not do just about anything. I once sat in a school desk, completely still, staring at a single place on the wall in front of me for two hours just to see how long I could be still. Sometimes that will-power takes on a life of its own, though. The little voice in the back of my head that says, "you know what's better than 3 months straight? Four months! And you know, 6 months is even better! A nice round, half-way number. And hell if you're gonna do it for half, you might as well go for the whole!" I rarely start things that I do not finish; I rarely start things I cannot finish.
***
So, in an attempt to take some control back from my megalomaniacal will power I'm going into raw rehab. Instead of methadone I'll be using slightly cooked vegetables and sprouted grain breads to help balance things out a little bit. Your diet should never have more control over your life than you do. Doing anything at the extreme end of a spectrum is exciting but you can't let it consume you.
But worry not, friends and enemies, there are still plenty of raw tales to tell. Coming soon: fun with raw gronola! "refried" almond pate! Sprouted rye crackers! Maca powder smoothies!
And hopefully, far fewer breakdowns.
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