Redemption by way of a summer meal

Tonight I arrived home with an upset tummy and a frustrated brain. Despite the heat, I followed through on my commitment to run (after playing with my panting puppy, Bryce). And, after a grueling 3.4 miles of trying to rally my brain and my legs to work together, I finished satisfied with my efforts yet not unwound.

I was, however, ravenous.

Now the single revelation that came to me today through my sweaty slogging was "chickpeas". That's it- chickpeas. Miraculously, in stretching out my legs my brain also stretched out and I imagined chickpeas with artichokes, in some light summer dressing with a little arugula tossed in for good measure and color.

A quick search on the trusty Android later and I had a Vegetarian Times recipe in hand. Not having all of the ingredients I made my own modifications and beefed it up a little to my tastes (and appetite). Behold, I present to you, Citrus Chickpea Salad.

Salad:

1 1/2 cups chickpeas

32 oz can whole peeled plum tomatoes

3 cups artichoke hearts (can use frozen or canned in water)

Citrus dressing:

2 Tbsp lemon juice

2 Tbsp olive oil

1 tsp dijon mustard

1 clove garlic, finely chopped

1/4 cup basil, chopped

Directions:

1. Drain and rinse chickpeas. Place in large serving bowl (preferable something pretty)

2. Drain tomatoes and discard juice. Roughly chop tomatoes. Add to chickpeas.

3. Defrost (if necessary) OR drain and rinse (if necessary) artichoke hearts. Add to bowl.

4. In a small dish mix ingredients for dressing. Once mixed, pour over chickpea blend.

5. Toss dressing with chickpea blend.

6. Serve 1 cup of Citrus Chickpea Salad atop 1 cup arugula and top with 2oz cooked rigatoni.

7. Enjoy :)

For Weight Watchers folks, 1 cup of chickpea mixture is 7 PointsPlus. With the arugula and rigatoni, the meal is 9 PointsPlus and very filling. Lots of protein.

Now, it was 8:30pm before I when I started prepping this meal. And, as I had to defrost the artichokes and didn't think to start heating the water for rigatoni (a Jo-inspired addition) until after the salad was created, I didn't sit down to eat until 9:15pm. But, amazingly, throughout that time my mind quieted and my body relaxed. And while I'm sure my run, post-run shower, and chat with my mum all aided to that effect, I'm convinced that this salad is redemptive. The velvety, freshly picked basil mixed with the sharp, tangy garlic smells undid all the knots in my brain and settled my heart. And, you can believe that I enjoyed every last bite.

I enjoyed my dinner and the process creating it so much, that I was also satisfied with a mere sensation of dessert- 1/4 cup strawberry ice-cream with a little spray cream. A 2 PointsPlus delight made richer by the ability to simply enjoy it with my being instead of eating it to calm my mind. For those of you who know me intimately, you understand that dessert is rarely something I enjoy in small portions and is often something I use to cope with stress.

I wonder if the undoing of eating disorders is to be found in the cooking of inspired meals because, tonight, I feel redeemed.

Recipe yumminess

Just made WW Roasted Tomato Enchiladas for dinner. They're in the oven and smell absolutely fantastic!

Imagine, tofu, black beans and roasted corn (my addition) wrapped up inside whole wheat tortillas and topped with a chunky green chile-tomato sauce. Oh Mexi-veggie yumminess.

Let's hope they taste as good as they smell!!!

What comes first: the chicken or the vegetarian?

I am having my first vegetarian crisis.

No. I'm not jonesing for a juicy black and blue burger, cooked to medium pink perfection. And while memories of sizzlin' summer bbq still tickle my cilia, I do not wish to tear off strips from smoked baby-back ribs. I'm not desirous of bangers and mash...or chips. No want for thinly sliced steak n' cheese.

No, I'm not falling off the veggie wagon. Rather, I feel that I'm becoming a leading member of the caravan.

It started last fall around September. All summer long I enjoyed shrimp and scallops. Grilled and served straight up. Sauteed in garlic and olive oil. Boiled in spicy jambalaya. Stuffed in plump ravioli. I enjoyed these sea creatures all summer long. No pain. No guilt. Just low-point protein satisfaction. And then the fall came and on a trip to Vermont for work I visited a local restaurant renowned for it's fine seafood. I ordered a shrimp and scallop pasta and was delighted to be served a large bowl with jumbo shrimp and golf-ball sized scallops. I dug in with gusto, but retreated after 1 shrimp and 1 scallop. I thought perhaps they were too large. Too meaty. I was confused. I blamed it on root vegetable season and hibernation.

Not to be foiled, when my mother visited in early November I signed up for another shrimp pasta. Ravioli. And what do you know, when ground and spiced, mixed with ricotta and hidden in ravioli, shrimp is unidentifiable. I made it through the dish.

Heartened, I determined to take on shrimp again at Thanksgiving. Shrimp ring appetizer with cocktail sauce. I dove in, grabbed a mini-shrimp smaller than the first nub of my pinkie finger and popped it in my mouth

I regretted it immediately, dove for my wine glass, and washed away the nausea with a good swig of Cabernet sauvignon. I haven't touched a tail since. Or a scallop.

I've been okay with my lack of seafood until now. Until this week.

This week, when siting down to eat breakfast- potatoes and egg (over-easy) I found myself thinking of baby chickens. Baby chickens. And me about to dig into a perfectly over-easy egg yolk. Being the staunch Brit I am, I dug in, chewed and willed myself not to think about fluffy yellow baby chickens. I made it through the egg.

This past Monday I found myself once again at the mercy of baby chicken imagery when offered a baked egg for breakfast by a dear friend (and Fine Cooking aficionado). Again, my staunch British side (and well-bred politeness) led me to close my eyes, swallow and....enjoy-ish. Thankfully they were hard-baked, and so reminded my less of baby chickens. This morning, as I pondered what to eat post-run for breakfast I once again was stuck in baby chicken mode.

So I had baked potato and baked beans. Not potato and egg. I ate supper for breakfast.

I'm not sure what's going on. I didn't become vegetarian because I'm an animal-loving softie. I like leather bags and shoes. I love cheese and milk. I love[d?] eggs. I became vegetarian nearly 3 years ago purely for reasons of health and ease post-cancer and new girlfriend (a veggie of 10+years who LOVES to cook). No other reason. So I'm having trouble understanding my recent distaste for seafood and eggs AND the live-animal imagery that is plaguing me when I try to eat either.

So what comes first: the chicken or the vegetarian? [Sadly?] in this case I think it's both. The chicken gets to have it's egg and the vegetarian, well, she gets to enjoy tofu-scrambles.

Reunion with Be-Ro

That's what happened tonight. It was the least dramatic reunion I've ever been too- no tears, no past grudges, no memories of ill-worn fashion. Just pure joy. Fond times. Sweet memories. Savored (and savory) moments.

Are you the least bit interested yet? Well, if not, quit reading, because for the next 10 minutes I'm going to share my evening with you. You, me and the Be-Ro book.

Yes, that's right. I typed it. The Be-Ro book. Now, for those non-British folks out there you likely have no clue what I'm talking about; unless of course you're married to one of us OR you've spent some time in the old country immersing yourself in "the culture" (you Anglophiles you!). No matter, I'll introduce you to my old friend the Be-Ro book, who tonight was rescued from the dusty space between Martha Stewart and Delia Smith, almost lost but never forgotten.

The Be-Ro Flour Home Recipe 40th Edition is my version of heaven. Granted, I have a penchant for anything cakey, creamy, jammy, and sweet. It's not my fault; I was born and bred and remain a Brit. We're designed to love stodgy puddings and jam and cream-filled sponge cakes. But it doesn't stop there. I also have a taste for cheesey pastries, crumbly scones, salty pies and (soy) sausages in batter. Mmmm. Vegetarian toad in the hole. Delish.

Since 1923, the Be-Ro cookery book has brought common recipes back to the common (wo)man. For almost 2-years, since my last move, Be-Ro and I have been separated. Sadly out of sight but not out of mind, as I've imagined savory cheese scones, jam tarts, and Victoria sponge cakes. But how to make those recipes? Separated from the Be-Ro book I could no longer remember the measures of flour to sugar. The oven temperatures or dish to timing ratio. I could no longer recall how I'd once baked such delights; the staple dishes and Sunday tea treats of my upbringing. That is, until tonight.

Tonight I called my mum for a recipe: Quiche Lorraine. One of many recipes she excels at.( I should also mention her rice pudding, lasagna, and British-style pancakes. Scrumptious.) With a day off work ahead of me tomorrow and a group of guests arriving for dinner on Wednesday evening at 7pm (after a full work day ending at 6pm), I decided to do what any well-educated young English-woman would do: make quiche. Additionally, a weekend sale on eggs and cheese make for ideal timing.

Quiche Lorraine. For years I've enjoyed multiple versions: Broccoli and Cheese, Cheese and Onion, Ham and Cheese (in the old meat-eating days), Sweetcorn. There have been mixed vegetable versions, chicken n' cheddar, and herbed-only platters. Served at the golf club Christmas parties, summer picnics, Brit-reunions. Quiche fits any occasion and most palates. However, for all of my enjoyment, I realised this evening, I've never made quiche. So I called my mother for a recipe.

"You'll not like this," she said. "You just have to experiment. I don't use a recipe." No recipe? Really? All those years of quiche and no recipe? How did she learn and why hadn't I yet? I was panicked. "It's a shortcrust pastry," she began. "Shortcrust? How do I make shortcrust pastry?" I didn't know where to start and here's my mum talking like I'm already apart of the shortcrust-pastry baking club.

"It's in the Be-Ro book?" Be-Ro book. Be-Ro book. Where is that book? I stood paralyzed in the middle of the kitchen until it hit me. The bookshelf. (I swear it wasn't that obvious. We have 2 built-in and 2 free-standing bookshelves in this house-all full of books upon books. It's easy to get lost in them.)

And then I found it. The Be-Ro cookery book. Blue. A little tousled at the corners from use. A sticky cover. And full of sweet, sweet, savored (and savory) memories. Welsh griddle scones like my Granny used to make on Friday evenings upon my visits after school. Toad in the hole- my Dad's go-to end-of-the-week dish for my brother and I. Jam tarts filled with tart raspberry and lemon sugars. The same pastries I carried as a child for the local Salmon Queen festival's costume competition. I went as the Queen of Hearts based on a childhood rhyme,

"The Queen of Hearts,
she made some tarts,
all on a summer's day.
The Knave of Hearts,
he stole the tarts,
and ate them right away"

I didn't win the competition, but loved baking the jam and lemon curd tarts with my mum and offering them up to neighbors and festival-goers.

There were more recipes: cheese scones (a Mum-favorite), Highlanders (melt-in-your-mouth shortbread biscuits), cheese straws (a party favorite), vol-au-vents (adult dinner hors d'ouevres), sausage rolls (recently perfected as a vegetarian version by my mother), currant buns (often made by my brother and I on weekend afternoons), chocolate swiss roll (a childhood favorite and special treat only), yorkshire puddings (a Sunday dinner side to Beef or Turkey). With each recipe came a new memory, a smile, an appreciation for family and food.

I assume that Be-Ro and I will be spending some quality time together over the next few weeks. I have a list of recipes I want to bake. Vegetarian versions I'm excited to try. An experiment in British cookery in New England. I can't wait. Will King Arthur's flour hold up to Be-Ro? I'm unsure, but it's a welcome (and potentially delicious) challenge.

I write this all after returning to WW tonight for the first time in 5-weeks. I remained the same weight I left at. During my 5 week absence I ate in response to my body, including my needs and my cravings. I didn't worry about the scale, and I was successful.

I add this afterword about WW not to dampen the mood, nor to suggest that all eating winds up being about WW. For me, it doesn't and hasn't in practice. But I add this afterword to highlight that you can be a foodie and lose weight. You can be a foodie and maintain. You can enjoy food and the good memories of food and have struggled with weight and weight-loss. It's all about balance- and listening.

I noted at my WW meeting this evening that I've made it through almost another 10-months of WW and 30lbs of weight-loss by learning one simple skill: listening. I'm not good at it yet, but I'm practicing. This whole journey is about listening to myself. To the cravings. To the memories. To the hunger. To the pain with injury. To the tiredness. To the stress. To the feelings. It's about listening and trying to respond to myself in the most positive way possible- even if that means some nights I'm eating take-out so I can come home, eat, not wash a dish and go to bed. Other days it means healthy habits- drinking lots of water, going for that run, weighing portions, eating leafy greens, passing up the caffeine from Starbucks. Whatever the case, it's about listening. It's staying in that extra 30minutes in bed. Saying no to another project. It's crying and laughing and spending time with friends if I need to. This journey is about the whole me. The fat kid. The good British food. The love of baking and the love of eating. And, through listening to and respecting all of those parts of me, I can make this work.

I may almost be a real vegetarian...

I'm at a training on the Champlain Islands in Vermont for the next 2 days and on the way up tonight, I stopped in Burlington for dinner (per recommendation of the organizers). Apparently, the villages on the Islands are pretty empty of dinner choices.

So, I looked up a few restaurants over the weekend with the thought that I'd be better prepared. I was. I found a wonderful place- Shanty on the Shore, serving up the best seafood in Burlington. I ordered shrimp and scallop gnocchi (the only two non-vegetarian fare I enjoy- and mainly so I can eat out restaurants) with sundried tomatoes (a favorite of mine). The dish looked great. I dived into the gnocchi- cooked to potato pasta perfection. I then continued to try a scallop- broiled, succulent. And then a shrimp- again broiled, not as succulent. I made it through one more scallop and one more shrimp before I began to gag. They were so fleshy, so meaty. Fishy.

I couldn't eat any more seafood. I nibbled on a couple of gnocchi and then seceded. My gut just couldn't take it.

This is not the first time I've experienced the seafood-squirm. After a few too many days of eating shrimp on our trip to GA I began to gag. Eating too large scallop. Too large shrimp. I'm better when I stick to the small ones.

Does this mean I'm going to have to give up seafood? Say bye-bye to shrimp and scallops- the last bastion and monument to my carnivorous days?

At this point, I'm not sure. But, I'm not thrilled with the idea of eating seafood again any time soon. I'll stick to soy.