On Life As A Picky Foodie

“It’s so nice to see you enjoy.”  Dw’s words were painful to hear.

Have I really been taking such little pleasure in my food lately?

The answer is yes.  Honestly, truly.  I wish it was different, but the reality is such that recently I have been cooking because my child needs to be fed, or as a way of procrastinating the mountains of packing that await me in every room.  Food has, in the past few months, become a chore.

Over the years, I have removed and reinstated countless ingredients: tomatoes, oats, tamari, potatoes (sweet and regular), aubergines (eggplants to the Yanks), to name a few.  Some have remained, some have been jettisoned again, while others come and go depending on how I’m feeling.  

Last March, I found myself depleted of energy, drained at all times, my thyroid was acting up, and I hadn’t been able to lose even a gram of the weight I had put on during my pregnancy.  The very talented Naturopath I saw recommended I remove all nuts (except coconut and some cashews and macadamias if necessary), seeds, pulses and grains.  We compromised on oats, which I happily ate for breakfast every morning and stuffed in every dessert imaginable (something had to replace all those nut-filled recipes!).  She also requested that I eat more meat – something I have been trying to remove altogether (since becoming a mother, I have found it much more difficult to stomach).

I agreed to try and within a few weeks, I was feeling a hundred times better.  My weight started to normalize, my skin, which had been red and blotchy for a while, cleared up, my mood lightened.  All was well.

Until it wasn’t. 

For me, food should be about enjoyment.  I love textures, colours, flavours.  I mix, I match, I test, I taste.  Since Vida Lev was born cooking has become even more important to me as often it is my only creative outlet.

My list was pretty stark:

Dos: greens, potatoes (which I can’t stand unless they are French Fries drowned in mayonnaise – yes, really), sweet potatoes, mushrooms, fruit, coconut, all meat, especially wild caught (ugh, yuck – sooo not into it right now), chocolate (ok, so I didn’t ask about this one.  Technically, cacao is a seed, but I played shtum and decreed it was “different” i.e. the only way to get through this)

Don’ts: gluten, dairy, soy, sugar (refined), flour, beans, nuts, seeds, aubergines. Peppers, grains and other nightshades (unless well cooked).

Green, yes.  But dull.  Dull.  Dull. 

At first, I was so happy to be feeling great -- I started working out again and revelled in my newfound vigour.  It was a hot summer and we spent three weeks in the Middle East where it was easy to stick to salads and fruit.

Upon our return, however, things started to change. 

I got bored.  Then I got angry.  Then the cravings started. 

Some people stop eating when they’re emotional.  Not me.  And sugar is my port of call.  I kept telling myself that it could be worse, that I could be eating a pint of actual ice cream instead of Choosing Raw's soft serve made out of only bananas (seriously, it's amazing all on its own but if you want to be truly decadent, try it on top of my Unreasonable Brownies -- just be sure to omit the cayenne).  But the body doesn’t care if you’re overeating on Carvel or Chiquita. 

So what if I was eating too much healthy food – it was still too much and I wasn’t feeling good.  Again. 

This week, I decided to start incorporating things back into my diet.  I wanted to rediscover joy in my meals.

This journey is exactly that, a journey.  And when I find myself getting too preachy either when I speak to people or when I’m writing this blog, my body finds a way to remind me that I too struggle on a daily basis with what is right for me, what is healthy in my life, what I need in order to feel my best.

By now, my palate has changed.  For example, I have no desire for, almonds, that powerhouse of plant-based protein I didn’t think I could live without.  On the other hand I find myself craving, chia and hemp seeds, which I didn’t care for in the past.

But really, what I’ve been missing most is bread.  It’s a texture thing: is there a more satisfying experience than biting into a good piece of bread?  Bread is such a basic part of my food memory, a constant in an ever-changing childhood.   I know I’m not the first to say this, but when I first went gluten free, the thought of living without bread was terrifying.  Thankfully, and again, I know I’m not the first to have this experience, we do have a myriad of wonderful options available to us these days.

In order to celebrate my return to joyful eating, I started back at square one, a return to basics if you will: I baked bread.  I made not one but two different kinds of bread – one raw and one more mainstream.  Usually, I reserve these posts for recipes of my own creation.  But I cannot claim ownership of either of these.  It’s been a while, and it was nice to be able to find inspiration out there in other people’s adventures.  Both breads came out wonderfully and there are no words to describe the pleasure I’ve been taking in every single bite.  

Two Bread Recipes

Raw Butternut Squash Flatbread (raw/vegan)

A friend of mine uses her oven pilot light instead of a dyhydrator.  I cranked up the dehydrator one last time before our big move. Note: when eating dehydrated foods - whether your own or store bought -- don’t forget to up your liquid intake.

(Adapted from Shazzie’s book, “Evie’s Kitchen, Raising an ecstatic Child.”)

Ingredients:

- 1 butternut squash, peeled, deseeded, roughly chopped

- 10 cherry tomatoes – I used a mixture of yellow and red.  They’re so sweet right now

-  ½ cup fresh parsley, roughly

- 1 t coconut aminos (or soy sauce)

- 3 T ground flax seeds

- pinch of sea salt (optional, to taste)

- ¼ t sweet paprika

- ¼ cup water

Directions:

Start by processing the butternut squash and tomatoes well.  Then add the water, parsley, flax, coconut aminos , paprika and salt and process again until a paste forms.  This could take a few minutes and you might need to add more water, depending on the veggies.

Then spread on teflex sheets and dehydrate at 105 Fahrenheit (40 Centigrade) for 5 hours.  Flip over and remove the teflex sheets and dehydrate for an additional 8 hours until they are hard but still flexible. 

Enjoy with avocado and sprouts or according to your personal preferences.

Pecan, Almond and Buckwheat Bread

They say when you’re adapting a recipe, the first thing to do is make it exactly as the original instructs.  Then you can play and change things from a clear starting point.  Until I baked this bread, I didn’t think I was physically capable of following a recipe.  Usually, I start to pour and mix and suddenly I’ll feel an overwhelming urge to change things, add an ingredient that I know will improve whatever it is I’m working on.  But this bread was so easy and simple that I just followed it without even thinking about it.  The only difference was that I used a rectangular baking tin because that is what I have.   

I will, however, be working on an egg-free/vegan version.

The original post is so beautiful and evocative (much like the rest of her site – definitely worth losing yourself in for as long as you can spare) that I’d rather you check it out
on La Tartine Gourmande's blog rather than copying and pasting it here.  This bread blew my socks off.  It's hearty and rich without being heavy.  Though I didn't know whether this strange new taste would stand the baby-palate test, Vida Lev gobbled up a couple of pieces with relish.  

The other day someone said it to me.  The subject was my daughter. 

My answer? 

Unreasonable?  Moi?  You bet!

Though it wasn’t meant as a compliment, I have come to the conclusion that being unreasonable is not a bad thing.  It’s simply a lack of reason.  And reason can be more of a hindrance than a help when it comes to matters of the heart – family, love.

The brain’s job is to solve problems, discover patterns, make rules.  Emotions and feelings exist in a completely separate realm where one plus one might equal a hula hoop instead of the famous t-w-o. 

The thing about using words like “unreasonable” isn’t just that it’s judgmental and condescending.  In my experience, people who talk about being reasonable are usually the same people who view emotions as a four-letter-word.  Eek, gloopy, uncontrollable, messy, unrestrained emotions – call the police!  Or the brain.    

Ever heard (or used) the expression “keeping busy”?  People constantly need to keep busy.  It’s a way of making sure our brains don’t nitpick our lives to death.  Because the problem with having to solve problems is that when there is a dearth of trouble, you bet the brain will do its utmost to create some. 

“Unreasonable” used to feel like an insult to me and yet somehow when I heard it the other day, I almost laughed.  For the first time, I owned up to the fact that I am, at times, very unreasonable.  And that’s just fine with me.

Six and three quarter ways to make sure you’re being unreasonable:

1.  Go for a walk in the rain.  When the skies open up and it’s pouring, head out.  Wander around those familiar streets and take a good look at a totally new part of the world without leaving your neighbourhood.

2.  Use Raspberries As Finger Hats.  They’re so much more delicious that way. Or better yet, use them as hats on the fingers of your beloved.

3.  Do what you love.  This is a new one for me.  I did the whole “choose a reasonable career that will pay the bills” thing.  It left me sick and depressed.  Then I procrastinated because I feared and I reasoned.  Now I’m ready. 

4.  Have Dessert For Breakfast. Raw chocolate smoothies have successfully converted many a night owl into morning people. (tweet twoo)

5.  Love The One You’re With.  Be it a friend, a partner, a pet, or your own wonderful company.

6.  Find Inspiration.  I love Julia Cameron’s concept of the Artist Date.  It’s awesome.  Best done during the day when you “should” be doing something else. 

And the three quarters?  Read Between the Lines.   

Unreasonable Drenched Brownies in Melted Icing

(Adapted from Meghan Telpner’s hot hot hot and spicy brownies)

Sweet potato, cayenne and apple sauce in brownies?  Sounds pretty unreasonable, doesn’t it?  Need more convincing about how wonderfully delectably delicious unreasonable can be?  Give these babies a try.

Ingredients

For the brownies:

-  100 gr. 100% cacao chocolate bar

-  1 T coconut oil

-  ½ cup sweet potato puree (steamed and then mashed/pureed)

-  1/8 cup honey

-  ½ cup coconut sugar

-  ½ cup Valrhona cacao powder

-  2 t vanilla extract (gluten free)

-  ¾ cup apple sauce

-  ½ cup coconut flour

-   ½ t baking powder

-   sprinkle salt

-  ½ T cinnamon

-  ¼ t cayenne

-  1/16 t green stevia powder

-  1 banana, mashed

-  ¼ c cashew milk (blend 1/8 c cashews and 1 cup water – use the rest for the melted icing)

-  ¼ cup water (or more)

For the Melted Icing:

-  1 cup cashew milk

-  1 T coconut oil

-  1 T coconut butter

-  1/8 cup Valrhona cacao powder

- 1 T honey

Directions:

For the Brownies:

Preheat the oven to 350 Fahrenheit (176 Centigrade)

Melt the chocolate and coconut oil in a double boiler / bain de Marie.

In the mean time, combine the wet ingredients and process with the S blade in the food processor.  Transfer to a large bowl and fold in the melted chocolate and coconut oil. 

Pour into oiled baking pan and bake for 60 minutes (check after 30 and then every 10 minutes with a toothpick)

Allow to cool fully before attempting anything.

For the Melted Icing:

Blend 1 cup or the leftover cashew milk with the coconut oil (can be room temperature, shouldn’t be too firm), coconut butter, cacao powder and honey.  Should be like pancake batter – not too creamy, this is unreasonable icing after all!  Store in the refrigerator until the brownies are fully cooled. 

Then drench and allow to set in the fridge for at least five hours.

Note: coconut flour does not a crumbly brownie make.  These are too gooey to be cake, and too cakey to be mousse.  But if you allow them to set (see below*), they’ll reward you with fudge.

This week, New York passed a law legalizing gay marriage.

Like most people I know and love, I am overjoyed.  But I also have a personal reason to celebrate.

When I was growing up, gay was weird, scary, a name the meaner kids hurled at you to indicate there was something wrong with you.

My father is gay.

He never came out to me.  Instead, I found out by accident, when reading a book – one of those teenage coming-of-age novels where the parents are divorced and the protagonist is trying desperately to figure out where she fits in.  The father in the book had a best friend who was always coming over – just like my Dad – and, much like my father’s buddy, the best friend was an excellent cook.  At the end of the story, the girl’s dad admits that Greg is more than just a friend…

I couldn’t just come out and ask him though.  My father wasn’t that kind of person.

Two years passed.  I studied every reaction, made note of anything that could hint at some kind of clear-cut answer.  Was that hug they shared a little too close?  Why was the best friend using his spoon to give my Dad a taste of his dinner?  As a child, I loved the Harriet the Spy series, and now I had a chance to use those skills for my own research. Sadly, Harriet ends up losing all her friends and as he felt me watching him, my father became increasingly uncomfortable.  Our relationship became fraught, difficult.  He blamed my adolescence but I know now that it was to do with the secret I was making it more and more difficult for him to keep.

(even today, as I write these words, I still feel a chill running up my spine)

Secrets were popular when I was growing up.  Around me everyone had secrets:  secret lovers in other cities, secret children with former flames or personal assistants.  Somehow, though, sexuality was different. 

“I wouldn’t talk like that,” a kid in my seventh grade class retorted when I told him to shut up, “if MY father was like yours.”

The rumour mill in my hometown is a Monster.  Created by bored housewives and perpetuated by their husbands and best friends, it has a life of its own.  Constantly starving for new prey, this Beast feeds off the weak, the deceived, the deceptions. 

My father, forbade me from telling anyone.  I was completely alone bar the one person I confided in.  When someone else hinted at it, I attacked my confidante thinking she had betrayed my trust.

Then there was the day I read a story in Time magazine, written by a girl my age who had sewn a square on the AIDS quilt in memory of her father.  It was a tiny sidebar, a barely noticeable post scriptum, but it changed my life. There were two of us!   

Growing up in a small community was hard for someone like me.  From day 1, I was an outsider – having moved at age six, there was only my mother, my father, my brother and I, when almost everyone else seemed to be related.  I didn’t fit in.  And then there was our family secret.  It took me a long time to find out that everyone knew because nobody talked about it.

The problem with secrets is that the people keeping them are always the last to know when it’s not longer a secret.  You are afraid of every word that comes out of your mouth, of even accidentally alluding to what you know you shouldn’t. You become obsessed with the one thing that’s off-limits. Everything sounds like it could be a tip-off.  

It’s so clear now how deeply this secret affected me and the course of life. 

Secrets are the opposite of healthy.  They sit like a knot in your stomach, clamping down on your digestive system and your ability to openly love. 

My first period, which I got while on vacation with my dad. The time(s) when my boyfriends were older than his. The tasteless meals, the charred BBQs, the people I met, the Thanksgiving when he wore a blue shirt with white stars and red and white striped suspenders. The words he uses when referring to my mother or women in general.  His obsession with cars and expressions like "you can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink." All of these things are about him, what kind of person he is, what kind of father he is. If you know my father, you know what I'm talking about. But none of this has to do with his sexual preference. And it's about time people realized it.

So I rejoiced this week for New York City.  Because allowing people to get married – regardless of gender, age, class, sexual preference -- is the right thing to do.  But also because I hope and pray that no one ever again needs to grow up with the burden of keeping the kinds of secrets I did, not for their parents, not for themselves.

I leave you with this celebratory green smoothie.

Pride Green Smoothie

Ingredients:
-  1 cup frozen raspberries
-  3/4 cup frozen blueberries
-  1 frozen banana
-  1 handful spicy rocket (arugula)
-  ¼ cup water or more (you need enough so the blender can do its job but this mixture needs to remain thick like ice cream so add 1 T at a time)
-  1 t cacao nibs and coconut flakes (to sprinkle on top, optional)

Instructions:
Blend greens and the water until completely broken down.  Then add the frozen fruit and blend until a thick ice cream like texture forms – you want to do this as fast as possible to ensure it will remain as cold as possible.
Sprinkle cacao nibs and coconut flakes if using.

Go outside, put your feet up, sit in the sun and enjoy with a small spoon, sloooooowly.

I had a post written and ready to put up.  Completed, done, signed, sealed, deli--- then I had a conversation with a woman about life insurance.  Because when you’re an adult, you need to talk about things like that.  Eesh.

So we talked about death, this woman and I, and how much DW would get, how much I would get in the event of.  Somehow every amount of money sounds ridiculous.  “We’re sorry for your loss, but here’s the cash we agreed to pay you.”

Now I know, rationally, as an adult, that this is a necessary step to take, but the rest of me was screaming about how wrong all of this was.

Still, I sat through the thirty-eight minutes of questions – do you have a terrible illness?  Have you had a terrible illness?  Have your parents had a terrible illness?  Do you envisage getting a terrible illness?  Is there any reason to suspect you will have a terrible illness at some point? 

Some questions made me laugh: do you regularly go potholing or bungee jumping? 

Other questions were downright terrifying: about alcoholism and drug abuse, about family histories and previous health problems.  I wondered how people who do suffer such afflictions feel having to divulge God knows what to the stranger reading the questionnaire on auto-pilot.

What does this have to do with food, health and general Picky Foodie themes, you ask? 

Well after this young lady had finished making sure my kidneys, liver, lungs and heart have no history of crapping out on me, after she had made sure that I don’t have any STDs, that I’m not HIV positive and that I don’t suffer from psychosis, neurosis or other psychiatric problems, she said “I’m very sorry but I’m going to have to ask you a sensitive question…” she hesitated.  Then she got the courage to continue: “What is your dress size?”

Uh, what? 

I couldn’t resist: “THAT is your sensitive question?”

I’ll let you come to your own conclusions on just how ridiculous that conversation was.  But in honour of my waistline and yours, I would like to share a lovely New Potato salad recipe.  It keeps well, travels well and fills you up regardless of your dress size.

Let me say this: I’m not a fan of the popular potato (I know, I don’t drink nor do I like potatoes.  And yet, I live in England.).  Last week, at the farmer’s market, however, DW mentioned how much he would enjoy some from time to time.  As fate would have it, a great looking spud salad was featured on one of my favourite mainstream recipe sites – Food52.  This is the second time I make this dish in as many weeks, and the second time it disappears remarkably quickly.    

New Potato Salad
(adapted from Food52)

The key to this recipe is to make it while the potatoes are still warm so they can soak up the lovely vinaigrette.  Prep time is around a half hour from start to finish.  It keeps well in the refrigerator for a few days and is hearty enough for grey summer days yet refreshing enough for sunny picnics. 

-  1 kg new potatoes, scrubbed and cut into large bite-sized pieces
-  1 T ume plum vinegar
-  100 gr rocket (arugula)
-  2 T fresh chives, finely chopped
-  2 spring onions, finely chopped
-  1 T mustard
-  1 T balsamic vinegar
-  1 T pomegranate vinegar (optional–replace with an additional T of balsamic)
-  2 T olive oil
-  ½ t salt or to taste

Bring the potatoes to a boil in a pot of water.  Cook for about 10 minutes, until soft but not mushy.  Drain and put in a large salad bowl.

Add the ume vinegar and salt to the potatoes and mix gently so the potatoes pieces stay more of less whole.  Then gently mix in the chives and spring onions.

For the vinaigrette:  whisk together the mustard, vinegar and olive oil.  Pour over the potatoes and mix in well. 

At this point, the mixture should still be relatively warm.  Now is the time to add the rocket (arugula). 

Serve warm or at room temperature. 

The other day a well-meaning friend and I were talking about chicken.  This is a person who cares about the environment and is raising her kids in a conscientious and responsible way.  When I asked her why she didn’t buy the chickens from the store nearest us, she looked at me with a smile and said “I can’t afford them.”

This isn’t the first time someone has indicated that my choice to eat the way I do is based on the fact that I can afford to do so.  I thought nothing of it and got on with my day.  A few hours later, however, it realized how angry I was.  My anger wasn’t directed towards this person but rather at the concept that to eat “healthy” you have to have money.

First of all, what does anyone know about anyone else’s finances or monetary decisions?   

But, more importantly, my choice is not (just) a question of economics.  It is, however, about what I am able to afford.  I am able to afford healthy food because I can’t afford to be ill.  I am able to afford the nutritional choices that I make because I can’t afford to trudge through my days with low-energy.  I simply can’t afford to while away my time at doctors’ offices or in bed, with aches and pains and sniffles.  Being down, or borderline depressed isn’t something I can afford.

Mankind didn’t always eat this much meat.  In the past, servings were the opposite of what they are now: vegetables weren’t side dishes, meat was.  I’m not a yuppie health freak – or maybe I am; regardless of labels, what I am interested in is feeling well, being happy, sucking every last second out of life, be it in my exercise routine, in my job, in my relationship, in my work and, of course, in every second I spend with my daughter.

Yes, I choose to eat mostly organic produce.  And I get as much as I can from farmers’ markets or from the farm deliveries (the UK equivalent of a CFA in the US).  Yes, when I do eat animal protein, I choose to do so from sustainably, humanely raised animals. 

Some fruits and vegetables are sprayed more than others – so if you’re watching your wallet (and who isn’t these days), you can educate yourself as to which ones are more important to buy organic.  Check out the Environment Working Groups’s list of which fruits and vegetables are most/least sprayed for more information.

And is having meat, fish, eggs or poultry every single day actually healthy?  

If your answer to my previous question was yes, I invite you to read Michael Pollan, Dr. Dean Ornish and Colin T Campbell for starters.  Mr. Pollan isn't vegan, he doesn't have blue hair, nor does he live in a teeppee (or a yurt).  But he does advocate that we "eat food.  Not too much.  Mostly plants."  And with good reason.  Dr Ornish has demonstrated time and again through clinical research that people can reverse coronary heart disease through diet and lifestyle.  T Colin Campbell is a Professor Emeritus at Cornell with more than seventy years of research experience.  He also grew up on a dairy farm.  

We vote with our money, we send messages to huge corporations and small farmers with the food choices we make.  I can’t afford to spend mine on chickens who are fed chemical crap, crammed in cages smaller then their bodies, with no access to light, fresh air, the outdoors.  I can’t afford to eat GM vegetables topped with pesticide sauce.  I can’t afford to not think about where my food is coming from – not as a mother thinking of my child’s future, not as an inhabitant of this earth, not as a woman concerned with my own health.

Interesting articles and further reading on the subject:
-    The LA Times on routine antibiotic use in animals  
-  Moms for antibiotic awareness
-  A recent study comparing supermarket prices to those at farmer’s markets

And now for the zucchini recipe... 
In the past few months, I have been a little remiss about posting recipes.  You see, right now, my time in the kitchen is extremely limited.  These days, it's more about throwing things together in fifteen seconds than being able to spend hours testing, tasting and perfecting.  That is my life as a new mother, apparently.  To be honest, I wouldn't mind so much except for this blog.  So, I kept putting off posting new recipes because they weren't as exact as I wanted them to be.  But for now, I guess my life is going to be more chaotic, my time is going to be minimal -- maybe you'll indulge me in less formal posts, dishes and measurements for a while. For my part, I promise I won't post recipes that are any less than wonderfully delicious.    

Zucchini and herb salad with broccoli flowers
(serves 2-3 as a starter or a side dish)



-  3 good sized zucchini / courgettes
-  1/3 hard pear
-  approx. 1/2 cup fresh chives, finely chopped
-  approx. 1/8 cup fresh mint, chopped
-  approx. 3/4 cup rocket (arugula), roughly chopped
-  handful broccoli flowers
-  sprinkle of rock salt
-  1/2 T balsamic vinegar
-  splash of good olive oil.

Preheat the oven to 200 degrees Centigrade (392 Fahrenheit).  

Cut the zucchini into three pieces and then cut those pieces into quarters, lengthwise.  Spread on a baking tray.  
Using a sharp knife, cut the pear into slivers as thin as you can get them, and then sprinkle over the zucchini.

Roast for about 20 -25 minutes (check and shake after about 15 minutes to make sure they don't burn.)

At the bottom of your salad bowl, whisk together the olive oil and vinegar.  
Combine the mint, chives, and rocket and mix.  

When the zucchini is soft but still has a crunch, pull it out of the oven (the pear should have darker edges by now but it shouldn't be burned).  Allow to cool for a few minutes and then add to the herbs in the salad bowl  Mix well, sprinkle with some rock salt and broccoli flowers and serve immediately. 

We’ve just returned from a week in Paris.  Whereas gay Paris used to mean long walks holding hands, tastes of art and talk of inspiration, with a baby, Paris meant long walks to help her sleep, curses at the seemingly constant fire engines and stolen moments to hold hands.  Don’t get me wrong, though, we had an absolutely lovely time.  It was simply different. 

We’ve arrived back in the UK to Royal Wedding fever.  Houses are “decorated,” and every souvenir imaginable is on sale somewhere, somehow.  We’re planning to make Mexican food and have the TV on with friends.  The kids will romp on the floor, if the weather is nice, we’ll have the windows open. 

I can’t help but think that somewhere in this city, a bride is getting ready to marry her Prince.  No matter that the world is watching, that her prince is actual royalty, and that there will be more guests at her special day that she’s never met than people she knows.  Somewhere in this city, a young woman in love is preparing to become a wife. 

My thoughts keep wandering back to my own wedding.  The one I fled, the one I questioned, the one that, in the end, did live up to the cliché of being the best day of my life.  And I can only hope that the same is true for the young woman who is preparing to say her “I do” as the world watches. 

I remember feeling strange about living out such an intimate moment in public.  It’s hard to imagine what they are feeling.  But I hope that no matter how challenging, strange and dictated by protocol, that these two find a moment, or even a glance between them that belongs only to them. 

Mazal Tov, to the Bride and Groom.

And now to my guac and salsa.

Blood Orange Salsa
(serves 6)

3 large yellow tomatoes
20 vine tomatoes
5 spring onions
2 blood oranges
½ bunch fresh cilantro (coriander)
½ t ground chipotle
salt to taste

This is a simple, happy salsa – great for a celebration.  It’s good to make this a day in advance so all the flavours can marinate.

Chop the tomatoes and spring onions and blood oranges into bite-sized pieces.  Combine in a large bowl and mix together.  Then chop the cilantro and add along with the chipotle.  Mix well and add salt to taste.   

Mint Guacamole
(serves 2)

Does the world really need another guacamole recipe?  I say YES!

Mash a couple of avocados with a clove of garlic.  Add a handful of finely chopped fresh mint and a teaspoon of dried, crushed mint leaves, a pinch of salt (to taste) and the juice of half a lemon.

Serve on daikon radish rounds.  Or crunchy beetroot wedges.  With crudités or, of course, corn chips.

Spring has sprung, my friends! 

We’ve been outside playing – it’s quite incredible to watch my daughter experience this wonderful season for the first time.  The breeze on her face makes her squeal, she smiles and shuts her eyes tightly when she turns her face to the sun.  Every little discovery is a whole world onto itself -- who knew things like grass, leaves and mud could be so amazing!

Here’s a lovely recipe to celebrate the season of (re)birth:

Rainbow Salad
(serves 6 as part of a larger meal though this is definitely a main meal kind of salad if you so choose.  It keeps for a couple of days in the fridge, so you can make a larger batch and have it for a few lunches in a row.)

This salad is beautiful to look at, and beautiful to eat.  Shredding the beets and carrots add a wonderful texture -- juicy and light, earthy and fun.  The roots help us stay grounded and focused even when all we want to do is escape and enjoy the gorgeous day.  The deep red beets nourish our blood and help us women in what is uniquely ours.  But that doesn’t mean men can’t enjoy it just as much.

Shred:
- 2 large beets
- 3 large carrots

Finely Chop:
- a small handful of wild garlic leaves (about ¼ cup) -- optional
- 100gr arugula (rocket)
Mix the above ingredients in a large bowl.

Then add:
- a handful of raisins
- Juice of 4 lemons
- 1T apple cider vinegar
- 2 cloves raw garlic, minced
- sprinkle of sea salt.

Other add ins:
-  a handful of almonds, pecans and unsweetened dried cranberries (I lightly roasted the nuts for some extra crunch)
OR
-  pistachios (shelled, of course)
-  1 nori sheet, ripped into little bits like you would paper
-  1-2T wakame flakes  
-  a sprinkle of dulse.

In our house, Monday is Mad Men night.  We download the latest, plug it in and travel back in time for close to an hour. 

Like with all great storytelling, we lose ourselves in it and forty-six minutes go by in what feels like 5.

Then we have dessert. 

It’s a bit of a tease because like with all great desserts, even though I try to make sure to savour every bite, it doesn’t last nearly long enough. 

(Serves 2)

Ingredients
1 c coconut water
2 T raw cacao
1/3 c + 1 T hemp seeds
1/3 c + 2 T coconut butter or meat (not the oil)
1/3 c raisins
2 pitted dates

Blend until smooth

Top with fresh raspberries

(sorry there's no picture -- this stuff never lasts long enough...)