Butternut Mash with Lassi and Lime

I must be having a getting-it-right-the-second-time rut or something, but I just made another flop this morning. In honor of presenting our projects in interpersonal conflict resolution class this afternoon, I decided to make mini-muffins. And even after trashing them, I still believe the taste and concept was awesome.

The texture? Not so much.

In my previous muffin post, I mentioned how I thought the fat ratio was rather high, resulting in a greasy crumb I wasn’t too keen on. So instead of using avocado at that ratio, I used half that amount with coconut oil. And maybe it was just the pan I used, because this has happened before: the bottoms are still underdone after fifty minutes, and the tops for this certain recipe were crust-like.

I was so not feeding my class this recipe as is. But I did like how I wanted it to be: three different flavors for the same batter (separated into equal thirds), layered in one muffin or one flavor in each. I had banana, petite pea, and blueberry. The colors were gorgeous, and using the blender was a cool trick, but I’m going to use the full fat ratio next time and see what happens.

Yet this post wasn’t specifically to mention my flop, only in passing. I want to talk to you about my stroke of creativity that happened after.

I love butternut squash. I love it in soups, as a puree, baked, and so on. Trader Joe’s has it in 20 oz containers, peeled and pre-cut for your convenience. And I typically turn it into a soup of some sort, put into the blender and pureed until smooth. But I remembered what the boyfriend told me after I made this for brunch one day. He said he liked how it tasted, but he wasn’t too fond of the texture.

There’s that word again. Texture.

So I decided to try something different for lunch today. Last night I mad a chicken and rice curry bowl with lassi and lime. Lassi, the pro-biotic yogurt drink of India, was featured at my local Trader Joe’s and I wanted to give the plain version a try. And after my first gulp of the stuff, I knew I was hooked. I then started looking for ways to cook with it, both in sweet and savory meals. The lime and spices really put it all together, and that’s when inspiration struck for this dish.

Sometimes people find themselves in breakfast ruts and don’t want hot cereal in the mornings but something different and just as comforting. I truly believe that this will change how you perceive future breakfasts (or, in my case, lunches). Plus, this is filled with probiotic goodness along with a whopping portion of Vitamins A and C, potassium, magnesium, and fiber. It can serve one a very filling meal, but is just as good to share with a friend (or a love).

Butternut Mash with Lassi and Lime

20 oz Butternut squash, peeled and cubed
2 tsp. Coconut oil
1/8 tsp. Salt
1/4 tsp. Cinnamon
Dash of nutmeg
1/3 c. Plain lassi
1/4 Lime

In a steamer pot, place the butternut squash on high heat until soft.
In a bowl, combine the butternut squash, coconut oil, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg.
Mash until the ingredients are thoroughly mixed but there are a few lumps.
Let the mash cool for a few minutes (you can also put it in the fridge if you want it colder).
Once at the desired temperature, pour the lassi around the butternut squash mash, and squeeze the juice from the lime wedge on top.
Garnish with cinnamon and the lime wedge.

Serves 1 a very filling lunch or 2 a light starter meal.

"I Wish You Well" Chocolate Shortbread Cookies

I’m not a big fan of goodbyes. I’m a “hello” person; that’s what I do best. I would prefer a greeting embrace to a farewell kiss any day. Even “See you later” is better than goodbye.

 I believe Charles M. Schultz summed it up rather nicely:

"Why can't we get all the people together in the world that we really like and then just stay together?  I guess that wouldn't work.  Someone would leave.  Someone always leaves.  Then we would have to say good-bye.  I hate good-byes.  I know what I need.  I need more hellos."

So when it comes to me and goodbyes… I’m not a big fan.

(source)

It’s possible that people don’t really like the concept because that indicates a change in their lives. People can say goodbye to people, to ideas, to places, to beliefs. We hold on to things that are comfortable, and when it’s time to let go, sometimes we’re not ready.

I’ve also noticed I am more sentimental in my goodbyes when I don’t know someone particularly well or recently got to know them. You know these people; they’re in your life right now. They are blurred in the beginning, merely part of the background. But then, something brings them into focus, and you’re wondering why in the world you never noticed such a cool person before. And then… then they have to go. Their absence can be as short as a few hours. Their absence can be as long as eternity. Maybe they have a different class schedule. Maybe they are in a different country or continent. Maybe they’ve passed.

A goodbye is a goodbye is a goodbye. Regardless of the flavor, the majority of the time it isn’t pleasant.

But that’s not to say you can make it easier on yourself and on the other person (or place or thing). When I learned a classmate in my community conflict resolution class was being deployed, I was saddened. He was the second person to tell me that within thirty-six hours. Despite the politics and the conflicts with the war the U.S. and the Middle East are in, real people are suffering. Real people are having to say more goodbyes than one should in a lifetime. Sometimes, it’s a permanent one.

I don’t think anything is going to happen to my new friend, but I was still rather distraught to hear him leaving. He has that charm that makes everyone around him smile, and he is very easy to talk with. We talked about the Sufism and Mu'tazila philosophies and how it was possible to follow both. We talked about Islamophobia and what he did in the military. He's a talker, this one.

But that's what I like about him, and I look forward to his safe return.

“May the sun shine, all day long,
everything go right, and nothing wrong.
May those you love bring love back to you,
and may all the wishes you wish come true!”
~Irish Blessing

In fact, to ease the goodbye process (for me) I told him I wanted to make him something and asked him what he would like. He, knowing about my gluten free lifestyle as well as this blog, told me he wanted cookies.

“What kind of cookies?” I asked. 

“Chocolate,” his reply.

So I looked to Ruhlman’s book, not necessarily reading the fine print about how this was a shortbread cookie recipe and it didn’t spread. Meaning, the first batch were rolled into balls, thinking that they would. About one-third in on the cooking time I pulled them out of the oven and smooshed them down with a spoon. 

The result? Meh…

I tasted them and realized they were much too dry, likely from the cocoa powder. I didn’t want to give him a mediocre cookie. I wanted to give him something that he would enjoy, not just the sentiment behind it. So the next batch I tried unsweetened baking chocolate... and pressing them down before putting them into the oven. ;)

The result? Totally “See you later” worthy.

(I also want to give a shout-out to my awesome Daddy-O for getting me an electric mixer for Christmas. It really helped make these cookies spectacular and look forward to future recipes using it.)

"I Wish You Well" Chocolate Shortbread Cookies

2 oz Agave nectar
2 oz Coconut oil, room temperature
2 oz Baking chocolate
1 Egg
1/8 tsp. Salt
1/2 tsp. Baking powder
1 oz Peanut butter
1 oz Quinoa flour
1 oz Amaranth flour
1 oz Arrowroot
1 oz Buckwheat
1 oz Millet

Preheat the oven to 350°F.
Combine the agave, the coconut oil, the egg, the peanut butter and the baker’s chocolate until thoroughly mixed.
Fold in the dry ingredients gradually and mix until a uniform dough is combined (note: the dough will be rather sticky, but will easily form).
Using a tablespoon-sized measuring spoon, roll the dough into balls and place on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper, and press them down to the thickness you want. 
Bake until cooked through, about 15 minutes or so (note: because there is relatively little fat, these cookies will not spread out as they bake and will have a satisfying crunch).

Makes 12 cookies.

Loving Yourself: Chicken Pot Pie for One

I’ve been considering body image lately. Since last week I’ve pondered why there’s such an obsession with having the perfect body. I was sitting with Mama Dazz, talking about typical mother-daughter things until I spied old photos of me on her computer desk. In one photo, I must have been in fourth grade the time it was taken, as I was wearing the P.E. uniform for the school I had transferred to when my parents had separated. I was giving the peace sign along with two other kids in my class, and noticed something interesting. Despite my rounded face, I was similar in body to the fairly skinny girl on my right. The other photo was of me in fifth grade, with short hair and eating party sweets. That was the year puberty hit, and I was slightly fuller than the year before, but I wasn’t that big.

In a way, people are like cats...

“I wasn’t as big as I thought I was,” I mused, “and I was rather cute.”

“Oh, you were beautiful, Morri,” Mama Dazz replied. “You always were.”

Different breeds = different kinds of beauty.

Enter the flashback of my puberty years: Mama Dazz comforting while I cried, thinking I was ugly, fat, and stupid. She had this mantra that she would tell me every time this happened. She would hold me and tell me “It will get better… It will get better.” I tried to believe her, but it never set in, not really. I thought I was going to be fat and ugly and stupid forever.

I looked down at the photo of the smiling fourth grader that was me and I say out loud: “What happened?”

True, I wasn’t the healthiest kid. I was sick often, disliked exercise, and was a picky eater. But when puberty hit, and I was seemingly the only girl in class that was rounded and developing differently, I began comparing myself to the others. As far as I was concerned, if I were thin I would be liked. If I were thin I would be pretty. If I were thin the boys would ask me out. If I were thin I would be smart.

This is not how a fifth grader should be thinking.

Mama Dazz pointed something out to me that I thought was fascinating. From her generation to now women are more inwardly critical than they used to be. Meaning, we are more accepting of other women and how they look than we do with ourselves. What’s more, what we see in the mirror isn’t what other people see. Our reflections are so distorted that it takes a photograph from years ago to point out just how beautiful you actually were.

I for one believe there is no such thing as the ideal body type. From the toned and angular athlete to the curvaceous plus-sized babe, from the lanky gamer to the Buddha with a cherub face, there is beauty in every person.

True beauty is loving yourself in every sense of the word, making sure you are happy, healthy, and whole. You don’t have to squeeze into a size 2 to be considered attractive, or have muscles bulging through your clothes. 

I admit I have these relapses where I look in the mirror and nitpick at my “imperfections”. I sometimes say to myself, “Just a few more inches… Just a few more pounds… If only I were taller… If only…” Why, just this morning as I was shopping for skirts and dresses for the spring and summer weather, I ended up putting the majority of back because of this type of thinking. And though I felt I looked amazing in the things I did buy, I was frustrated because I didn’t find what I was looking for.

Clothes don’t make the person, and neither does the flesh or fat. The frustration I was experiencing wasn’t in regards to the skirts I tried on; rather, it was because I was timid and uncomfortable wearing them. For years I’ve been balancing what it meant to be a woman in today’s world, for if I was too feminine I wasn’t strong and if I was too masculine I wasn’t a woman. I chose masculinity for power and strength and muscle because it was the safer route. I could compete with men in a way that I couldn’t with women. As a result, I lost a part of myself. And that part of me rather liked dressing up in frilly things.

So ladies and gentleman, I cannot stress this enough. It is time to take a stand and revolutionize the way we look at ourselves, and the way children and adults alike feel about their bodies.

If someone hasn’t told you this today, let me be the first: You. Are. Beautiful.

Chicken Pot Pie for One

For the filling

3 Frozen chicken tenderloin pieces

5 Heirloom tomatoes (or 5 cherry or 1 Roma), halved

1 Carrot, cut into smallish chunks

1 Celery stalk, coarsely chopped

1/2 Small white onion, finely diced

1/2 Orange bell pepper, sliced thinly and cut into chunks

1/3 c. Frozen petite peas

2 Cloves garlic, coarsely chopped

1/4 tsp. Sea salt

1/4 tsp. Pepper

1 tsp. Arrowroot starch

For the crust

1/2 c. Cooked Arborio rice

1 Egg

1/2 tsp. Baking powder

2 tsp. Glutinous rice flour

Preheat the oven to 350°F.

Put the ingredients for the filling (not including the arrowroot startch) into a saucepan over medium heat with water just skimming the top.

Once the chicken is just cooked, cut into small pieces and place back in the pan.

Cook for one hour on medium-low heat.

Drain all of the liquid from the pan (there shouldn’t be a lot, but I recommend saving it for another recipe), and use 1/4 c. of the stock to make a rue with the arrowroot starch.

Pour back into the pot and cook on medium-low for fifteen minutes.

While that is cooking, add into a mixing bowl the ingredients for the crust until thoroughly combined.

In an oven-safe bowl (one you won’t mind eating out of), pour in the filling first and then add the crust on top.

Bake for thirty minutes or when the crust is completely cooked through.

Serves 1.

Peanut Butter Coco-nana Slurp

Before blogging and all of its wonder, I couldn’t wait to eat the plate of deliciousness in front of me. Typically I had to have my meals so hot that it was still bubbling as I put a spoonful into my mouth or so cold that even penguins would get brain-freezes. I was more concerned with eating the food at the right temperature that I would scarf up my meals so quickly you thought I had to be somewhere.

Remember to stop and smell the roses... or photograph dandelions. That works too. :)

Until now.

I realized why the Armour Thyroid wasn’t helping me at much in the mornings. I was eating breakfast too soon after that it was absorbed into the food and not into my body. Since that realization, my morning routine has taken a pleasantly different persona, and I am relishing the art of the time put into my meals, both in preparation and consumption.

With the Armour Thyroid to consider, I have to wait anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour before eating, though drinking my morning cup of Joe doesn’t seem to affect the hormone. I usually wait for that warming, tingling sensation I feel in my hands before I get to work on breakfast. That is when I know it’s in play.

So what do I do for those precious minutes that I can’t eat? I drink coffee, read, blog, and contemplate the wonders of the Universe. You know, typical Morri stuff. Yet this difference in time management has helped me take my time with food throughout the day, and all the things food had to be isn’t as important.

Taking photos and the artful placement of ingredients of my recipes has also helped me elongate the dining experience. Whereas before it was more about the touch (or the temperature on my tongue) and the taste of the dish, it has become a symphony of the sensory escapade: I acknowledge the look of the dish, both behind the camera and not, taking the time to analyze the colors and textures I see; I smell the aroma it gives off in the kitchen, tantalizing my nose with specific scents each ingredient provides; If I can, I touch the meal with my fingers and relish the textures on my fingertips; I feel the temperature as it enters my mouth and admire how that alone can warm you or refresh you to the very core; I hear the food “talking” as it is prepared on the kitchen counter, as it boils on the stovetop, as it chills in the freezer, as it visibly releases steam on every spoonful; I taste more than I ever have with the acknowledgement of the previous senses.

And finally, at the heart and soul of it all, my spirit shines and enlightenment results. My spirit is fulfilled with all the senses considered and treasured. I am fuller, exceptionally content at every meal, and feel significantly more rewarded when I contemplate the time and effort and love I put into something that will nourish my body.

Mind you, I do get excited with every recipe that I tend to get impatient and have a taste before I know it’s done. The result is a Morri hopping around the kitchen doing the “Hot! Hot! Hot!” dance, or sighing knowing full well it isn’t ready yet. Typically it’s the latter, but sometimes I am the Lord of Dance incarnate.

This recipe called for such patience, though I was looking for something refreshing and cool over something heavy and sizzling. It’s a lighter variation of Aubree Cherie’s Peanut Butter and Banana Mash Pudding from Living Free. I really like her concept, and her blog in general, but felt it would be too rich and heavy for what I was looking for. I used more lemon than it needed, so I suggest using juice from 1/4 of a lemon at maximum. I did like, however, how filling yet revitalizing it was. Since I tend towards acidic foods, this alkaline-rich recipe is nice to have on hand. Plus, it can be served as a drink, a breakfast, a lunch, a snack, and a dessert.

Peanut Butter Coco-nana Slurp

1 Banana
1 tbsp. Peanut butter
1 c. So Delicious unsweetened coconut milk (or less, if you want it thicker)
Juice of 1/2 a lemon (or, to taste)
1 tbsp. Chia seeds

Mash the banana until lump free, then mix in the peanut butter.
Slowly add the coconut milk and stir until thoroughly combined.
Add the desired amount of lemon juice and the chia seeds.
Put in the freezer to chill for fifteen to twenty minutes, more if you want a creamy “milkshake” concoction. (You can also eat it as is.)
When chilled to the desired temperature, pull of the freezer and be immediately refreshed.

Serves 1.

Rainy Day Warm Salad Trinity

Yesterday was a weird day, and weird days call for a combination of comfort and creativity. Cold and rainy, making the earth below an extravagant sight of bold colors, I felt dinner should embody that. I wanted comfort, but I wanted something light. I wanted layers with compatible tastes, but to have something different with each bite.

I don’t know about you, but a warm salad was exactly what the Morri ordered.

I combined three warm salads and layered them into one delish bowl: chicken, potato, and veggies. Next time I plan on making a hollandaise sauce for the top, but the parental units enjoyed a dollop of mayo with tarragon flakes just the same.

Rainy Day Warm Salad Trinity

10 Chicken tenderloin pieces, steamed and cute into bite-sized pieces
2 Russet potatoes, peeled, cubed and boiled until soft
3 c. Frozen French green beans
2 Carrots, peeled and julienned
1 Yellow bell pepper, thinly sliced
1 Leek, cut long ways in half, then into chunks
2 Garlic cloves, coarsely chopped
1 tbsp. Dijon mustard
1 tsp. Tahini
3 tbsp. Olive oil
Salt, to taste
Mayonnaise (with tarragon), as garnish (optional)

In a steamer, cook the chicken until fully cooked.
Once cooled to a safe handling temperature, cut them into bite-sized piece and set aside.

In a medium-sized pot, place the potatoes (peeled and cubed) into salted water that just covers the pieces.
Let the water boil until the chunks are cooked through but not mushy.
Drain and set aside.

Preheat the oven to 375°F.
Place the frozen green beans, the julienned carrots, the thin pepper pieces, the leek chunks, and the garlic onto a greased baking sheet. (Make sure that the veggies are laid flat and not on top of one another.)
Sprinkle salt on top.
In a small measuring cup, combine the Dijon mustard, the tahini, and the olive oil.
Mix until thoroughly combined and pour the mixture on top.
Place in the oven for 45 minutes, up to an hour, until the carrots are soft and some browning has occurred.
Pull out of the oven, and layer the bowls with the potatoes on the bottom, the veggies in the middle, and the chicken on top.
Dollop some mayonnaise on top of the chicken, with a sprinkle of tarragon for flavor.

Serves 3.

Forbidden Coconut Macaroon Breakfast Bake

Despite finding this morning’s weather to be similar to yesterday’s, the offness I felt has disappeared and only happy thoughts are left. Saturday mornings are the best, even when you get up earlier than you expected. The coffee tastes better, the breakfast isn’t rushed… and the cartoons are funnier.

Yes, I am aware that I’m a senior in college and still watch cartoons. But there’s nothing quite like sipping coffee while laughing to reruns of the “Rugrats” or “Phineas and Ferb”, though “Ed, Edd, n Eddy” still has a special place in my heart.

And then there’s “Chowder”, where food and cartoon magic combine.

(source)

“Chowder”, created by C.H. Greenblatt, only recently became a personal favorite. In the mystical city of Marzipan, Chowder, a young cat-bear-rabbit creature boy becomes an apprentice to a chef named Mung Daal, who owns a catering company. Truly a magical place where the creatures are named after food, the ingredients are weird and extraordinary, and the recipes are as imaginary as they are creative. This show, although very much a vivid and colorful surrealistic interpretation of cooking, is exactly the kind of reality people should have when making a meal. There is an attention to detail, to the senses (good and bad), to color and texture. These are things I believe people view to be out of reach nowadays.

But there is a select few that know better, that turn the eating experience from something fictional to something tangible. With cooking, nothing is impossible unless you think it is.

If you can imagine it, you can make it. It’s as simple as that. (In fact, that gives me an idea...)

This rainy morning made the outside vivid in green and other earthy colors, the birds chirping, the boyfriend sleeping, and the cats demanding “out”. I decided to put my imagination to the test and finally make that breakfast bake, and make it right this time. As I added the ingredients I thought of how I wanted it to look, how I wanted it to taste, how I wanted the texture, how I wanted the color.

After three (or four) attempts, I believe it is finally Edible Perspective (and “Chowder”) worthy.

Ashley, I hope you like it.

Forbidden Coconut Macaroon Breakfast Bake

1/2 c. Forbidden rice (a.k.a. Glutinous Black or Purple rice)
1 tbsp. Coconut flour
1/4 tsp. Baking powder
1/8 tsp. Sea salt
1 tbsp. Chia seeds
1 tbsp. Shredded coconut
4 tbsp. So Delicious coconut milk
1/4 tsp. Vanilla
1 Egg
Cinnamon and nutmeg (to taste)

Preheat the oven to 350°F
In a mixing bowl, add the ingredients and mix until thoroughly combined.
Pour the mixture into a greased skillet, the smallest one you have.
Place the skillet into the oven for thirty minutes or until set.
Once done, use a spatula to get under the breakfast bake and place it on your plate.
Garnish with whatever catches your fancy. (I sprinkled a little coconut milk and added a dollop of peanut butter for mine.)

Serves one. 

Rainy Days and Lattes

As I waited for yet another Morri “Classic” to finish up in the oven, my self-reflections were continuing on where my last post left off. I felt the heat coming off in waves from the kitchen in comparison to the coolness of the rest of the house, and how people embody that warmth with the meals they cook.

This is it. This is the reason why I cook, the reason why I love cooking for others. The warmth from the kitchen is born from the oven turning on, the stove-tops alight, and the presence of the person preparing their latest masterpiece. That same warmth seems to travel from the person cooking the food to the appliances to the food to the person cooking the food to the people eating the food.

Truly it is a phenomenal cycle, filled with loving intentions and care. I may have said I was joking about opening a restaurant, but after Andy Shallal’s talk and the image of Busboys and Poet’s dancing in my head, it has become more than a consideration.

It is becoming a vision.

Bella's Bistro in Simrishamn, Sverige

I romanticize the restaurant business, the dynamics beyond what guests see. Though it’s not just any type of restaurant I idealize, but the quaint locally owned café. Coffee and I go way back. As in, almost eighteen years back. Yes, I’ve been drinking coffee from a sippy cup since I was two, three parts milk and one part of the dark stuff with a little sugar. Shaken, not stirred.

When I graduated from high school I realized my passion for coffee went beyond big business, and I set out for locally owned establishments to work part time. I found myself behind the counter, completely Zen while learning the art of coffee, perfecting the espresso, making a café latte from scratch. Opening and closing were my favorite times, turning on and off the machines, wiping off the counters, listening to music play, and talking with my coworkers. Oddly enough, my times as a barista didn’t last very long. The first time I went to art camp for the summer and came back to the coffee shop overstaffed. The second time I came back from being in Sweden, and it ended up closing down.

I still remember the aroma of the espresso heavy in the air, the heat of the milk as it was frothed and foamed, the smell of chocolate, the taste of quality tea behind the counter. I miss those days, but I still remember the art.

The boyfriend's and my tea date last year

And I took the art home with me.

In Sweden they have this thing called a fika. In my travels blog, I wrote about the wondrous fika often. Fika means "coffee break", which in Sweden implies a true-blue break in the day with a cup of coffee or tea and a sweet. Along with paid lunch breaks, the Swedes are given two fikas during their workday, one in the morning and another in the afternoon. I fell in love with the concept so much I even hosted a few while abroad, but tea was my drink of choice. After getting sick early in the semester, I started having tea in the afternoon before dinner. Since I came back, the tea has been altered slightly into various chai latte concoctions of my own design. 

And on this rainy day, I tried Yerba Mate for the first time. It warmed me to my toes.

So, for those who do not know about coffee and tea, they are prepared in different ways based on the ratio (there's that word again) in which they were prepared.

There is the cappuccino: 1 part espresso, 1 part hot milk, and steamed milk foam on top.
There is the Americano: 1 part espresso, 2 parts hot water.
There is the black eye: 2 parts coffee, 1 part espresso.
There are countless variations to your personal taste, but lattes are my drink of choice.

The Yerba Mate latte didn’t disappoint.

Yerba Mate Latte
3 parts steeped Yerba Mate in hot water for three to five minutes
1 part frothed or steamed milk
Sweetener, to taste
Dash of nutmeg

In your favorite mug, add the Yerba Mate and sweetened.
In a smaller mug, froth up the milk using a hand blender (or if you prefer steamed milk, put it over the saucepan until hot).
Add the milk to the tea, with a dash of nutmeg on top.

Serves as many as you like. :)

The Fickleness of Spring and Healing

Spring is possibly the most capricious of all the seasons. It was a mere two days ago that the campus had clear blue skies and the sun warming our faces. There were more people outside than there were in classes. Runners breezed by fashionably clad students, enjoying the heat on their shirtless backs while listening to goodness-knows-what on their iPods.

Wednesday was a good day, a crepe-based day.

I enjoyed Thursday’s cooler weather, the winds playing tricks on girls with short skirts and long hair. Environmental awareness booths sprang up to celebrate Earth Week, talking with students and faculty alike about sustainable energy and growing produce on campus. Since I had my camera with me, I decided to record the liveliness of campus on my way to my interpersonal conflict resolution class at 1:30 p.m.

And again, on my way to the car.

I spend my Thursday evenings at home with the folks. I get to cook dinner, drink tea and watch a movie with Mama Dazz, and maybe talk shop with the Burt-man if he hasn’t gone out to play tennis or D&D. I usually fall asleep with a cat or two on my legs, sleepy and content underneath the warmth of my Jersey knit t-shirt sheets.

Then, I wake up to today. It’s Friday, my day free of class and the start of the weekend. I sleep in anywhere between 8:30 and 9:00 a.m., make myself a mug of Joe and plop myself on the sofa to watch cartoons and eat some breakfast. Today’s breakfast was my second attempt of the rice breakfast bake, only I used the entire egg, a tablespoon buckwheat flour instead of amaranth flour, and 1/4 teaspoon of vanilla. I also put it in a small iron skillet so the bake would cook all the way through, though I think I didn’t keep it in the oven long enough.

The result was similar to yesterday’s, but I’m getting better. Actually, I have a really cool concept for tomorrow’s breakfast bake. It will be Edible Perspective worthy, I assure you.

As for the weather, it was the polar opposite to the warmth and sunshine celebrated on Wednesday. I woke up to a cloudy morning, cold and wet. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy this type of weather, because I do. I lived in Växjö, Sweden’s version of Portland, for the fall and winter months last year. Weeks went by where thick clouds blanketed the town and the sun was absent from view. I enjoy rainy days and cool weather, but today was different.

Today, I felt off. Not like the hustle and bustle on campus yesterday and the day before.

Originally I planned on going to the gym after going to the bank, do an hour of running and half an hour of weight lifting. But as I neared the campus, heading to my dorm to pick up my work out gear, I decided against it. Clearly my body was telling me it didn’t want strenuous activity today. And if my sessions with Cheryl have taught me anything, it’s to trust what my body is saying and to listen.

Still I wondered why I was feeling so peculiar. Could it be that I needed a chill-pill after the vigorous week I had? Could it be that my body was responding to the weather changing to such a low temperature overnight? It has been three days since I changed my Armour Thyroid dosage from 30-30 to 60-30. Is my body reacting to that?

When I was first prescribed Armour Thyroid, my body was acting like it was New Orleans celebrating Mardi Gras. Everything about anything was amazing those first few days. I felt productive, attractive, and energetic. My mood wasn’t a crazy roller coaster ride, linked to my hunger or quick to change. True, I still see the metamorphosis, but it’s quieter, calmer, and not as noticeable.

For some reason my calorie counting has come back, though it isn’t as bad or as obsessive like it was before. I have to remind myself of the lessons I learned reading “Eating in the Light of the Moon” by Anita A. Johnston PhD. and her take on labyrinths.  Though it may seem you are going backwards, you are really moving closer to the center. I may have made it to the center, but now it’s about taking path back out. I am taking the same journey I took before only in a different way, so naturally the things I overcame will still frequent the grounds.

The kicker is how I am the second time around.

This journey is turning out harder than I thought. If I were to be completely honest, I was expecting a complete turnaround in a matter of two weeks, a month at most. Almost all the changes I’m experiencing are internal, generally emotional and mental, sometimes physiological. But my preconceived notions of what I was expecting the Armour Thyroid was going to do for me has been significantly different than to what I am undergoing as of late.

As of now, my hands and feet are warm, my body temperature has risen to a normal range. I am not hungry unless I am physically hungry, and only eat at those times. My mind is alert, my heart is open, my words are honest without fear, my demeanor is calm and, as mentioned previously, my mood isn’t all over the place.

So, with all of these awesome things, what was I still hoping for?

I wanted physical change, an instantaneous cure overnight despite knowing that healing doesn’t work that way. I thought the Armour Thyroid would increase my metabolism, help my body rid itself of the unnecessary water weight I carried, becoming a whole new me. These two things have happened, but I was sort of expecting something more apparent. I’ll be frank here; I wanted rapid weight loss. With all those years of frustration, of the inability to lose weight and the faulty wiring that linked my head to my stomach, I thought it would be the Ugly Duckling story incarnate. I thought I would shed off the old Morri and the new Morri, Morri 2.0, the Goddess of health and happiness, would come forward. And I see her, a blurred reflection in the mirror. She’s almost here; I just have to wait.

I keep telling myself I chose to walk down the labyrinth, that the old Morri’s troubles are still within its walls. They come at me as I walk back to the opening of the maze, but they are not as tangible as they once were, their attacks not as effective, their images slowly fading out of existence.

I am learning and relearning the differences between healing and curing. These terms are not synonymous, though they tend to mingle and sometimes work alongside the other. Healing is a process that never quite ends, one that requires constant evaluation and adjusting. But curing is different. Curing is a quick fix, a process that can happen over night. Really, I wanted a bit of both, instant fixes that only got better and better. Sometimes I think my healing efforts are going backwards, especially when my hands are cold or my throat has that “choked-up” sensation.

But now I realize why cooking has such a mystical affect on me. As you begin the process of making a meal, you combine ingredients, adding one at time and tasting as you go, and sometimes the end result isn’t what you expect, though sometimes it is. Then you make it a second time, a third time, maybe even a seventh time.

Then, you get it right. And it’s the best feeling in the world.

The "Not Really a Breakfast Bake" Rice Bowl

Ah, the joys of being a morning person. I simply love waking up to the soft morning light gently warming my face, the memory of the wonderful dream I was having still fresh in my mind, my tummy grumbling for attention similarly the way my cats sit on my chest and paw at my nose to be fed and let outside.

It’s a wonderful feeling.

I think my favorite time of day is around 8:45 in the morning. Rain or shine, Spring or Winter, there is something about the morning I adore. I tend to wake up before my alarm goes off on most days, then I plop on my flesh-eating bunny slippers, head downstairs and think about what my body wants for breakfast.

But first, coffee…

I have what my parents call "the smooshy face" in the morning, my eyes slightly closed, my body relaxed. My morning routine is calm and unhurried, something I need this early in the day. I use these quiet hours to prepare myself for the hustle and bustle of my day to day life, and tend to get over-stimulated when my routine is disrupted with noise and vivacity.

For your safety and overall well-being, let me have those precious hours of tranquility. It is likely that I will decide to eat you. So tread lightly, for here, there be Morri’s.

(I am actually a lot brighter and more accepting to liveliness in the mornings on most days, but sometimes, when I’ve had a late night, I prefer stillness and quiet.)

I say this because the morning is my downtime for the fun adventures ahead. But for the last few days, I’ve had to cut my morning routine short, getting up especially early in the mornings, and going off to do things I needed to do before noon. This morning was the first in almost a week that I could sleep in an hour more, take it slow, and have the time to try out something new for breakfast.

Ashley from The Edible Perspective has been mentioned on my blog before. Her breakfast bakes have been very appealing to me as of late, and her quirky can-do personality is catching and a delight. The only downside was I don’t have the some of the ingredients on hand to try out some of the recipes she’s posted (yet). Also, my tummy was acting a little off, and I was curious as to whether or not it have to do with the rolled oats I had been eating every morning for the past few days. I decided to give my body a rest and try out something new. 

After my last attempt on a breakfast bake using oatmeal, I thought of using some of the sweet brown rice I had on hand and incorporating part of Ashley’s breakfast bake ingredients to keep it together.

The result was similar to the last time I tried making a breakfast bake. There was a nice crust on top but remained soft and unstable on the bottom. I think it had more to do with using such a small pan to cook it in, instead of the ingredients and the amount of the ingredients used. Next time, I’m using a bigger pan and will post the outcome.

It may have not been what I was expecting, but it was very delicious and extremely satisfying. The egg white made the baked porridge creamy and rich, with a soufflé-like taste and texture. I didn’t use any type of sweetener except a spoonful of fruit preserves on top.

Before I knew it, right when I was digging in for another bite, I had gobbled it all. 

Next time, it will be the breakfast bake similar to the ones found on Ashley’s blog. But for now, it was just the change of pace my stomach was looking for.

The "Not Really a Breakfast Bake" Rice Bowl

3/4 c. Cooked sweet brown rice
1 tbsp. Amaranth flour
1/4 tsp. Baking powder
1 Egg white
4 tbsp. So Delicious Unsweetened coconut milk (or whatever milk you have on hand)
1 tsp. Chia seeds
1/8 tsp. Sea salt
1/4 tsp. Cinnamon
1 Shimmy of nutmeg
1 tbsp. Maple syrup (optional)
1 Slab of butter (to put on top for baking)

Preheat oven to 350°F.
In a medium sized mixing bowl, combine all of the ingredients except for the butter and mix until the batter is consistent (you may have to break apart the rice with a spoon).
Pour into a small pan (or a larger one, so it becomes a sturdy breakfast bake), lay the butter on top, and place it into the oven anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour.
The recipe will rise much like a soufflé and gently fall.
Put the porridge into a bowl, with your choice of sweetener and garnish on top.

Serves 1.

Grain-Free Savory Crepes

The University was alive in color yesterday. I couldn’t help but be awed by the clouds rolling in the distance while the campus was basking in sunlight. There were girls in maxi dresses and sandals, walking with purpose in their natural feminine swagger. There were boys in their fraternity t-shirts, offering one of their brothers up as a target for a dollar an egg. Groups of twos and threes lazed on blankets in the grass, listening to music, studying, and gossiping.

It was a beautiful day, a gorgeous day in fact, that it seemed like a tragedy to be cooped up indoors. That may just be the most torturous thing a professor could do; deny their students a beautiful day. But really, they are stuck inside with us too, so we really can’t blame them for that.

I bring this up because this was likely one of the very few days I’ve witnessed the George Mason community stopping to smell the tulips simultaneously. As finals and graduation and other hectic things are weeks away, it seemed like the campus decided that there were other things more important than tedious PowerPoint slides and stressing out over which notes are relevant to the upcoming exams.

For once, the Universe and the weather told us concurrently “Enjoy today.” And it was a nice feeling, not taking life so seriously all the time.

I was (and sometimes am) what is called a “worrier”. The worrier is someone who is never at peace with themselves, insecure with what was, what is, and what will be. This is the person obsessed with the past, with all the things they did and didn’t do, all the opportunities that came and went. At the same time, they are equally as obsessed with the future, insecure with their own intuition and thus heading down the path of mediocrity simply because it’s the safest route. My “worrier” was rearing its nagging little head on Sunday, and for most of the night I was thinking of all the things I had to do this week. Mind you, with the workload I had anticipated, I would’ve been able to handle it. But on a Sunday night, when you’re certain the Armour Thyroid dose you’ve been taking isn’t enough and everything looks to be happening all at once… that’s when things get hairy.

Despite my worrier tendencies, I’m not much of a serious person. I do my best to not take life seriously. Does that mean I think life is a joke? Goodness, no! But when I see other college kids tearing their hair out and crying because the header for their final paper is a centimeter off, that’s when life is taken too seriously.

And honestly, there are just not enough hours in the day for such graveness.

I think there is this tacit expectation that we have to get life right every time, to be perfect in everything we do. These expectations, while it may seem like it’s great motivation or wonderful advice, in reality it just adds more and more stress upon the already strained shoulders of the student body.

We already have heavy books to carry around. We don’t need any more pressure.

Seriously though, yesterday couldn’t have been more perfect. Previous tensions seen in old friends’ eyes were significantly lessened, and there was a different mood heard in the voices throughout the campus. It was a lighthearted mood, a celebratory mood, an infectious mood. No one was immune.

I’m not the worrier I was on Sunday, nor the worrier I was on Monday. The things I had been fretting about since last week are no longer anxieties. I celebrate getting the summer internship I applied for. I celebrate having more time than I anticipated. I celebrate the finalization of CARmunity and look forward to next week’s interest meeting. I celebrate my official position as Officer of Diplomatic Affairs and Student Representatives for CARmunity. I celebrate the continuation of my journey in regards to health and healing. I celebrate my friend’s twentieth birthday (Happy birthday, E.!) I celebrate my inspirations, my recipes, and the random things that make me smile.

So remember this: the more time you spend on worrying, the less time you spend on celebrating. If I hadn’t gotten out of my own way, didn’t sweat the small stuff or worry over the things I couldn’t control, I wouldn’t have had the time to make the meal I did.

Although I must admit, I am quite proud of myself.

There seems to be a lot of things I’ve never made before, even BGF. First it was the biskies, now it’s these crepes. My first crepe attempt, actually. As in, my first crepe attempt ever. Grain-free too. And believe me when I say this, I was quite nervous.

Oh yes, my worrier was showing, but not for long.

I followed Ruhlman’s recipe to a “T” this time. I read and reread the directions until I could recite it from memory. I made the batter ahead of time before the boyfriend showed up for another Morri “Classic”. For one millisecond I thought I would screw up the crepes, at least the first one. But then I focused on how exciting making crepes for the first time was, how awesome this recipe was going to turn out, how epic this post was going to be. I came up with a way to getting underneath the crepe cleanly by the third one without hesitation, and the combination of flavors was better than I had expected.

You want to know what I didn’t do? I didn’t take myself seriously. I didn’t sweat it. That, along with my winning attitude and my patience towards every crepe, was the reason behind my success.

After dinner, the boyfriend and I talked about the meal. He and I both agreed that these crepes were to be for savory dishes solely, but I will do another crepe recipe specifically for a dessert or sweet breakfast. I’m thinking coconut, glutinous rice, and amaranth.

Yum.

Grain-free Savory Crepes, Chili Sin Carne Filling, & Kale

For the crepes:
8 oz Milk
4 Large eggs
1.5 oz Quinoa flour
1.5 oz Buckwheat flour
1/4 – 1/2 tsp. Sea Salt, to taste

Combine the ingredients and blend with a whisk or hand blender until they are uniformly combined.
Let the batter rest for half an hour in the refrigerator, up to a day if you would like.  
Heat your pan over medium heat.
If you are using a well-seasoned cast iron or crepe pan, or you have a non-stick skillet, you only need to wipe the surface with some vegetable oil with a paper towel. (If you’re using stainless steel, swirl a teaspoon or so of butter in the pan to coat the bottom).
Pour just enough batter to coat the bottom (I used the 1/4 c. measuring cup for consistency) as you tip the pan.
Allow it to cook untouched until it’s set, about a minute.
Gently turn the crepe and briefly cook the other side, about fifteen seconds.
Remove the crepes to a plate or rack as you make more. (The can be used immediately or they can be allowed to cool. Once cool, stack them, cover, and put in the refrigerator until you want to use them.)

Makes 10 crepes.

For the filling:
1 14.5 oz Canned tomatoes, drained
1 15 oz Canned black beans, drained
1 Small onion, finely diced
2 Cloves garlic, finely diced
1 tsp Chili seasoning (mine was homemade)
1 tbsp Olive oil

Combine the ingredients for the filling in a medium-sized cooking pot over medium heat.
Once the onion has softened, set it to low while prepping the crepes
In a large cooking pot, add the ingredients for the bed of kale on medium to high heat until cooked down.
When the crepes are done and the filling is cooked down, lay out a crepe and place a litter of the filling in the center.
Using your fingers, roll the crepe around the filling. Place the crepe seam side down on the plate so it doesn't open.
Your crepe is now complete. Put as many you think you can on your plate over kale.

For the bed of kale:
1 Head of kale, roughly chopped 
Drizzle of Olive oil
Water (about 1/4 c.)
1/2 tsp Crushed garlic
1/2 tsp Dijon mustard

Turn off the kale when the leaves have wilted and the stems have softened, but the greens still have a vibrant green color.

Serves 2, with a sure chance of leftovers.

Sweet Pea Pucker Smoothie

Is there such a thing as posting too many recipes in one day? It seems like I’m taking photos of everything food related, then posting it with a recipe. But at the same time, it makes sense because I’m working on getting used to my new Nikon D50 and, well, this is a food blog. Still, I fear the god of blogging may find my attitude overzealous and my offerings to be fickle and insincere, thus causing the rest of the deities in the cyber pantheon to make my laptop’s ability to do even the simplest of tasks harder than it has to be.

So far, lightning has not struck me from where I type. I guess that means I’m safe… for now. Unless, of course, my cell phone taking a spin through the washing machine is somehow related to my recent blogging habits.

Nah.

On a lighter note, this recipe was inspired by the oh-so green smoothie concept that seems to pop up now and then in various food blogs. After the first few times visiting Cheryl of Harris Whole Health, she wanted me to do two things: more seafood intake at least three times a week and more protein and vegetables throughout the day. The first two were easy enough, but the veggies? That was little more difficult.

Don’t get me wrong, though. I love vegetables. It was just a matter of fitting them into the before-noon meals that were a challenge. In the mornings my body wants a complex carbohydrate-based breakfast from whole grains, something to give me immediate energy and the comfort only hot cereals, quick breads, and porridge can provide. It occurred to me, however, that I rather liked smoothies, and having one around noon or in the early afternoon sounded wonderful.

The outcome was a complete success.

It is an extremely refreshing drink, filled with vegan greenage goodness. I highly recommend it while enjoying the sunshine on a not so cloudy day (Or on any day, for that matter). Flip flops are encouraged, but not required.

Sweet Pea Pucker-Up Smoothie

1 Ripe banana
7 Frozen mango chunks
3/4 c. Frozen petite peas
1/2 c. So Delicious unsweetened coconut milk
1/2 Lemon, juiced

Put all the ingredients into a blender.
Mix until smooth.

Serves 1.

Sunday Morning Bisckies

The minute I woke up I was on a mission. The house had seven adults, one baby, and two cats sleeping in various rooms of the house, something not unusual for a Sunday morning. My parents’ home is a haven for visitors after a Saturday night filled with food, hilarity, and tomfoolery. The people who stay with us are considered extended family, and I always see it as an opportunity to cook up something new.

As said in the previous posts, I’m the first one officially awake in the mornings, especially on the weekends. (I know, I know… I’m breaking the college kid stereotype, not sleeping until noon, etc.) Since being on Armour Thyroid, I’m not awake because my stomach forcefully demands sustenance. I’m awake because I choose to be.

And this morning, I chose to wake up before my 8:30 alarm went off. Since the majority of the adults (and the eighteen-month-old, oddly enough) were awake until two in the morning, I felt I could put a breakfast together before they began looking for caffeine and edibles. I had to my disposal eggs, bacon, coffee, a plethora of fruits, gluten free flours, milk, butter, my food scale, the kitchen, Ruhlman’s book, and a vision.

My vision was a brunch of epic proportions, of people sitting at the table drinking coffee and eating their fill of the food I put out. But I was concentrating on one particular part of the brunch, one that, as a gluten free person cooking for gluten eating people, I wanted their honest opinion.

So I made biscuits. Well, okay… not biscuits. I promised I wasn’t going to call them that. You see, they had the right taste of a biscuit, the right crust of a biscuit, but as we were hosting a family from North Carolina and southern biscuits reign supreme, I had to call them something different. After all, I'd never made a biscuit from scratch before, even BGF. It was quite a funny conversation, actually.

Sometimes I feel people just tell me what I make is good because they’re afraid I’ll be devastated or refuse to ever cook again or something just as silly. But really, I look for constructive criticism. In fact, I crave for it. Why? Because I can always improve in the kitchen, that’s why. By eating something, gluten free or otherwise, and you (the eater) feel it needs tweaking, by all means tell the person what you liked and suggest what you’d change. As long as you do it with best of intentions, believe me, they’ll be grateful for it. I know I always am.

Please don’t say that it’s simply good. Provide detailed reasons why you thought it was good, or great even. And if they ask you what you would change, tell them that too. They asked you for a reason.

I do believe I think it would have been more biscuit-like, however, if I had the right tools for it. Paul and Mary, our guests from N.C. (parental units of a wonderful sweet pea of a girl, Freya, as seen above), told me they liked it. But Paul was very clear that, to him, it wasn’t a biscuit. He thought it was like a breakfast cookie of sorts.

“Was it edible, at least?” I asked the five adults sitting around the table, the baby filling her cheeks with forbidden rice and scrambled eggs, her face stained purple and her elbow in Mary’s bacon.

“Oh, it was more than edible. It was very good,” Paul replied, “but from where we are, this would not be considered biscuit. It’s a breakfast cookie.”

And so, the debate ensued. For a while people argued it as the English version of a biscuit. Some just referred to it as a round. Others demanded it be thought of as a cookie. But in the end, as I was driving back to campus, I officially dubbed it the bisckie, as it had the characteristics of both, but not quite either or.

I can live with that.

A few people at the table even mentioned it would make a wonderful canapé base, maybe even a bagel, but it was yummy just with a slab of butter and a drizzle of honey on top. The next time I’m going to fold it more, pay attention to Ruhlman's directions of putting the dough in the fridge for another hour, maybe add an egg to help it rise. Paul and I spent the remainder of the meal discussing whether it would have been better a thicker round, or thinner. Until next time, i.e. next weekend, I suppose.

This is the kind of talk I love having. I made a good recipe, but now I know what could make it better.

Sunday Morning Bisckies

2 oz Glutinous rice flour, plus extra for dusting
2 oz Amaranth flour
1 oz Quinoa flour
1 oz Coconut flour
1 oz Millet flour
2 oz Arrowroot starch
2 tsp Baking powder
1/2 tsp Sea salt
3 oz Butter
6 oz Milk

Set a mixing bowl on a scale and pour in the flours, baking powder, and salt.
Weigh out the butter, then rub and pinch the butter into the flour so that it is well distributed into fragments and small chunks (the largest no bigger than peas).
Pour in the milk and combine just until the dough is formed (there will be whole chunks of butter in the dough).
Put the dough into a 4x6-inch pan, cover with saran wrap, and refrigerate for at least one hour.

Preheat the oven to 400°F.
After the hour is up, unwrap the dough and lightly dust it with flour.
Roll the dough out to about three times its size on a floured countertop or board, still maintaining the rectangular shape.
Fold it into thirds and roll it out again.
Cut the dough into rounds (or squares, if you like) with a ring cutter or a thin glass.
Bake for about 25 minutes, or until done. (Halfway through I flipped them over so they would have a nice brown crust on both sides.)

Yields 10 bisckies… and 1 taste test. :)

The Weekend and Chai Oatmeal Apple Crisp

 I love my weekend visits home. For two awesome days I get to make meals for the parental units, have a chance to relax and catch up on reading and sleep, be part of the cats’ shenanigans, and simply be at peace with life.  

Typically I am the first person to wake up in the mornings, and Saturday was no different. It was very soothing to listen to the rain tap on the window in the kitchen as I made coffee, thinking of Ashley from The Edible Perspective and her breakfast bake. I ended up with an oatmeal crisp of sorts, though not necessarily what I was aiming for; but still, practice makes perfect, and it was delicious. 

As for today, since we have a house full of guests and extended family members, I will be making biscuits. Wish me luck!

 

Chai Oatmeal Apple Crisp

1 c. Leftover Rooibos red chai tea
1/2 c. Gluten free rolled oats
1 tbsp. Chia seeds
Slab of butter
Salt, to taste
1/8 tsp. Cinnamon
1 Granny Smith apple, finely chopped

Preheat oven to 350°
In a small saucepan, combine the tea, oats, butter, salt, and cinnamon on medium heat.
Finely chop up the Granny Smith apple and set aside.
Once the oats has been at a boil for a few minutes, add the chia seeds and whisk until it is evenly distributed.
After ten minutes or until the oats are almost done, turn off the heat and add in the apples bits.
Stir a few times or until the pieces are thoroughly covered, and place the saucepan (or another oven-safe dish) into the oven for 40 minutes.

  

The result is a crispy layer, soft melt-in-your-mouth apple chunks, and a rich, scrumptious experience in every spoonful. Drizzle on your favorites: honey, maple syrup, jam. For this recipe I mixed a tablespoon of peanut butter with two tablespoons of So Delicious unsweetened coconut milk.

Serves 1. Enjoy.