Friday, May 16, 2014

The Herbivore Transition

Stress is a black hole. It sucks your energy with vigor, and worse, it spreads like a disease into other aspects of your life. You feel vulnerable and hopeless. You feel self-doubt come in like a neighbor to your inner critic, and they gang up on you like the bullies they are.

I graduate with a Master of Science in Conflict Analysis and Resolution at the end of this summer. With my internship school requirements completed, I remain in Malta to gain as much experience as possible while searching for a potential career. I want to find something that combines direct services with youth, education, sustainable development, conflict resolution, and food. But the search has soured somewhat, and I wonder if I will ever find something like that. It’s hard to explain to people that I don’t want just the career; I want the life that goes with it, and that includes CK and I finding a way to make that happen together.

And so I’ve tried to find ways to encourage my creativity in various outlets, but that’s hard to put on a CV. It’s hard to turn ‘I’m awesome’ into a technical term and reason why organizations should hire me.

But the beauty and inspiration behind the stress is how many organizations and initiatives are actually out there. The conflict resolution field, although it’s something I have to explain from time to time, is growing. So I know there’s a place for me out there. Until then, I am content working through my internship and learning all I can for the next seven months in Malta.

One of those learning experiences is the transition to vegetarianism. 


It’s been a fairly easy thing to do, actually. Those with food sensitivities, allergies, and health/moral-based diets have to find other ways to fill the nutritional gaps when entire food groups are cut out. I admit that being gluten free, soy free, and cane sugar free is a challenge sometimes, and it has been a journey to figuring out the balance of health, fun, and moderation. I went through a time where certain foods, if ingested, resulted in a panic attack. I thought that if I ate certain foods, all my efforts to being healthy (old paradigm code word for 'thin') would be wasted and BAM!, instant return to the awkward, sad little girl I used to be.

Malta has given me the ability to not take it so seriously, and I’ve even gone so far as to facing my food fears more than once. My fear of fried foods had pretty much disappeared when CK made British style chips in coconut oil.  It was such an amazing experience, a moment where I enjoyed the process of making and eating something I hadn’t had in years. We also experimented in making fried zucchini flowers, lightly breaded and cheese stuffed. It's only a matter of time until I make donuts...

I’m not sneaky. I wear my fears on my sleeves and in my actions. Typically, instead of using a certain amount of oil or sugar (honey) a recipe calls for, I’d substitute it with a banana or some peanut butter. I still use bananas as a sweetener replacement, but now because my palate finds a certain amount of sweet to be too much. As for the oil, I’ve focused on how foods make me feel, and incorporate oils and protein in every meal as consciously as possible.

... and coffee

Back to the vegetarian thing. As I've said before, CK was born and raised as a vegetarian, and he has shown me the importance of protein and fats. Being the cheese fiend that he is (living in Rome surrounded by such a variety of cheeses will do that to you), I came to enjoy cheese as a protein source. Even before the whole rabbit thing, I wasn’t eating very much meat anyway. It was a deliberate shift that I have been doing for a couple of years to cut out or remove meat from my diet. But in Malta, I started to notice that the meat I did get (chicken typically) left me feeling, for lack of a better word, oily. I didn’t feel nourished or wholesome. The whole rabbit thing left a permanent mark on my psyche as an animal-loving individual. After the second and third time feeling the same way, I decided to take on the vegetarian lifestyle. 

What a gluten free herbivore eats...

... and sticking to what I believe in

Being a gluten free die-hard vegetarian is tough though, especially in the Mediterranean where there’s bread, pasta, and pastries everywhere. Often times the only gluten free thing in a Mediterranean restaurant is meat. When I was visiting Rome for the second time, CK’s parents were also there. We went out to eat quite often, and I remember a restaurant that didn’t have any gluten free thing on its menu, but the kitchen was kind enough to make a dish with cooked steak slices over arugula. Even though Italian restaurants are starting gluten free pasta and bread more often, I don’t expect every one of my sensitivities to be met on the fly; so when something gives in order to go out, I either need to eat ahead of time or step out of the meat-free circle.

While stress tends to bring out the inner critic and the focus on the food I am [not] eating, or the exercise regimen I am [not] doing, cutting out meat hasn’t affected me other than positively. I’m actually eating more and maintaining my metabolism just fine. And you can imagine how creative you can get with the same ingredients in different dishes.

So this isn’t an official “Meals with Morri is going vegetarian” announcement, but saying that I’m mostly vegetarian or “I’m vegetarian with the occasional steak/burger/fish/chicken stew” makes it sound like it’s a fad or a trend. It isn’t. I eat food that makes me feel the most wholesome, and do my best to know what doesn’t in order to limit or remove them from my intake. I don’t think eating meat or products from animals is a bad thing, and not because they tend to be delicious. I find the way we treat them in factory farms and the use of hormone-laden foods and vaccines to be inexcusable. But I am more than willing to support farms and other local initiatives that have similar ethics and beliefs on animal raising, care, and slaughter. The fragile symbiosis we have with the flora and fauna is a beautiful thing when done correctly, and I think it needs to be more apparent in how we eat. 

Warm Lentil Salad
250 g Brown lentils
1 Red bell pepper
1 Onion
2 Garlic cloves
1 tsp. Mixed herbs*
1/4 tsp. Cumin
550 ml water
2 tsp. Apple cider vinegar
1 tsp. Olive oil
1/2 tsp. Sea salt
1/4 - 1/2 tsp. black pepper

Thoroughly wash the lentils and allow them to soak at least an hour.
Rinse and pour the lentils and water into a medium-sized pot over medium-high heat.
Add the remaining ingredients and cook until the water is absorbed and the lentils are soft (more or less 30 minutes).
Pour on top of noodles, rice, (in my case) quinoa, potatoes, or additional veggies.
Can be served hot or cold, and topped with cheese, lime, or avocado is a guaranteed delight.

Makes 3 – 4 main dish servings.

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Why Cooking Together is the Best Thing You Can Do as a Couple

Yesterday, CK and I celebrated his birthday. During the time when he is in Rome and I am in Malta, we have gotten really good at the whole long distance thing. I've had quite few people ask me how it is we're able to handle the distance, especially since it's been almost 1.5 years now. The truth is that the situation isn't always sunshine and rainbows. Sometimes, the distance gets to us. Sometimes, it feels like we'll be long distance forever. But the way we combat it is planning the future (be it trips or what it will take for us to be living together at the start of 2015) and using Skype during our time apart.

Skype has made long distance relationships so much easier to manage. We Skype daily and do things together that way: gaming, reading to each other, watching movies, doing our own thing while the other is working on something else, and cooking. Cacio e pepe was the first of much foodie fun we’ve done via Skype, and it’s brought me to the conclusion that cooking together provides a series of lessons in improving how you interact as a couple.

CK and I in Rome a couple weeks ago. (Yes, I've cut my hair...)
Photo's courtesy of CK's Mama Bear

CK is the first person that has consistently shown interest in cooking with me from start (prep) to finish (on the plate). Quality time is so important to me, and that it can be done in a tangible way that we can both enjoy has made our relationship so fulfilling. For years I made meals for my family, usually by myself (it was my responsibility at home when I wasn't at school or working), so imagine my surprise when someone insisted on being part of the process! 

I believe the reason why Meals with Morri has been so quiet lately has to do with the fact that I’m not cooking meals for others anymore. It takes out all the fun to make something when there isn't anyone to enjoy it with you or to say it's "blog worthy" (thanks, Mama Dazz). Since coming to Malta, I’ve cooked plenty, but the desire to make recipes and take photos just didn't seem so appealing anymore. But with overcoming homesickness and loneliness, I’ve started working with baker’s yeast again. I am healing from various fears that revolved around eating (like fried food and treating myself to dessert now and then), and I’m actually eating to thrive and not to simply eat enough. And finally, after months of being in a funk, making recipes with the aim to share it with the world seems like fun again.   

Cooking together is an amazing form of communication. I’ve struggled with being upfront with my emotions and what I needed, but you can’t be anything less than direct in the kitchen. You can’t say “Maybe I need you to crack some eggs” or “You don’t have to grate the cheese if you don’t want to even though I need it done and I'm currently sauteing the onions.” You can’t expect someone you’re making a dish with know that you wanted them to preheat the oven or get water boiling unless you let them know that’s what you want. A chef doesn’t expect their kitchen to be mind readers, and neither should you expect or be expected to read your partner’s mind. You also learn to honor your feelings without the need to justify them.

Another aspect of cooking together is honoring the support you give and receive, and understanding the balance of giving and taking. Sometimes that means there is a kitchen leader, where one of you calls the shots (gives directions), and the other follows and does what is needed as instructed. Having a gluten free blog doesn't automatically make me the leader all the time. In fact, when he makes me soup or takes over cooking when I'm stressed out or sick is the most amazing thing ever. From this balance of power I’ve learned it’s okay to be selfish and to say no once in a while, that you can and should make time for yourself when the need arises. Having the right to say no and not be sorry for it is a new commodity for me, and it also means giving you and your partner some slack to not having to be on all the time.

My motivation to posting also declined when a recipe wasn't just right...

I try to tell him how much I appreciate our time together in the kitchen as often as I can. I know he isn’t doing it because he thinks it will make me happy, and that is really important to the both of us. He doesn’t feel obliged, and it isn’t one-sided. He tells me how empowered he has become learning the art of gluten free (and vegetarian) cooking, making more things from scratch than he ever did before we met. And he’s transitioned from the stance that the ‘gluten-free’ aspect of the recipe has to taste like it isn’t. Like everyone new to gluten free cooking, we initially try to replace and substitute wheat/gluten in such a way that is has to look and taste and act like it isn’t gluten free, so now it isn’t ‘gluten free’ waffles or ‘gluten free’ muffins… just waffles or muffins. He doesn’t say “Hey! This is pretty good… for gluten free.” He says, “Oh my God, this is amazing” or “We should try it [this] way next time.” I cannot emphasize the importance of sincerity, and that is a very significant piece as to why our relationship works so well (both in and out of the kitchen, while we’re together and when we’re doing the long distance thing). Throughout the stress of finishing up grad school, living alone in Malta, and job searching for 2015, he helped bring back the spark in making amazing meals and enjoying good food. We have quite a list of foodstuff we want to make, and hopefully we can turn it into a webshow soon after I’ve gotten a grasp on filming and editing.  

One of CK’s favorite flavors in baked goods is lemon poppy, so we decided to make lemon poppy quick bread and drink margaritas over Skype. It was a combination of Ruhlman’s ratio for quick bread and this recipe. Neither of us had a zester, so we used lemon juice instead. He also used yogurt instead of milk, and he said that it worked really well. After singing him happy birthday and cheering as he blew out the tea light candle, we toasted with the margaritas and enjoyed our lemon poppy creations.

CK's photo of his Lemon Poppy Quick Bread

The moral of the story is that love doesn't just happen. True love isn't true because it's perfect: it takes work, communication, honesty, sincerity, and appreciation. If you want to improve any relationship, be it parent-child, partner-partner, sibling-sibling, friend-friend, or me-myself-and-I, try being in the kitchen more often and make something that you can enjoy together. 

Lemon Poppy Quick Bread / Muffins

120 g Brown rice flour
120 g Garbanzo bean flour
120 g Honey
1 tsp. Sea salt
1 tsp. Baking soda
240 ml Whole milk
2 Large eggs
120 g butter, melted (if salted, omit sea salt)
4 tbsp. or 80 ml Lemon juice
4 tbsp. or 28 g Poppy seeds

Preheat the oven to 350°F or 175°C, and grease the pan (a 12-cup muffin tin or a 9.5” pie pan) with your oil of choice.
In one medium-large bowl, combine the dry ingredients (flours, salt [unless omitted], baking soda, and poppy seeds and set aside.
In another bowl, combine the eggs, milk and honey, and add the mixture to the dry ingredients.
Add the rest of the ingredients to the batter, and pour it into the pan.
Bake for 50 minutes to one hour, or until the top is golden brown and the knife is clean when you check for doneness.

Makes 1 quick bread/12 muffins, or 8 – 12 servings.