Change is the only constant

                                                                                

  Growing up in an island in the Caribbean, one rarely experiences seasonal change.  Sure, there are certain flowers that bloom in May, and certain fruits that do best in the Summer, but it's pretty much hot and muggy all the time, and the vegetation is lush and colorful year round.  Maybe because of that, I have always been fascinated by the changing seasons.  I remember my first fall in Hyde Park NY. It was so energizing and fascinating to see the colors change almost daily, and to see in one street, several different colored trees, and the contrast of their leaves against the blue or grey sky. We lived close to a national park named Burger Hill, and I would go on early morning hikes to see the foliage from the top of the hill.  Breathtaking.

When I moved to San Francisco, although the weather patterns were quite different than those of the island, the seasons were still not very pronounced when it comes to temperature.  Food, however, was a completely different story.  I learned to recognize the seasons based on what fruits and vegetables were available at the farmers market, and as years passed, and I became more and more familiar with them, I was able to anticipate the arrival of some of my favorite based on what month or week it was.

                                                       

Eating seasonally and locally have become quite the trends in our day and age.  It seems as if both words are thrown at us left and right in devious marketing schemes, meant to promote companies and benefit shareholders.

   However, eating locally and seasonally really is good for us:  If we  really try to go back to basics and focus on procuring the bulk of our food from local sources we will therefore support small businesses and our local economy and community.  And as far as the seasonal goes, we can get so much more from our food by committing to enjoying what is available now.

Let me explain.  I grew up in an island where apples can't properly grow.  Due to imports, we could buy apples back home.  My mom rarely did, but my aunt always did.  Falling true to the human adage of "the grass is always greener" my brothers and I always wanted apples.  However, I don't actually  remember ever enjoying one until I finally had an apple from an orchard in Vermont.  The ones from my childhood were bruised and mealy, and the skin would peel off from the flesh when you bit into them.  They were dry, and honestly didn't really taste like much (no comparison to our sweet, juicy, flavor exploding mangoes, papayas or pineapples...).  So, eating apples in the Dominican, that have been picked weeks prior to being sold, hundreds or thousands of miles away, is not a very flavorful experience.

On the nutrition front, we are on the same boat.  When fruits and vegetables are at their peak of ripeness, they are at their fullest of nutrients.  From a biological standpoint, if allowed to grow and mature on the plant, they will develop the most nutrients possible, indulging in their natural processes, taking what they need from the soil, water and sun in order to thrive.  The moment they are picked, their nutrient content starts to slowly diminish, as they no longer have these sources of energy to allow them to live.  Basically, once they are picked, they are dead.  And the closest you can eat them to when they are alive, the most you can get from them.

                                                       

  Then there is the variety aspect. When we always eat the same things, we always get the same nutrients.  So in order to meet most of our nutritional needs from our food, it is imperative to eat a variety of foods.  If we eat seasonally, once again, there is no choice but to switch things up.  In doing so, not only do we benefit from a health point of view, but also from a creativity stance.  Much like the changing seasons, which make you notice a tree that you never had before when it's in bloom or when it's leaves are changing from a certain shade of green to countless shades of yellow or orange, eating seasonally makes you get out of your comfort zone and eat fruits and vegetables that you might have never thought of before, and in turn discover something you might love.  And then, you get to enjoy it for the season, and look forward to next year, when it shows up at the market again. 

                                                  

                         

  Last week, there were some chestnuts in the CSA box.  I have probably had chestnuts only a handful of times before, and it has almost always been at a restaurant.  Having no idea how to approach the hard shelled little balls, they have always been a mystery to me.  A very delicious one, but still, a mystery.  I remember my first thanksgiving in the states, at my friend E's family's home in upstate NY, we roasted some chestnuts.  For whatever reason, the procedure completely escapes my mind, and all I can remember about the cooking process is looking at E's back as he pulled the chestnuts out of the oven, their sweet scent filling the air.

  This week, more chestnuts arrived.  I decided to tackle the task at hand and researched a bit on the best way to cook them.  To my surprise, it's not time consuming or hard at all.  After about 10 minutes of preparation, and 45 minutes of roasting time, I had some amazing roasted chestnuts to snack on. I was happy I finally challenged myself to cooking them.

 Below is the recipe for this tasty little treat.   I hope this post will encourage you to notice your patterns and habits, in relationship to both food and life, and to try to break at least one of them, at least once.  You might be pleasantly surprised from what you might find.

Roasted Chestnuts
2    handfuls    Chestnuts (sorry, that was my measurement...)
2    TB            Butter, melted
1    sprig         Rosemary, coarsely chopped
                       Salt and Espelette Pepper to taste (you can use cayenne or paprika instead)

Preheat the oven to 400.
Using a small, but sharp paring knife, core the chestnuts on their round side, forming an x.

                                                 

Submerge them in a bowl of hot water (to help steam them).  Drain and pat dry.  Line a cast iron pan with a large piece of foil.  Toss the chestnuts in the butter and rosemary.  Generously season with the salt and Espelette.

                                       

Place in the middle of the foil piece, and crunch up the edges to form a pouch, leaving a large opening at the top.

                                            

Bake for 30 to 45 minutes, or until the skins start to peel off from the inside of the chestnuts.  Enjoy!

 

 

Good croissant, bad croissant

                                                      

  This morning, I arrived bright and early at the studio.  My shift begins at 7:30, and I was opening the doors at 7:23.  As I took in the morning energy of the lovely neighborhood that is Lincoln Square, with all its residents getting ready for their day, walking to the train or walking their dogs on their way to grab their morning cup of coffee, I remembered that a French pastry chef works at the corner coffee shop.
  As some of you know, I am always on the search for a good croissant.  Always... I have been tipped off by my coworkers that the ones for sale at the coffee shop are divine.  So, even though I brought enough food from home to feed myself through my multiple hunger pangs today, I decided I would splurge and treat myself to a croissant and do a little reconnaissance of the talented pastry chef's baked goods.

  As I opened the door to the shop, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sounds of the espresso machine being put to work again and again delighted my senses.  I immediately spotted the croissants, strategically placed in the corner of the display case, facing the door as you enter the space.  They did indeed look legit.  Perfectly golden brown. My gluttony sensors had been awoken.

  I walked up to the register and patiently waited for the girl behind the counter to finish pouring a fresh cup of coffee to the lady in front of me.  She had brought her own reusable stainless steel cup.  I appreciated her effort, as I knew that not only was it better for the environment, but her coffee would also taste much better out of her reusable mug, than it would out of a flimsy paper cup.
  After exchanging courteous greetings with the clerk, I asked her for a plain and a chocolate croissant.  I figured I would try them both out, because, why not? She placed them both in a brown paper bag, I paid and went back to the studio to begin my work day.

  Once the first class of the day was signed in, I washed my hands, and set my self up for breakfast.  I spread my orange cloth napkin on the counter, and set both croissants on top of it.  I poked them each, and the dough slightly crackled under my fingers, releasing a few bits of brown buttery goodness onto the napkin.  Good sign.  I decided to start with the plain croissant, since in my opinion, even a mediocre chocolate croissant is good, but a plain croissant can be great or awful, depending on the level of skill, love and craftsmanship of the baker.
                                                                    

  I pulled at both ends of the crescent shaped bread, to break it in half.  To my disappointment, the layers of dough didn't slowly unfold from one another  the way they do in a perfect freshly baked, buttery croissant.  It had a lot more resistance than I was hoping for, and my suspicions were confirmed once I took the first bite.  Instead of melting in my mouth, this croissant was a bit chewy, almost gooey. Oh well, it was still a croissant. I ate half, as I had already decided upon purchasing it that it would be my breakfast, and then I moved on to the chocolate.  Once again, not as fresh as I was hoping for... I put both halves back in the bag, and within minutes I felt incredibly full, and a bit gross.
 
  As the morning progressed, I couldn't shake off that sensation from my stomach, and I beat myself up several times for overindulging and purchasing two different pastries, when I actually had breakfast in my lunch box.  I didn't feel good all day that day and I wondered many times if it was just a bad day for the baker, and I chose the wrong day to try out the croissants.
  Then I thought of how I tend to correct myself (and others) for the misuse of the word "need" ( not to be confused with the word "want").  And it dawned on me, that sometimes, we could really benefit from not only using the correct word as we express our desires and feelings in sentences, but also of considering, before making a choice, if it is a need or a want, and if we really want to follow through with it.

   Had I taken the time to consciously debate whether or not to purchase the croissants, I would have ended up talking myself out of it as I already had too much food for the day.  And perhaps on another day, when I hadn't brought food and was hungry, I would have gotten a croissant, and it would have been wonderful. Instead, I now think of the croissants at the corner coffee shop as just ok, and due to my hard headed nature (thanks Dad :)) there is a good chance I won't try them again any time soon.

                                                       

 A few days later, as I was teaching a class, I noticed my student trying to force himself into extended side angle pose (Utthita Parsvakonasana). Although he could technically do it, he wasn't really ready for it.  Instead of his spine lengthening,  and space being created around his rib cage and his chest, in the way that a body who is flexible and strong enough to be in the full expression of this particular asana will , I saw the opposite action occurring, starting from his hips, and following all the way to his neck and jaw muscles. There was crunching, and tension, and absolutely no length whatsoever. 

  " Just because you can, it doesn't mean you should" I heard myself telling him.  " You can get more benefits from this pose if you back up a little, instead of forcing yourself into it through ambition.  Listen to your body, and accept where it is today, without comparing it to yesterday, or to someone else's".  As he backed up, and rested his forearm on his thigh, instead of reaching for the floor with his hand, I saw his chest open, his spine grow, and his face relax.  And I immediately thought of the croissants: " Just because you can, it doesn't mean you should..."

  The truth of the matter is, we almost always react rather than act.  And of course, sometimes, it's ok - or even good - to do something just because we can.  But in most cases, we could really benefit from having an internal dialogue in which we ask ourselves the purpose, as well as the possible consequences of our actions.   By really considering our actions and choices, we could prevent many potential mistakes, and save ourselves - and often times others - a lot of time, trouble, and even money.

If we practice being present, and a bit of awareness towards ourselves, we might find that in many cases,  even though we can, we probably really shouldn't, and will definitely feel a lot better knowing that we didn't...




 

It just tastes better....

                                                      

    I usually wake up before my husband does.  I make myself some coffee and then sit on the little window nook and read while I slowly wake up.
My coffee is usually wonderful (some days a little better than others) with the bitterness, acidity, earthiness, and the sweetness from the raw sugar delighting my taste buds as I sip.

Some mornings though, J rises before I do.  And on those mornings, there is an extra element to the morning coffee routine, that for whatever reason, just does not register when I make it for myself:  the aroma of freshly brewed coffee lacing the air.

   I remember the first time I went to Napa with the family I used to nanny for.  They own a lovely little cottage in St Helena, and the guest bedroom is outside, off the patio.  I was awaken from a restful sleep by the smell of coffee traveling from the main house, all the way to my nostrils. Seven years later, when the smell of fresh coffee wakes me up, I still think of that moment, and of how wonderful a way to wake up this is.

  Two mornings ago, as I lay in bed trying to summon the strength to peel my body of the sheets, the same intoxicating perfume sneaked itself in the bedroom.  And then it hit me:  it never smells like this when I make it for myself!

                                                 

   Now, I'm sure there is some scientific (neurological, psychological or whatever) explanation of why this is.  My theory however, is that everything always tastes better when someone makes it for you.  Because when you are eating or drinking something that someone else made for you, you are dwelling in gratitude, either for that person, or for the simple fact that you did not have to make it yourself.

   Since my morning coffee is as much ritual as it is the plain need for caffeine to aid me in waking up, the smell of it plays a great role in how wonderful the experience is.  And the fact of the matter is that it just tastes better when J makes it for me...
                                               

 

  This got me thinking about all the foods that taste better when someone else cooks them.  As a professional cook, I unfortunately don't get invited to dinner often.  Many friends and acquaintances tell me how much they love cooking, but then add that they would be too nervous to cook for a professional.  Most of my chef friends and I agree, that a home cooked meal, made with love and intention, is a thousand times better than any restaurant meal could ever be.

  And when we do get invited over for dinner, we always enjoy it so much more than when we make it ourselves.   As a cook, being able to sit down in someone's home, and eat a full meal not prepared by you, is a humbling and heartwarming luxury.

  It's not about who can prepare the best roast.  It's about how much care and intention went into it. And when I speak of intention, I don't just mean the intention of the people preparing the meal, but also the intention of the folks who are consuming it.  I am convinced that gratitude makes that food taste better, and be better for you.  Which made me question why we are often so quick to thank others, yet so slow to thank ourselves...
                                                        

                                                 
    With this in mind, for the next few mornings, as I sip my coffee that I will have made myself (my new schedule has me rising before sunrise, so there ain't no way J is making my coffee) I will breathe in gratitude. 
  For hearing my alarm, for having two legs that can get me out of bed,  for having a reason to do so, for having a fully functioning brain and body that can make my coffee for me,  for having delicious fresh Dominican coffee beans hand delivered by my mom, for having multiple vintage coffee mugs, hand selected at various thrift shops around the country, that brighten my day when I see them,  and a lovely little window nook, above a fully functioning radiator, with a view of Paris and the Seine river (from some really old wall paper but hey... still Paris) where I can enjoy this precious nectar while I greet the new day.

  I will think of J, and his loving kindness, and sip in gratitude for having found a mate who once in a while, is willing to make my coffee for me.

  I am certain that bringing gratitude to the equation, and intention to my routine, will open my heart,  and maybe even my olfactory receptors,  and the room will instantly fill with the bittersweet scent of freshly brewed coffee.

                                                         

The abominable eggplant part 2: a lesson in acceptance.

                                                     

  One of the perks of my new job is free yoga classes (I know!).  A few days ago, I took a class with a lovely woman named Dede.  She is fun, joyful and energetic, and has one of those smiles that literally light up the room when she walks in.  As she guided us through the sun salutations, to the beat of the carefully selected soundtrack she was playing for us, I opened my arms in Virabhadrasana and the word "receive" showered my whole being.  As we danced through her sequence, syncing breath and movement, every time our arms were either up or laying on the floor, I found myself facing my palms towards the sky and feeling that word, which by now had turned into an emotion, enveloping my body and soul: receive.

 On my way home, a crazy  man decided I was the person that he wanted to chat with while waiting for the bus. At first, I kindly smiled at him, but tried to keep reading.  Then the word came back to my mind: receive.  I closed my book and engaged in conversation with him. Once we parted ways I felt lighter.

  Instead of trying to fight a battle that I was never going to win (trust me, he wasn't going to stop talking just because I wasn't listening, he was completely coo coo) and creating aversion by focusing on how I thought things should be (me catching up on my reading while waiting for the bus)  I surrendered and accepted the moment as it what,  and in turn experienced a sense of calm and harmony with the world around me.

  Later that day, as other little annoying or unwanted things arose, the word kept coming back to my mind, inviting me to accept, for it is all part of the path.

                                                            

  Which brings me to the abominable eggplant. As many of you know from a previous post, this has never been one of my favorite vegetables.  And in true "Murphy's law" fashion, the CSA I signed up for grew more eggplant than anything else this summer.
  As a matter of fact, it's October and those eggplants are still showing up every Wednesday.  The first few weeks, I would ignore them, and then reluctantly throw them into a stew when they were almost going bad.  Or roast them, and chop them up and freeze them for when the winter is here and there are NO vegetables. I even made ratatouille, as peppers and tomatoes were also abundant for a few weeks.  But in all those preparations, I still did not enjoy them.

 After my "receive" revelation during practice, I changed my attitude towards my eggplant friends.   I decided to receive them with love and affection. If they were showing up, they were meant to be in my diet, so I should accept them, and find a way to enjoy them.  What do I love that is made with eggplants?
Well. I LOVE dips, so in the past, when eggplants would somehow infiltrate themselves into my kitchen, I would always make melitzano salata, the Greek eggplant spread.
http://www.offthematandintothekitchen.blogspot.com/2012_09_24_archive.html

    However, since it was the only thing I ever made with eggplants, I was a bit tired of it, so
  I decided to find out what other cultures eggplant dips were all about, and  before I got my next inevitable eggplant delivery, I stumbled upon David Lebovitz's post on Baba Ganoush. Bingo! (http://www.davidlebovitz.com/2008/07/baba-ganosh/ ).   His recipe was extremely simple, and other than waiting for the eggplants to roast, it was also pretty quick.

                                                                 

 

    I have made baba ganoush three times already, tweaking it here and there to keep it interesting (I added cilantro, used lime instead of lemon, a pinch of Espelette pepper...) and it has been wonderful.  I love having dip ready to go in the fridge for when I want a quick snack (and I always want a snack!), and the fact that it's healthy is such a bonus. A full serving of vegetables (two if I use carrots or celery to scoop it with) in dip!  Once again, delicious AND nutritious!

                                                

 A few nights ago, as I enjoyed my lovely eggplant dip,  I thought of how our labels limit us from receiving the gifts that the universe might have in store for us.  By thinking and saying that I don't really like eggplant, I was stifling my creativity to cook something with it that I would actually enjoy.

 In the same way, when we become attached to preconceived notions of ourselves , either inflicted to us by our parents and teachers, or by our past selves, we limit our ability to experience the full spectrum of our character, and even our choices.  This is also true for the labels we choose for others, our relationships or even mundane tasks in life. Once again, by holding on to the idea of how we think things should be or are, we either create aversion to how they truly are, or prevent ourselves from  experiencing how they could be.

 When I first met J, due to preconceived notions I had of him passed down from some mutual friends and acquaintances, I didn't think much of him.  Had I not shifted my perspective, I might have missed out on one of the greatest gifts I have ever received: our love and our marriage.

When we open ourselves to accept and receive life as it is, we open the doors to discover new and exciting aspects about ourselves, others, and in my case, my husband, and the no longer abominable eggplant.

                                                         

Old blog, new blog, same blog, more blogging!

                                                         

    Dear Readers,

 I hope this post finds you well.  A lot has happened since last time we were here.  Among other things, I just started a new job at a yoga studio, and my work schedule between there and the restaurant has gone through major changes.

  As you all now, I tend to easily fall in an out of the writing wagon.  But when I am writing I am happier, and when I am not,  words keep visiting me in sentences and paragraphs, at all hours of the day,  yearning to be typed or scribbled.

 With my new schedule I actually have an extra day off every week, which I plan on using as my writing day. I now will have no excuses for not writing at least one post a week.

As all in life is ever-changing, I felt the need to give my blog a little makeover. I switched up the web address, the title, and a few other details.

The focus of this new blog will still be food and cooking (and still delicious and nutritious food) it will just be infused with more reflections from my wondering mind and soul.

  I hope that you will all enjoy and welcome the changes.
Thank you for your interest and support, and keep on reading!
Ana

Tom Kha Gai & Avgolemono Hybrid

                                                   

  One of my favorite quotes ever is Ann Wigmore's: "The food you eat can be either be the safest and most powerful form of medicine, or the slowest form of poison." I happen to agree with her one hundred percent, and the fact that so many people are completely oblivious to this fact breaks my heart in a million pieces every time I think about it.

However, this post isn't so much about the food itself, but the act of cooking it.  Whenever I am sick, I cook.  Whenever I am sad, I cook.  Whenever I am anxious, I cook.  And by the time the meal is finished, regardless of whether it was a giant multicourse dinner or just a simple pot of soup, I always feel better.  Even if it's just a little bit.

                                              

   I know that If I don't feel well, cooking may sound  counterproductive: expending energy that I don't have to prepare something that I am not even sure I will want to or be able to eat. 
But cooking is my therapy.  When I am cooking, I am present.  It is a form of meditation, where the smells and colors of the ingredients are the focus.  And the meal that they will transition into is the goal.  And just as in meditation, we transcend the ego and commune with our true self, the spirit. When cooking, I quiet the mind and all the rubble that is always so active inside of it, and connect with my spirit, which guides my hands and tells them just how much salt to add.

  Today, as I try to make sense of my stomach and body aches, I keep telling myself I need to eat something so I don't feel so weak.  But everything sounds awful, and my stomach turns at the thought of every single thing in the fridge.

  Over the years I have realized that there are two things, that no matter how ill I feel, always sound good, and more importantly, always taste and feel good once I sit down in front of them and prepare myself to ingest them: avgolemono and tom kha gai. 

                                                   

  The first one, is a traditional Greek soup.  Lemon, chicken and egg yolks create a creamy, filling and heartwarming dish.  Back in the days when I worked in the kitchen at Kokkari, I used to eat it in the summer months with fresh corn and chopped cilantro on top.

  The second one is a traditional Thai coconut soup.  It can be done with chicken or vegetarian.  Eaten over brown rice it is filling, luxurious, and comforting to both the taste buds and the stomach.  A friend of mine once said to me: "Tom Kha makes me happy!"  I have to agree.

                                  

And as I sit here, writing these words, trying to summon the energy to get up from the chair and walk myself into the kitchen, the thought of one of these two extraordinary soups, steaming in a bowl in front of me, give me hope that I will feel better by the end of today.

The problem is I don't really have the ingredients to make a proper tom kha gai, but the thought of silky coconut milk and cilantro are really making me imagine a healthier and happier me. Then again, the thought of avgolemono evokes strength and appetite... On the other hand, I don't even have any chicken.... Well I think I have enough stuff to make something in between the two.  It's settled: a hybrid it is!

                                     

  Below is the recipe for what I prepared, using whatever I had in house (fresh delicious vegetables from our CSA box delivered on Wednesday) mixing it all up, not following any particular recipe but instead listening to my spirit, telling me what to put in there, so that I could heal my body, and in turn my soul.  The result was delightful, and it did indeed make me feel better, even if it was just a little bit...

Tom Kha Gai - Avgolemono Hybrid

Ingredients:
1       quart       Stock (homemade is ideal, store bought can be perked up)
1       ea            Onion, diced
2       ea            Garlic Cloves, crushed and chopped
2       ea            Cans of coconut milk, full fat, no additives
4       ea            Padron Peppers, sliced. (These were from the CSA, feel free to substitute with   Anaheim, Cubanelle or whatever you've got)
1       ea           Jalapeno Pepper, finely chopped
1/4   bu           Cilantro, finely chopped
2      ea            Limes, zest of one, juice of both
2      tsp           Fresh ginger, grated
2      TB           Cornstarch
1/4   cup          Lemon Juice
3      ea            Egg Yolks
1      ear           Corn, kernels off the cob (this was also from the CSA, feel free to add any veggies you have, or some chicken breast or thighs if you wish)
                        Salt to taste

Method:

   In a heavy stock pot, sauté the onions, peppers, ginger and garlic in some coconut oil (if you don't have any, you can substitute with olive oil) until translucent and fragrant.  Add the cilantro and deglaze with a little stock and salt.

                                                     

   Once it's sizzling, add the rest of the stock.  If using store bought, bring it to a boil, then simmer gently for about 30 minutes, to infuse the stock with the flavor of the sofrito. Otherwise, add the coconut milk and the corn and simmer for about 20 to 30 minutes. 

                                                

  Once the flavor of the soup is where you want it,  add a little cold water to the cornstarch to make a slurry.  Slowly whisk the slurry into the soup and bring it back to a boil. 

                                       

  Meanwhile, whisk the lemon juice into the egg yolks.  Once the soup starts to boil it will thicken considerably.  Turn back down to a simmer, and slowly whisk in a little at a time into the egg yolk and lemon juice mixture.  This is called tempering.  You want to add a little at a time while whisking constantly to prevent the eggs from curdling.  Once your egg mixture is nice and hot, add it into the soup, stirring as you add.

 
Bring the soup back to a gentle simmer, adjust the salt and acid, and voila.  Enjoy over brown rice.

                                        

The Gluten Free Experiment: Days 2 & 3

                                                        

It's interesting how hard, and how easy it is at the same time to give something up from our diet (or our lives for that matter).
For my 31 years of life I have been eating gluten, without thinking about it twice.  All of a sudden, just because of a decision to try something out, I think about anything I am considering eating before
actually doing so: does this have gluten?
Days 2 and 3 were particularly interesting.  One of those days was my day off, and the other the first day at work during the owner's vacation, time during which I am in pretty much in charge (extra stress and insanity included).

On day 2, setting myself up for success I cooked up a storm of gluten free deliciousness: quinoa with roasted beets, fresh peas and feta; grilled asparagus with dill, cilantro and lemon; "fakesoto" my famous brown rice risotto; heirloom beans with collards and bacon; among other things.

                                               

It was a beautiful Spring day.  Sun shining, blue skies, leaves and flowers fluttering in the wind.  My husband was making mint simple syrup to bring to work the next day, and the perfume of mint and sugar spread all over our house, screaming Mint Juleps in my ears.

                                     

As I put on my cutest and flirtiest face to ask him to please make one for me, I realized that I didn't know what grains were gluten free.  I asked him what kind of Bourbon we had, and he told me the brand name, as well as the two grains making it up: corn and rye...
I jumped online to find out if rye was a culprit, and to my dismay, it was indeed.  No Mint Juleps for me...

                                              

Later that day, I was making Chicken Cashew (one of my in laws recipes).  We make a variation of this dish at least every few months.  It is a simple chicken stir fry, to which I always add a bunch of vegetables.  As I reached in the refrigerator for the ingredients to make the sauce, I decided to double check our soy sauce.  I had already thought about the fact that many soy sauces do contain wheat, however, the brand we use at work (where we go through gallons a week) is gluten free, and it is the same brand we have at home.  Alas, the brand makes two kinds of soy sauce, and the bottle in our refrigerator listed wheat as its first ingredient...

Here I am, in the middle of cooking about seven different things, pretty much ready for this sauce to be done, bottle of soy sauce in hand.  What if I just eat a little of this all week? I asked my husband.  He looked at me with the face he makes when whatever idea I am pitching is just wrong and I know it.  Alright, alright!
So I scrambled in the refrigerator to figure out what impromptu sauce to make to turn chicken cashew into something deliciously gluten free.  Asian BBQ it is!  Heirloom tomato ketchup, molasses, apple cider vinegar, sirracha sauce, lime juice. Voila!  It turned out really good.

At the end of the day, after all the chores were done, J surprised me with a delicious, beautiful, gluten free Mojito...

                                                    

 

The next day at work,  I was making bread for hours, and while waiting for it to rise decided to clean out my shelf in the walk-in.  I had a few cake batters, as well as cookie batters from previous tests, and thought it would be a great idea to bake them all for staff meal.  As we walked through the line that afternoon, my friend J (the lady who inspired me to try this gluten free business) and I were the only ones skipping dessert from the buffet.  Sweets are always such a treat at work.  No treat for us.

                                            

This is Day 4.  I am not sure yet if this change is making a difference in my pain level.  I think my knee and ankle pain have indeed improved, but the pain in the actual leg (shin, and inside the bone) are the same.  I think it is honestly too soon to tell, so as of now, I am just examining how this exercise in self restraint is affecting my mind and soul.  One thing's for sure, my creativity is getting better everyday, one gluten free meal at a time.