Mindful Meals – Page 8

Wherever You Are, There’s the Feast

Posted on November 19, 2009 by Cheryl Sternman Rule — 6 Comments ↓

by Cheryl Sternman Rule

Each November, everywhere you look, glossy magazines focus on Thanksgiving food: the turkey, the sides, the desserts. And that’s all wonderful, and important, but let me tell you something: the people who sit around the table, wherever that table may be, are the ones who make Thanksgiving memorable.

Fourteen years ago, my husband Colin and I served as Peace Corps volunteers in the East African nation of Eritrea. That November, come Thanksgiving, we hopped a bus and traveled from our little house in Decamhare to the town of Keren to gather at the home of two friends. All around the country, our fellow volunteers did the same–some rode rickety busses for three hours, some for eight, some for even longer. Although we were stationed far apart, we made the effort to celebrate the holiday together.

I recently emailed these old Peace Corps friends to ask them what they recall about our Thanksgivings in Africa and was struck by how wildly their memories varied. It was fun to piece together their reminiscences, and to spur a collective sense of nostalgia for such a unique time in all of our lives.

Here’s what they shared: Sarah says she thought our country director imported a turkey from Germany, although Devra claims it was from South Africa. Jannett isn’t convinced there was a turkey at all. “Did we actually have meat?” she asked. Kristen remembers her feelings about the spread without recalling specific foods. “I was beside myself at the variety and selection of food. Never has a Thanksgiving feast been so incredibly appreciated.”

Julie’s memories go to the following Thanksgiving, when we gathered at Adam’s house in Nefasit. She remembers that one group headed up the mountain to Debre Bizen, an ancient monastery, while others hung back to prepare the meal. She recalls dancing outside “in front of the fire, which meant we had music–Adam was good for always having music.” For his part, Adam remembers “going around Nefasit trying to get as much charcoal as I could find, which ended up being quite a lot. I remember there was lots of cooking going on during the day, but I can’t remember what we were cooking.”

And therein lies the most important nugget, the gem, really, of Thanksgiving. For all our focus on the food, on making it perfect, or beautiful, or right, the food is not what people remember. People remember the feelings of fellowship, and if my friends are any indication, they remember those feelings with tremendous joy. This is true no matter where you were, and what you may, or may not, have eaten.

So this year, reach out to friends and family from Thanksgivings past. Reconnect, reminisce, and be grateful for their presence in your life.

Cheryl Sternman Rule is a food and nutrition writer whose work has appeared in numerous national magazines, including EatingWell and Body+Soul. She is the voice behind the food blog 5 Second Rule.

Le Beaujolais Nouveau Est Arrive

Posted on November 17, 2009 by Kurt Michael Friese — 1 Comment ↓

This time of year, it’s tough to miss the signs . . . Le Beaujolais Nouveau Est Arrive! Is it just hype or should we hail the call? Kurt Michael Friese sheds some light on the matter.

Beaujolais is a region nestled between Burgundy and the Rhone just north of Lyon that’s known for their wines of the same name. Made exclusively from the Gamay grape, Beaujolais is a simple, fruit-forward wine (for France anyway) with high acidity and is broken down into three designations. Roughly half the production goes by the basic appellation of Beaujolais. A step up are the wines known as Beaujolais-Villages, which are grown in the hillier northern region. At the top, also coming from those Northern hills but named after ten villages which have earned their own appellations, are the Cru Beaujolais.

But hands-down the Beaujolais Americans know best is le Beaujolais Nouveau–a name coined by negociant George Duboeuf for youthful wine from any appellation in the region.

bn-post Despite its high profile, the history of Beaujolais Nouveau is not entirely novel; winemakers in the area have always produced a “vin de l’anee” (this year’s wine) shortly after harvest as a way to evaluate the quality of the vintage. In the 19^th century, in fact, the harvest and the wines were often heralded by the bistros in Lyon with signs proclaiming “Le Beaujolais Est Arrive.” But it all got taken up a notch in 1985 when the Institute National des Appellations d’Origine, lobbied by Duboeuf and other wine purveyors as a way to capitalize on weekend sales, set the third Thursday of November as the official release date for Beaujolais Nouveau.

Throughout the late 1980s and 90s, the date was highly hyped, with cases being shipped around the world and held in special bonded warehouses until one minute after midnight when they could be released. And there were stunts too: wine being delivered by helicopter, balloon, even by elephant. In the United States, Beaujolais Nouveau has been tied by Madison Avenue to the Thanksgiving meal and is said to be the perfect wine to go with roast turkey, stuffing, and grandma’s green bean casserole. Pessimists counter that it’s the perfect wine for the winemakers’ cash flow, and there’s a nugget of truth to both.

Beaujolais Nouveau can be a perfectly delightful wine. Fresh and fruity, light and “easy to drink,” it is a fun and frolicking dash through the park on a sunny autumn day. There are many producers, some even in the US now, but I prefer the Beaujolais Nouveau provided by French négociant Mommesin. A typical description might read something like “very aromatic, offering raspberry with notes of ripe banana and Juicy-Fruit gum. The flavor is tart raspberry with moderate acidity and a hint of tannin.”

So by all means get in on the fun and enjoy a glass with your friends. Just remember that on your holiday table, the best wine is the wine you like best when surrounded by family, friends, and wonderful food.

Kurt Michael Friese is the founding leader of Slow Food Iowa, serves on the Slow Food USA National Board of Directors, and is editor and publisher of the local food magazine Edible Iowa River Valley. He’s also Chef and co-owner of the Iowa City restaurant Devotay, a freelance food writer and photographer, and author of A Cook’s Journey: Slow Food in the Heartland.

Carving New Traditions

Posted on November 17, 2009 by Lia Huber — 4 Comments ↓

This summer when we took Noemi for a visit with family in Connecticut, I wrote a nibble about pondering the traditions you want to pass on. Now, as I sit down to write my take on Thanksgiving tradition, I’m taking that nibble for a little spin.

I’ll be honest; I never liked Thanksgiving all that much. The traditional dishes just aren’t up my alley and it always seemed like a whole lot of fuss for a meal that was over in thirty minutes. I played along, but it always felt like something I was supposed to love but never really, in my heart of hearts, did.

But everything changed between Thanksgiving and me three years ago with one little word: Noemi.

My husband Christopher and I had spent the bulk of September and October working through endless papers and forms and notarizations and fingerprints and exams to be put on the waitlist to adopt a Guatemalan baby, and on November 13^th we’d finally turned in the last bit and were settling in for what we’d been told would be a long wait.

I doodled our daughter’s name—I’d picked out Saramaya in part because Sarah is one of my favorite names, in part to pay homage to her homeland—in my organizer. We wondered aloud whether she’d be born before the New Year. But never, ever did we think we’d get official clearance for a referral before January, let alone an actual match.

And then just four days later on November 17th, the week before Thanksgiving, the phone rang and Kelly Jo from Heartsent was on the other line. “I have something to tell you,” she said and I knew immediately from her voice—which I had gotten to know very, very well over the preceding months—that she had news. Big, big news. I told Kelly Jo to hang on as I raced to my husband’s office with my heart thumping out of my chest. “Oh my God,” he said when he saw my face and ran over to clutch my hand.

“I have a referral for you!” Kelly Jo unleashed the news. “We have your daughter. Her name is Noemi de Leon.” And, of course, all our predictions and plans and even the name we’d picked went right out the door. Noemi was Noemi from the moment she was born; and she was our daughter too.

The following Thursday, with our heads still spinning and our hearts gushing with joy, we propped up our very first pictures of our daughter on the table and made Pollo en Jocon—a simple Guatemalan stew. It was the best Thanksgiving we’d ever had.

In the years since we’ve pondered what, exactly, we wanted Thanksgiving to look like for our Huber clan of three and we’ve decided on a few things that are about as traditional as the way we became a family. We’ve agreed to indulge our thirst for exploring unknown places and people—a passion that was the seed to our adopting Noemi to begin with and one we’re eager to share with her. We’ve decided to keep it small so we can focus on deepening our ties as a family. And we’ve adopted Pollo en Jocon as our family’s “traditional” Thanksgiving dish so that, every year, we’ll be able to let our daughter know just how thankful we are for her while honoring her roots . . . no matter where the three of us may be.

This Thanksgiving, think not just about the traditions you want to pass on, but what new ones you’d like to begin too.

A Story of Heritage Turkey

Posted on November 13, 2009 by Lia Huber — 13 Comments ↓

Turkey is the iconic American bird. So it’s only fitting that it takes center stage for that iconic American holiday: Thanksgiving. The species is native to the Americas, but many of the breeds that populated our country’s agricultural landscape throughout the centuries were a mix of indigenous wild turkeys and domesticated ones bred in Europe from stock originally exported from the New World. So from early on, in quintessential American fashion, the turkey became a cultural hybrid.

But there’s more to the story. To me, turkeys are a living illustration of how much our country’s food culture has changed in the past 50 years.

For hundreds of years, up until the mid-20^th century, farmers bred turkeys for flavor, beauty and yield. Each breed was developed for a different purpose: Narragansetts were good foragers where food was scarce, the Bourbon Red was prized for its meat and the Standard Bronze for its beautiful plumage. By the 1950s though, as our food system became more industrialized and turkey breast became a deli standard, two of those factors—flavor and beauty—fell from consideration. After all, people no longer bought turkeys from their nearest turkey farmer, they bought it prepackaged (and probably frozen) from one of the burgeoning supermarkets in the area.

Turkey breeders began selecting for birds that could be developed quickly, could efficiently convert food into the coveted breast meat and would have flawless skin once plucked. Thus the Broad Breasted White, in a time when Wonder Bread and Twinkies were considered modern miracles, took the market by storm. Today, they make up about 99% of the turkey market in America, and many of those other breeds—what we now call heritage turkeys—are close to extinction.

What Are Heritage Turkeys? There are roughly a dozen varieties of heritage turkeys, seven of which were recognized back in 1874 in the first edition of the American Poultry Association’s Standard of Perfection—the official guide to breed standards for all types of poultry. Technically, the term “heritage turkey” is defined by these three characteristics:

They can mate naturally. This may sound self-evident, but the Broad Breasted White—because of its short breast and legs—cannot mate on its own and must be artificially inseminated in order to reproduce.
They must be able to live a productive life outside in their natural environment. In contrast, heirlooms’ buxom cousins are much less hardy and more prone to disease.
They must have a slow (some might say “normal”) growth rate. Mass-produced turkeys develop so quickly that their muscles can outpace the rest of their bodies.

It’s ironic to me that something has to be defined with a fancy moniker like “heritage” to say it can live a normal, healthy life in a natural environment and that what we take for granted as “turkey” is something that came from generations of artificial insemination, doesn’t develop properly and doesn’t have the fortitude to live in its native habitat.

Why Would I Want to Buy a Heritage Turkey? The easy answer is incredibly flavorful, juicy meat. The more in-depth answer is, by serving up a heritage turkey you’re helping save them from disappearing altogether. Four of the roughly dozen heritage turkey breeds are listed on Slow Food’s Ark of Taste as near extinction. The more demand there is for these heritage breeds, the more incentive farmers will have to raise them.

How Are They Different? True heritage birds look, well, scrawny. They have longer breast bones and legs, making their breast look more pup tent than plump. They also layer on fat differently, since they’re essentially a wild animal, so you’re likely to find large deposits towards the neck rather than distributed throughout. While the breast meat doesn’t taste enormously different, the dark meat is redder with a much richer flavor, almost like that of duck or goose.

Do I Have to Cook a Heritage Bird Differently? Because heritage birds have smaller breasts, they cook faster and can dry out easily. Cook the bird until a thermometer inserted into the deepest part of the thigh (without touching bone) reads 145F-150F (it will continue to cook as it rests).

A Welcome Thanksgiving

Posted on November 11, 2009 by ldgourmet — 1 Comment ↓

By Jacqueline Church

We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures. – Thornton Wilder

Too many of us have experienced holidays where grudges simmered right alongside the gravy and proverbial eggshells were strewn about the room. Which is why I decided a few years back to make Thanksgiving a tradition of welcome in my home. In my house, Thanksgiving is about open doors, open hearts and full plates (and football) whether we’re talking a crowd of four or forty.

thanksgiving-welcome At my Thanksgivings, everyone always has seconds and leftovers to go home and no one worries about their weight, or if their job is impressive enough, or whether their date measures up. Each person is welcomed just how they are, which is why each year’s gathering is so unique. There was the year a surprise toddler guest smeared butter on the wall. There was the time Catherine’s Artichoke Dip slipped right out of my hands and down the stairs and I had to turn to my neighbor’s stove for backup. One year a friend was in the midst of a separation . . . and then there was the mis-measured brining incident. Don’t even ask.

My Thanksgivings are never perfect, which is what makes them—ironically—perfect every year.

Whether it’s family, friends, or some combination of both, here are some of my tips for creating a welcoming atmosphere:

Give Assignments Ahead of Time – It makes people feel a part of the gathering when they get to help shape it. Put someone in charge of bringing flowers, another of planning music. If you have friends who like to cook, parcel out some of the courses—I’ve taken to tucking my favorite recipes into a binder that I revisit year after year.
Put People to Work – People feel more comfortable when they have something to do (and it’s a great way to break the ice between guests too). Put a few to work cutting crudites in the kitchen, ask others to light candles or set the table, or recruit someone to manage the bar before dinner.
Mix it Up – Put away the china and silver and ask your guests to bring their own place settings (if it’s an especially large crowd, ask them to bring a chair too). Mixing things up actually helps people relax.

Jacqueline Church is an independent writer whose work has appeared in Culture: the Word on Cheese, Edible Santa Barbara, and John Mariani’s Virtual Gourmet. She often writes about gourmet food, sustainability issues and the intersection of the two on her blog Leather District Gourmet. Currently, she’s at work on Pig Tales: a Love Story about heritage breed pigs and the farmers and chefs bringing them from farm to table.

Just Say “No”

Posted on November 9, 2009 by Lia Huber — 3 Comments ↓

A friend of mine once said, “When we say ‘yes’ to one thing, we’re also saying ‘no’ to something else whether we realize it or not.” Wise words. And I find the opposite to be true, too. We often think of “no” as a negative response, but when stated purposefully it can open doors for very positive results.

just-say-no It’s in that spirit that I write this—as much to myself as to you. I eye the bowl of leftover Halloween candy on the top of the cabinet, the birthday cupcakes in the freezer, the containers of Party Mix on top of the fridge, and know all too well how easy it is to indulge in a bite here and handful there. But when I stop and think about what I’m saying no to in that wordless, mindless “yes,” I realize I’m preventing myself from feeling strong and centered and wholesome and good. And those consequences cascade beyond just my body. After just a few spontaneous yeses to empty indulgences I begin to feel unbalanced and unmotivated, which takes a toll on my family, my relationships, my work.

Those are some big costs for little yeses. And understanding that is a big part of mindful eating practice.

So this week, especially as the paths are laid for the holidays ahead, I want to practice just saying “no” and feeling the fullness, balance and joy that comes as a consequence. I encourage you all to join me, and to notice the impact it has on you in the days ahead. And if you’re so inspired, share your experiences in the comments below . . . I’m curious to hear about all the yeses that come from saying no.

Gratitude

Posted on November 5, 2009 by Kurt Michael Friese — 12 Comments ↓

By Kurt Michael Friese

Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all the others. ~Cicero

Celebrations of the harvest have existed for as long as civilization, for indeed it was agriculture that necessitated both. But Thanksgiving is a uniquely American holiday; a celebration of the bounty shared by the native inhabitants of this land with foreign pilgrims. While Judeo-Christian prayers before a meal give thanks to God and Native Americans thank the very animal on which they feast, each are also a recognition of our own place in the world.

Giving gratitude for the bounty we enjoy demonstrates respect not only for nature and God, but for ourselves as well. And so, while gratitude should be acknowledged, felt, and practiced every day, we set aside one particular day each fall to celebrate the harvest and pay special attention to that which makes it possible for us to do everything else we do in this life. To recognize that food transforms us even as it is transformed into us.

The food that says Thanksgiving to me is my mother’s wild rice dressing which, in my own version, gives nod to those historic Native Americans. I never thought my mom’s recipe could be improved upon until I discovered the magnificent flavors of real Manoomin wild rice, hand harvested and parched on the lakes near Ponsford, Minnesota by members of the Ojibwe Nation. This is truly wild wild rice, far more flavorful, nutritious and surprisingly quick-cooking than the California-grown “paddy rice” that is commonly marketed as wild rice (In fact, a common Ojibwe joke on the White Earth reservation goes something like this: “How to cook paddy rice: put the rice in a large pot with a stone and plenty of water. Bring to a boil. When the stone is soft, the rice is almost done.”)

On Thanksgiving and every day, I am thankful for my family more than anything else, for they are my true source of sustenance and joy. I am thankful for my awareness of the importance and impact of my food. I am thankful for crisp autumn mornings and rain and my dogs. I am thankful that I am still on the right side of the grass.

And bacon. I am very thankful for bacon.

Next time you eat, whether around a sumptuous table or alone in the kitchen with that leftover turkey sandwich, stop for just a moment to consider what you’re truly thankful for.

Pick Your Treats

Posted on October 26, 2009 by Lia Huber — No Comments ↓

Halloween’s a-coming and, let’s face it, many of us are more frightened of what’ll come home in the goodie bag (or beckon from the basket long after the last trick-or-treater has come calling) than even the scariest ghoul. The good news is; practicing mindfulness now can help ward off those wicked pounds that often appear between now and the new year. Here are three questions to ask yourself before delving into any kind of sweet:

Is there a lighter option that would still satisfy me? And by lighter, I don’t mean Snackwells or low fat. I mean angel food versus pound cake, poached pear versus triple chocolate torte. Desserts that get their fluff from egg whites and sweetness from fruit or fruit purees tend to be lighter on the whole.
How badly do I really want this? If you’ve been craving chocolate gelato from that little Italian place on the corner all week (am I giving away too much?), a frozen yogurt probably isn’t going to cut it. But if you’ve simply got a generic sweet tooth, then it might just do you fine. Save the decadent splurges for when the urge hits hard.
Can I eat just a few bites? Cheryl’s piece from last Friday, Making Sense of Moderation, touched on this point. If you’re opting for opulence, think about serving yourself a miniature portion; our sense of flavor wanes with each bite, so even if you just have a taste you’re still getting the very best.

This week, as you’re tempted to nibble, be mindful and pick your treats wisely.

Making Sense of Moderation

Posted on October 23, 2009 by Cheryl Sternman Rule — 8 Comments ↓

Moderation isn’t sexy. It’s not going to sweep you off your feet, make you tingly, or cause you to swoon. And yet, moderation is one of the primary keys to overall wellness. It means enjoying what you love, and what feeds you, rather than denying yourself meaningful pleasure. It means seeking out balance in all things–those that are good for you, and healthful, and those that are indulgent and maybe even a bit naughty.

making-sense-moderation-pudding-post Practicing moderation isn’t hard, but it does require some forethought, so you’d be wise to cultivate habits that make it easier to achieve. Here are four points to help you do so:

Large dishes encourage you to eat large portions. In his wonderful and insightful book Mindless Eating, psychologist and Cornell University Food and Brand Lab Director Brian Wansink, PhD, writes of the “mindless margin,” the food we eat unintentionally simply because it’s there in front of us. He suggests serving food on smaller plates to counteract this tendency. That way, you’ll eat only what you actually mean to.
Fat promotes satiety. Contrary to still-popular beliefs, a bit of healthy fat served alongside low-calorie foods actually encourages less daily calorie consumption than depriving yourself of fat altogether. Why? Healthy, unsaturated fats like nuts and olive oil promote “satiety;” that feeling of fullness after you eat. If you feel full, you’re less likely to feel famished, or deprived, later in the day. (Learn more about how eating fat helps you stay slim.)
Most recipes can be halved. This is obvious, granted, but how many times do you make a full batch of cookies just because that’s the way the recipe is written? Only make a full batch if you actually want, and plan to eat, a full batch. Or keep out only what you’ll eat in the very near future and freeze the rest for a later date.
Acknowledge the law of diminishing returns. A concept borrowed from economics, this theory can also be applied to food. It means that the first few bites of a food are always the best, and each subsequent bite provides diminishing relative pleasure. So don’t skip indulgences, but keep portions small. Doing so will actually help you enjoy them more. Little ramekins are perfect for ice cream, warm apple crumble, and intense chocolaty pudding.

Do I follow these precepts all the time? No, of course not. I’m anti-deprivation, though, so I know that in order to keep my own diet in check, I’ve got to make choices that will minimize the risks of my going overboard.

So don’t tell me not to eat chocolate pudding, because I won’t listen. And don’t tell me it’s not good for me, because it is: it’s good for my soul. Just don’t laugh when you see me eating my pudding from a tiny bowl with a wee little spoon. It’s how I make moderation work for me.

Cheryl Sternman Rule is a food and nutrition writer whose work has appeared in numerous national magazines, including EatingWell and Body+Soul. She is the voice behind the food blog 5 Second Rule.

Harvest Time

Posted on October 16, 2009 by Lia Huber — 8 Comments ↓

For some reason, I have a tough time each year letting go of summer and welcoming fall—much as I love both seasons. When the sun takes on a lackadaisical slant and the earth smells wet, it makes my chest swell with a sort of nostalgiancholy. So I thought I’d take a cue from one of Noemi’s alphabet books and spell out how harvest feels to me.

harvest-post

H — Hope. There’s something about harvest that conveys hope to me. It’s the end of a cycle, a time of reaping what was sown in faith knowing it would grow.

A — Abundance. I feel such gratitude during harvest for the abundance that it brings. Some of it is subtle, a smile that creeps up when I smell the last of the tomatoes roasting in the oven. Some of it is intimate, gathering with close friends to laugh and toast and enjoy the fruits of our labor. And some is universal, a feeling that the earth has yielded what it will for this year, and that now is the time for restoration.

R — Rest. I love how the pace here slows as winter sets in — in the vineyards, in our homes. It’s a time when we’re deepening our roots and gaining nourishment to enable the fruits of the next season to flourish.

V — Varied. When I hear people say that California doesn’t have ‘real’ seasons, I always beg to differ (and I grew up in Illinois and Connecticut, so I know what people mean by ‘real’ seasons). No, we don’t get snow (although the Mayacaymas mountains do get dusted every few years, and it is magnificent), but each year I’m riveted by the beauty of the vines in their cloak of colors, and the way the autumn mist brings an otherworldly element to the mornings. We most certainly do have seasons here in wine country.

E — Exuberant. When I think of harvest, I think of laughter. Laughter floating above the vines as we help our friends clip grape clusters row by row. Giggling about garden mishaps that wind up weaving their way into our collective stories. The deep contentment that seems to radiate from people’s faces around the dinner table.

S — Sustenance. Sustenance is about more than just fueling your body with what it needs to survive, it’s about being a part of a larger whole that feeds our soul . . . as is harvest. Sharing the bounty with those we love is just as much sustenance as the fruits of harvest itself.

T — Trust. I sometimes find it hard watching the vines go dormant, the garden laid bare-–both literally and metaphorically. I get impatient for the next season of growth to arrive. But I need to trust-–that the buds will come again, that the fruit will follow, and even that there is purpose to this season of starkness.

This harvest season is heightened for me as we count down the days for NOURISH Evolution’s launch out of beta. It has been a long spring and summer of sowing and hard work and next week, it will all be ripe. You’ll see dramatic changes to the site that will make it much easier to navigate, connect and share. And stay tuned for news on November 2 of an exciting sweepstakes to promote the launch (or shall we say harvest?). Thank you, thank you, thank for your support through this stage . . . I look forward to sharing many more seasons here with you.