Let Your Food Make You Laugh

Can we all agree that “fusilli” is a fun word to say? I know that may seem off-topic, but it’s not. Really.

I wrote last week about about the real meaning of comfort food in that food is so much more than just what we eat, and you all confirmed the notion big time with your answers to the State of the Kitchen Survey. Over three-quarters of you said you defined “being nourished” as “eating in a way that makes me feel healthy and energized.”

That ain’t no diet, folks. That’s a way of being. It’s a feeling that permeates beyond our physical cells into our souls.

So how does all that apply to Fusilli with Artichokes and Swiss Chard? Because one of the best ways to bring that healthy and energized spirit into your eating is to bring light and laughter into your kitchen. This dish not only has all the Nourishing components for your body–whole grain pasta, lots of leafy greens and seasonal goodies, a touch of goat cheese to amp up the creaminess factor–it’ll have fun with you if you let it.

Here’s an experiment.

1. Get everything ready to make this dish and take note of how you’re feeling–if you’re preoccupied about something at work, feeling rushed because of an evening activity, what have you.

2. Now look at your kid–or at yourself in the mirror–while holding a piece of dried pasta and say the word “fusilli” 10 times fast. Just try not to smile or laugh. I dare you.

3. Now … check in and see if your mindset has lightened or changed, and how that shift affects the rest of your dinner.

Did you notice a shift? Share your experience in a comment below.

Make Corned Beef From Scratch … On Sunday

You have to promise not to laugh when I tell you this, about how many years this corned beef recipe was in the making. I’d always wanted to make corned beef from scratch, but I have a tendency to forget about St. Paddy’s day until the day of, despite all the leprechauns and clovers sprouting up in every store. So given the grueling three-day rigamarole that’s normally involved in making corned beef, I missed out year after year.

And then I got really into my pressure cooker. One night, I was experimenting with pressure cooking spare ribs in the marinade I’d normally soak them in to see if the flavors permeated the meat (they did), and I thought … “hmmmm, I wonder if this would work for corned beef too …” So I jotted down a note to give it a try the following March.

Did I remember? No.

But I did the next year. The light bulb went off, and I got all excited and scurried off to the store on St. Patrick’s Day to buy myself a beef brisket. I enthusiastically rattled off to my butcher what I planned to do with the brisket, and he nodded knowingly and handed me a shrink-wrapped piece of meat. I eyed it suspiciously. “This is a brisket?” I asked. “Are you sure?” He nodded that same knowing nod. “Yep. That’s what you want.” So I went home, put my little experiment into action and pulled the meat out less than two hours later. It was succulent, it was flavorful … it was like sucking on a salt lick. He’d sold me a pre-brined brisket. So I missed out that year too.

Absolutely determined to get the bottom of my “hypothesis” (6-year old Noemi is throwing that word around a lot lately, with a science fair coming up), I marched back to that butcher the next day and made him sell me a straight-up, unadulterated brisket wrapped in good-ole butcher paper. And guess what? My little experiment turned out splendidly. Now, umpteen years later, I can finally state that you can forget St. Patrick’s Day until the day of and still have your corned beef too.

Crazy for Kohlrabi

I spent over a quarter-century not having the fainest clue what kohlrabi was. The first time the root vegetable registered on my radar was in a friend’s garden when I asked what the Sputnik-like things were poking from the ground (a name that stuck for us Hubers). She answered “kohlrabi,” I went “huh,” and that was that. Until I spotted them, years later, at a farmers’ market and asked the farmer what on Earth she did with such a vegetable.

kohlrabi-whole
raw-kohlrabisteamed-kohlrabi
Whole kohlrabi “Sputniks” (top); raw kohlrabi wedges (bottom left); steamed kohlrabi wedges (bottom right)

I listened carefully, bought a few, then went home and followed her advice, steaming wedges of the bulb and dressing them with a drizzle of olive oil and a pinch of salt and pepper. Initially, the stinky feet cabbage-like smell turned me off while they were steaming (it’s actually the hydrogen sulfide emitted from all brassica oleracea vegetables–like broccoli and cabbage–when cooking), but all that was forgotten on first bite.

It had the texture of a perfectly cooked potato mingled with a raw carrot, and an earthy, complex, spicy-sweet flavor that was unlike any other root vegetable I’d tasted — like I’d added a dash of soy sauce or soaked porcini to the bowl. Wow, I thought. And so kohlrabi became a staple in my home. I steam kohlrabi for a snack; I make pickles from it; I roast it; and I substitute it whenever possible for potato.

How to Choose and Store Kohlrabi
You can see from the pic above that kohlrabi comes in both purple and greenish-yellow hues. When peeled, though, the flesh is always light green. Choose small to medium bulbs; I’ve found the larger ones to be more fibrous. Cut off the leaves as soon as you get home (you can zip them and use them like kale or chard), and you can store the bulb in the crisper for weeks.

How to Prepare and Cook Kohlrabi
Cut off the top and bottom, then peel off the outer layer with a Y-peeler until you get to tender flesh. I like to cut them into thin wedges for steaming or chunks for roasting. They’re also great raw; grate the bulb into salads or marinate matchsticks in brine and vinegar for quick pickles.

Give kohlrabi a try … these little Sputniks might just rock your world like they did mine.

 

This Holiday Season, Get Over the Guilt

Between Thanksgiving and Black Friday and Cyber Monday, I’m starting to feel gorged in every way. It happens every year for me right as November slides into December: I start to feel almost panicked about the cookies and treats and roasts ahead for the holiday season. I start to feel a sense of gloom–and guilt–that I’m going to roll into the new year 10 pounds heavier than I was at Halloween, which doesn’t feel so merry to me.

holiday-season-get-over-guiltWhen I go there, my first response is to overexert my willpower. I’m sure it’s born of decades of dieting, but I immediately feel like, if I’m going to prevail and not gain weight, then, dang it, I’d better shore myself up for some hefty denial.

But I know better. I learned on my journey towards NOURISH Evolution that denying myself something only made me want it more. In fact, it was only when I removed the ban on foods I enjoyed that I lost weight and kept it off. So nowadays I take a deep breath and remind myself that celebrations are a natural part of being nourished. My job is to make sure I’m mindfully indulging in things like Swiss Chard with Grated Garlic and Braised Kale Tartines with Feta in between the feasts.

In fact, there are a few things I like to do to recalibrate myself in between Thanksgiving and the December holidays, and I’ll be sharing those secrets with members of our Holiday Surthrival Kit.

I find if I’m not mindful about how I approach this time of year, I can feel guilty (when there’s no need to be), frazzled (when a few simple strategies can keep me organized on track) and like an exhausted, prickly mess by the time family arrives on my doorstep.

Truth be told, I created the Holiday Surthrival Kit as much for me (yes, I do use those Meal Grids and day-by-day checklists) as for y’all, although I’ll admit the pretty e-cookbooks (and they are pretty) take it over the top.

Whatever you do, DO spend these weeks in between nurturing yourself and getting prepared, rather than torturing yourself with guilt or depriving yourself. You’ll be in a much better place come the end of December, and a much happier person in the New Year.

A Nourishing Fourth of July Feast

Some of you may shy away from chicken legs, thinking them a less than healthy choice. But I’d urge you to think again … especially for the grill. A leg has roughly 60 calories more than half a chicken breast, and just 2 grams more saturated fat. But that extra fat helps keep it nice and moist under fire.

My suggestion? Indulge in one of these super flavorful Mahogany Grilled Chicken Legs, and fill up the rest of your plate with crispy, creamy Romaine Slaw and Simple Herbed Couscous. Finish up with this fruit-laden Cherry Apricot Almond Tart. It’s a balanced plate, yet supremely satisfying … and altogether nourishing.

Happy Fourth, everyone!

Packing a Picnic …

I used to think frittatas were a utilitarian way to use up expiring ingredients; a dish that got the job done, but didn’t inspire much excitement.

It wasn’t until Christopher and I stayed at Locanda Rosati in Italy’s Umbria region that I had any notion frittatas could be darn near transcendent. One night, the Rosati brothers brought out several of these Zucchini Frittatas–served at room temperature–for the big farm table full of guests and I thought, “oh great, a frittata.” Boy did my tune change when I took a bite. It was luscious and creamy and full of flavors that spanned the spectrum from rich to fresh. (side note … strange that my food epiphanies tend to happen around eggs)

Quite frankly, I refused to believe it was a frittata. I tried to pry the recipe from the brothers for days, but they insisted the dish wasn’t worthy … it was “just a few eggs, and some zucchini from the garden,” and something called prezzemolo (that one took a while without a dictionary … it means, wait for it, ‘parsley’).

But I persisted, and managed to piece together a recipe based on a series of conversations more than anything else. Over breakfast, Giampiero leaned over with wrinkled brow and insisted that both the vegetables and the eggs needed to be coddled over very low heat. In the hallway, Paolo stopped me to say that I should salt both the vegetables and the eggs. In the end, I was able to capture the secret for replicating that divine dish called a frittata in my own kitchen.

I’m so glad I did. Since then, it’s become a summer staple both as a simple dinner and a go-to picnic dish. In fact, as soon as I finish typing I’m going to make one to take to Preston tomorrow. I’ll tuck it away in the cooler and pull it out along with the cheese to warm up a bit before serving. Then I’ll pair it with a hunk of really good whole grain bread and mixed greens tossed with my Go-To Vinaigrette. Simply divine.

I may have started out my life thinking frittatas were no more than a vehicle for emptying out the fridge. But I’ve learned … and now I know there’s nothing better to pack for a picnic.

Finding the “Yes” in Saying No

I’ve talked to a lot of people lately who are giving up certain foods for a period of time, either for Lent or for a cleanse. Most often, the discussion is accompanied by grimaces over giving up sugar or wistful sighs at mention of meat.

But giving something up in a deliberate act doesn’t have to be about deprivation. In fact, I would argue that honing in on something that has taken a little tighter grip than we’d intended and purposefully letting it go for a spell is a powerful mindful eating practice that will open us up to something new and positive.

finding-yes-in-lent

I’ve found that when I’m feeling anxious about a certain area it helps to take a bold action in exactly the opposite direction. If I’m stressed out about not being able to get everything done, taking a leisurely half-hour lunch in the garden reinvigorates me and leaves me much more productive than if I’d worked nonstop. If I’m freaking out about not having enough money to cover expenses, giving boldly takes my fear away and puts my needs into perspective.

That same type of “positive shock” is activated when you deliberately give up a certain type of food or habit. If you choose to set aside meat for a few weeks you can either whine about it … or you can see it as an opportunity to explore the world of vegetables, whole grains, seafood and soy in ways you’re not able to when you have the crutch of “chicken tonight, ground beef tomorrow” (and to feel great about how you’ve shrunk your carbon footprint!). If you choose to pass on desserts with highly processed flour and sugar, do it mindfully and notice how awesome your body feels in return.

Giving things up doesn’t have to be accompanied by disappointed groans. When we say “no” to one thing, we’re opening ourselves up to a “yes” in another area. When you find that yes and focus on it consistently, you’ll be amazed at just how full you feel.

Temptation in the 20%: How to Stop Eating When You’re Full

Hara hachi bu is a Japanese term that roughly translates to “eat until you’re 80%  full.” It sounds simple, I know, but many deeply profound concepts wear a simple shell. This is one of them. Hara hachi bu is sound advice for many reasons. It takes your brain about 20 minutes to register how much your body has eaten, for instance, so stopping when you feel about 80% full means you’ll likely top off around 100%. It also gets you tuning in to every bite rather yielding to the temptation to mindlessly barrel through a burger.

temptation-stop-eating-full

For me, though, that 80% is the border over which the battles of will are fought. Here’s a snippet of what my brain sounds like when I’m eating a so-juicy-and-delicious-all-I-can-do-is-close-my-eyes-and-hum burger and I hit my 80% mark.

Willful Me (turning a shoulder to Mindful Me): “Shut up, I’m eating.”

Mindful Me: “You know, you’re just going to feel like crap if you eat the whole thing.”

Willful Me: “I’m not listening, I’m not listening …”

Mindful Me: “Seriously, why don’t you just put the rest down and take it home.”

Willful Me: (suddenly taking faster bites): “But there’s really not enough left to take home.”

Mindful Me: “Then why don’t you just put down those last couple bites so you don’t stuff yourself and you can feel a bit better about this whole thing.”

Willful Me: (holding the last bite in front of my mouth): “But I WANT this burger!”

I’ll bet if you miked everyone’s minds at that burger joint you’d hear a lot of conversations that sound like this.

The problem is, we don’t have much experience in listening to our bodies and stopping when we’re full—much less 80% full. Instead, we’ve just re-engineered our food so that we can eat more and more and more of it (oh, I remember the glee when Snackwells would come out with a new cookie flavor). Or we’ll “lighten” something up with the implicit notion that we can eat more of it.

But that’s missing the point.

When we ignore our body’s cues for the sake of … MORE … we’re snubbing our nose at the complex, wonderful system that connects our brains to our tummies.

FYI, I did feel awful after eating that whole burger. I was nauseous and uncomfortable all night, and was mentally flogging myself with guilt (“what was I THINKING?”). But I had another experience with another burger a few months later that felt entirely different.

I cut the burger in half and luxuriated in every bite of the first half. Then I noticed myself starting to feel full. I waited for a few minutes, sipping my beer, and noticed that I continued to feel more full even without eating more. Sure, I was still eyeing that other half. But I remembered how it had felt when Willful Me had had her way last time and, finally, I pushed my plate away.

“I’m done,” I said.

“Aren’t you going to have any more?” Christopher asked?

“No,” I answered. “I’m done.”

I felt great. I felt respectful. I felt at peace.

I’m not saying I’ve mastered the territory struggle for that 20%, but I have learned a few battle lessons. Here’s what helps me stop when I’m 80% full:

  • If you’re at a restaurant and you’ve got a big plate of food, create a smaller portion of it for yourself somewhere on your plate. If you’re at home, start off with a smaller portion. Then let yourself enjoy it with abandon (no guilt allowed!) and less temptation to keep eating.
  • If you catch yourself having a conversation like mine above, try to deliberately subvert your Willful Self. Argue back (“you know what, YOU shut up!”). Throw in some hot buttons (“Fine … if you want to feel like a helium balloon all night, go ahead. I’ll bet you’ll feel great at the pool tomorrow too.”). Your Willful Self is not playing by the rules or being rational, so throw in some curve balls to take control away from her.
  • Know, KNOW that you are not saving any starving children by eating the second half of your burger. Yes, it’s probably going to go to waste. So next time, you find someone to share it with.
  • Take a break. When you start to feel not hungry, just hit the pause button for a few minutes. It will give you time to check in with how you feel and helps disengage the autopilot that your Willful Self may have you on.
  • When you’re feeling somewhere around 80%, DECLARE it. Say, out loud, to yourself and/or the table, “I’m done.” It’s powerful.
  • Don’t believe your Willful Self when she plays the card of “but if you don’t eat it all, you’ll be hungry again in an hour.” If you get hungry again in an hour, you can have a snack.

Give these a try and let me know if they work for you!

Zip Some Greens

For years, I was put off from eating greens like chard and kale and mustard because of the cumbersome step of cutting out the stems. Don’t get me wrong, I loved–and still love–their grassy, earthy flavor. And the health benefits of leafy greens, from strong bones to a healthy heart, are legendary. But (insert whine) it took so much time.

And then one day, I honestly don’t remember if I’d read about the technique or was just feeling feisty, I held a big fan of Swiss chard in my fist and just zipped the leaves clean off. It was shocking how quickly it happened. Then I did it again and again, and before I knew it, the entire bunch was de-stemmed and laying in a neat little pile . . . all in less than 60 seconds. It was an easy way to save time and get those greens on the table for a weeknight meal.

Technique for “Zipping” Leafy Greens

  • Hold the stalk firmly in one hand
  • With the thumb and forefinger of the other hand, pinch where the base of the leaves meets the stem and tug gently to separate
  • Continue tugging up the line of the stem, zipping the leaves off as you go (you’ll get the hang of how much pressure you need)

Watch the video here:

Back to School: What’s for Lunch?

I love my daughter’s teachers. The other morning, as Noemi and I were packing her lunch for school, she gently stayed my hand and asked, “Is a quesadilla grow food?”

“What’s that?” I asked, not sure what she meant.

She looked at me with her I’ll-be-patient-with-you-because-I-love-you-Mama look and said, “Miss Emma says we have to eat our grow food first.”

Back to School: What's for Lunch?And then it dawned on me.

We’ve all encountered it; we pack a nice healthy sandwich and apple slices and a bag of Goldfish crackers. At school, that translates into goldfish first, then a couple bites of the sandwich … and then they run out of steam before the apple sees the light of day.

So, as Noemi explained it, Miss Emma set a rule that the kids have to eat their “grow food”–the healthy stuff–first.

Brilliant, that Miss Emma.

It has become a practice we use at our table too and has opened up a new door for me to talk with Noemi about the basics of sound nutrition as we pack her lunch. I’ll even admit to a certain amount of parental pride on the days I can report to Noemi that all the foods in her lunch box are grow foods.

Anatomy of a Lunchbox

So what makes something a grow food? Here are four things to look for:

  • Healthy fats. Kids, like adults, need healthy fats. Omega-3 fatty acids are particularly important at early ages for neurological development and brain function. Foods like walnuts and flaked wild-caught salmon are great sources of omega-3s, and avocado and olive oil are full of heart-healthy monounsaturated fat. Fats also add flavor and mouth feel to food … important for picky eaters.
  • Whole grains. Breads, crackers and pasta made from refined wheat flour  can cause blood sugar levels to spike (and, in response, insulin and adrenaline levels) because our bodies absorb it so quickly. That energy spike also leads to a midafternoon slump that makes hard for kids to concentrate in the classroom. But pasta made from whole grain uses all three parts—endosperm, germ and bran—to provide protein, micronutrients and fiber in a much healthier package for sustained energy throughout the day. It might take a period of turned-up noses, but kids’ palates can adapt. Look for whole grain breads and crackers with a fine crumb to make the transition easier. And remember, corn chips and corn tortillas count too!
  • Smart proteins. Proteins are a natural for kids … they’re the body’s building blocks, after all. Lean lunch meats like turkey and ham are alright, but think outside the deli too. Edamame and hummus (even better, the hummus-like edamame dip below) are fun foods that transport beautifully. Quinoa salad, beans and lentils also make great lunches for kids and grown-ups alike.
  • Whole foods. Any kind of whole vegetable or fruit (whole meaning not processed; you can cut it up) is a welcome lunch-box grow food. Cherry tomatoes are great at this time of year, and we mix up the fruit depending on what’s in season.

Sure, you’ll have other elements in your kids’ lunch box too—cheese sticks, pretzels, an occasional sweet. The idea is, though, to load in as many grow foods in as many different guises as possible, and then encourage your kids to feel good about eating them … first.