* Or, It’s a Privilege to Eat You (thanks, Whole Foods).
Happy “Celebrating Our Country’s Freedom Day” to both Canadians and Americans (and anyone else who’d like to take part in the party!).**
And before I forget (because I’m at that age when I do forget), let me also say “THANK YOU” to everyone for your amazing, supportive, generous and kind comments and emails while I’ve been away! Of course, I would have returned to the blog in any case just because I love it, but your encouragement may have hastened the process just a wee bit.
It does feel great to be back. And just what have I been doing for the past month, you may ask?
Well, most importantly, I’ve been assiduously following my ACD and have definitely made progress in terms of overall health (in fact, as my naturopath studied my live blood cells under a microscope the other day, he commented, ”The membranes look really healthy. They’re in great shape.” Alas, if only he’d been able to say that about my hips and thighs). Still, I’m sure my immune system was flattered.
While a couple of the most annoying symptoms do still persist, I’ve determined to continue with the regimen, which will likely mean a few more months of restrictions. So for those of you who are relatively new to my blog, you should know that I don’t normally consume gluten-free foods exclusively, but I will be doing so for a while longer. I’ll be eating more vegetable-based dishes and more raw foods as well. And some fruits are back on the menu, though (and let me tell you, even the serpent in Eden wasn’t this gleeful to see apples).
With the school year just completed, I thought I’d summarize my last month and save space by posting a report card instead of writing about it at length:
Student: Ricki Heller; Term: June 2009; Program: Get the Candida Out! Age: You’re kidding, right?
TOPICS AND GRADES:
Adherence to ACD: 100% (not an off-program crumb since March 7, 2009)
Current strictness of ACD Phase (II): 95% (allowed some fruit and oats now)
Current health status: 80% (only one really nagging symptom left)
Percentage of weight lost toward goal: 66% (lost 28 pounds–only 17 to go!! Regular updates on the Progress Tracker.)
Percentage of airtime devoted to Farrah as opposed to Michael: 2.5% (It should be a crime, really.)
“Good for you, Mum! But they forgot to mention that you share and play well with others (especially canines). And we agree–even though Michael seemed to be fond of animals, what about poor Farrah’s fifteen minutes?”
The most important thing I’ve discovered over the past month, however, is that I am a lousy multi-tasker. So rather than attempt to keep up with work, blog, cooking, promoting a cookbook, baking for said cookbook, Facebook, and any other “-book,” I’ve decided to slow the pace somewhat. I will still be blogging regularly, though perhaps not quite as often. And while I promise to keep reading all the blogs I love, please forgive me if I don’t comment as often as I used to–but know that I’m still there!
And now, on to the über-healthy (and ACD-friendly) recipe!
On weekends, the HH and I usually enjoy a leisurely brunch before starting our day in earnest (well, if a meal at 9:30 or 10:00 AM can properly be called “brunch.” You see, as in most areas, when it comes to mornings, the HH and I are polar opposites. When I lived on my own, my natural proclivity was to wake at 6:30 AM every day, weekends included. In contrast, the HH, left to his own devices, would have just fallen into bed around that time, then sleep until long past noon. Our compromise is a 10:30 brunch).
Our typical habit (once the meal is dispensed with) is to sit across from each other, sipping our respective hot beverages (He: Hazelnut Coffee with Full Cream and Sugar; She: Green tea, straight up) while we read the newspapers. In a positive spin on that scene from Citizen Kane, we read choice tidbits aloud to each other (too nerdy, I know). The HH invariably peruses the Real Estate section in The National Post. The other day, for instance, he pointed out that they were profiling the home of artist Ken Danby, at around $3 million. There was also a suburban mansion with a 2,000 square foot (610 metre) kitchen. A 2000 square foot kitchen!!! Do you think they’d let me live in the pantry? (No, seriously. I understand that bulk bags of rice can serve as very comfortable pillows.)
Running in the social circles I do (okay, more like “speed-walking in the social circles I do”), I can often forget that there are a lot of incredibly wealthy dudes in Toronto (even without Prince and the Torontonian wife he divorced who once lived on The Bridle Path ). A casual stroll along Bloor Street West in the tony Yorkville area will yield sightings of Chanel, Hermes, LaCoste, Tiffany & Co., Harry Rosen, Holt Renfrew, Dolce and Gabbana, and pretty much any other unattainable-to-the-average-shopper stores you can think of. As for me, I get a kick out of peeking through the smoked glass windowpanes, gawking at all those privileged folk who can buy $1500.00 thong sandals without batting a (false) eyelash.
Given the average net worth of shoppers in the area, it makes sense that Toronto’s first Whole Foods Market decided to set up in Yorkville. After all, they don’t call it ”Whole Paycheck” for nothing.
About a week before their grand opening (in an effort to curry favor with local residents), they published this recipe for their popular Kale and Seaweed Salad in the local paper (in fact, I do believe I read it aloud to the HH over brunch). I also remember thinking, “This is one of their most popular recipes? Are all those rich customers slightly touched as well?” Having never tasted sea veggies at the time, I couldn’t imagine the magical commingling of salty, mineral-rich arame with chewy bits of barely-cooked kale, peppery shards of fresh ginger and crunchy sesame seeds, all bathed in a smoky, nutty sesame oil dressing.
In order to sample it from the source, I (along with throngs of other curious shoppers) made the trek to Yorkville and purchased a small container of the stuff (price: about $6.47 for three miniscule forkfuls). I must admit, though, I was smitten; it is truly an inspired mix of ingredients, and one that I still, all these years later, love. But I couldn’t bring myself to buy it again for that price since I, unlike the local denizens, am not a magnate/ celebrity/ third-generation billionaire/ ostentatious nouveau-riche/couture designer/ plastic surgeon/ or other financially privileged resident.
Luckily, the salad is easy to make at home, and it’s become a regular feature in our summer menus. It’s also the perfect introduction to sea veggies for anyone who’s never tried them and may feel a little wary; arame is one of the mildest forms of seaweed, decidely not ”fishy.” The recipe is also fairly quick to prepare, despite the presoaking and then boiling of the arame. (While the seaweed soaks, simply cook your kale and prepare the dressing; then rinse the cooked seaweed with cold water and toss all together). And don’t forget that sea veggies offer an ample nutritional boost, helping to foil cancerous growths, keep your thyroid healthy (lots of iodine, there!), prevent cardiac disease and inflammation, and provide a full array of minerals and vitamins (particularly iodine and Vitamin K ).
As we munched on our portions of salad the other night, the HH remarked (and I quote verbatim), “I really love this salad.”
So go ahead, give kale and seaweed a try this summer. At the very least, you can feel as if you’ve been intermingling with the upper crust for a little while.
I thought this would be a great entry for Food Renegade’s Fight Back Fridays, too! Learn more here.
**I meant “Canada Day” and “Independence Day,” of course!
Kale and Seaweed Salad (suitable for ACD All Stages)
adapted from from Whole Foods’ recipe, originally published in The Globe and Mail
A delicious first course to a stir-fry or rice noodle dish; or serve as a side salad with nutroast and sweet potato fries.
1-1/2 cups (about 0.5 oz/ 15 g) dry arame or other strands of dried seaweed (such as hijiki)
1 large bunch kale, washed, large vein removed
2-inch (5 cm) piece of ginger, peeled and cut into thin matchstick pieces
2 Tbsp (60 ml) roasted sesame seeds
1/4 cup (60 ml) Bragg’s liquid aminos, tamari, or soy sauce
1/4 cup (60 ml) reserved soaking water
2 Tbsp (30 ml) toasted sesame oil
In a medium bowl of cold water, soak the arame about 20 minutes, until softened. Drain, reserving 1/4 cup (60 ml) of the liquid. Place the drained arame in a medium pot and cover with water. Bring to boil, then cover and turn off heat. Let sit 5 minutes, then drain and rinse with cold water. Place the drained, cooled arame in a large salad bowl.
Meanwhile, steam the kale or cook in a minimal amount of water until just tender (about 5 minutes). Drain the kale and rinse with cold water; spin in a salad spinner to dry. Chop roughly or tear into bite-sized pieces. Add the kale to the salad bowl with the arame. Sprinkle with the ginger and sesame seeds.
In a small bowl or glass measuring cup, combine the Bragg’s, reserved soaking water, and sesame oil. Pour over the salad and toss to mix well. Arrange on a serving platter or individual plates, discarding excess liquid (the dressing is quite thin, but I found you need all the water to offset the saltiness of the Bragg’s or soy sauce).
Serve immediately or refrigerate and serve cold. Makes 4 servings (but only 2-1/2 in our house). Will keep, refrigerated, for 2 days.
[Totally tangential rant: When I woke up this morning, I was sure my eyes were playing tricks on me--it is snowing outside! Snowing. BIG snow. As in, "little white flakes that fly across your field of vision." As in, "icy and slushy and boots weather." As in, "everything is coated with rime and appears opaque and goes crunch when you walk on it." As in, "turn the heat back on and pull those sweaters out of storage again." As in, IF I SEE ONE MORE DAY OF WINTER I AM GOING TO LEAP UP AND DOWN AND FLAIL MY ARMS LIKE A CRAZED FLAMINGO AND SCREAM BLOODY MURDER AND WEEP LIKE A CONTESTANT ON THE BIGGEST LOSER AND THEN DISSOLVE IN A PUDDLE LIKE THE WICKED WITCH OF THE WEST. Okay, maybe not really. But I will not be very happy, let me tell you.]
I’m sure we’ve all heard it before, but I’m here to reiterate: diets don’t work. In fact, I’m living proof of that axiom.
I embarked on my first bona fide “diet” at age thirteen (thirteen! there oughta be a law) because, at the cusp of adolescence, I entered a new school and was, for the first time, startled to discover that there were boys–and they had somehow become appealing overnight!–out there. And that my friends whose mammaries had developed the previous summer seemed to attract the boys more than I did. And that maybe, if I lost twenty pounds, I might be the object of male hormonal affections, too.
And so, the beginning of a lifetime of serial dieting was born.
That initial diet was called the Stillman Quick Weight Loss Diet (a precursor to the later Atkins fiasco) and it allowed NO fruits or vegetables, NO grains and, basically, nothing but protein. For three months or so, I dutifully ate hardboiled egg for breakfast, tuna fish (no mayo) for lunch, and some kind of cooked meat (likely chicken) for dinner. And yes, the pounds did drop. Unfortunately, so did my IQ, my heart rate, and several of my friendships.
Before long, it wasn’t just boys who paid attention to me, but my parents and teachers, too, as my skin became pallid and wan; my clothes bagged in decidedly unattractive ripples across my chest, waist and hips; my hair lost its luster, hanging scraggly and thin; and my basic demeanor shifted from formerly sweet, pleasant, and interested in academics to introverted and skittish, eyes flitting from one point to another without ever focusing, like a kleptomaniac hiding a pair of shoes in her purse as she crosses the electronic detectors at the Bloomingdale’s exit. Needless to say, my parents convinced me to abandon the Stillman diet.
Subsequently, in my 30s during a “heavy” cycle, my world changed for a time when I met Dean. He didn’t mind that I was chubby; in fact, he welcomed it.
Dean, you see, was Dean Ornish, author of the diet plan called Eat More, Weigh Less. I loved the book immediately and bought it based on the title alone (you know that myth about how every twenty-something guy dreams of being locked in a room with two sexy, randy lesbians? Well, every dieter dreams of being able to pig out uncontrollably without limits, yet still lose weight).** I didn’t care about the actual diet, no sir; all I cared about was that title–I could eat more, and weigh less! Yessss!
Little did I know that Ornish was a medical doctor–a cardiologist, no less–and his book was based on years of extensive study. In fact, Ornish was the first (and only, if my sources are correct) medical professional to prove in scientific, double blind studies that you can actually reverse heart disease with diet alone. That’s right; reverse, not just diminish; and diet alone–no pills, no medications! His original idea has now blossomed into a full-fledged industry, including an institute that practises what he preached. It’s called the Preventive Medicine Research Institute and people go there to recover from (and reverse) their heart disease. How cool is that?
The first edition of the diet, however, was incredibly stringent, allowing no more than 10% of calories from fat (from all food sources combined). Clearly, well-marbled steaks, chicken with skin, or whipping cream are not on the menu. It was a radical notion back then: a vegan diet, and one with a very low fat content (Happy Herbivore, rejoice!). Best of all, the book included recipes.
Following the Ornish plan, I never felt better. I see now that the menus were fairly grain-heavy, but at the time, I was happy to cook up the recipes, pile my plate as high as I could, and methodically shove one forkful after another into my mouth, chewing away. At times it took me the better part of half an hour to polish off a plate, but I never worried that I was eating too much–I was eating MORE so I could weigh LESS!
Ornish’s Seven Grain Dirty Rice and Beans was my first encounter with this spicy Cajun favorite and also my first foray into the world of cooking dried beans from scratch. The dish is a variation on the classic combination, with corn for chewiness, and a spirited spice mix. The result is a satisfying, multi-textured meal. The beans and rice pair up to offer a complete protein. As a single woman living on my own, it was also a godsend to be able to create meals from basic, inexpensive ingredients that would last a few days (theoretically, I’m sure, the recipes were intended for 6 or more servings, which would have lasted much longer than a few days, but I really was piling my plates pretty high).
I achieved the desired weight loss on the Ornish plan and even managed to maintain it for several years, until I moved to Toronto and began teaching at the college where I still work today. And then, I met my starter husband, we got married, and I ballooned once again, the cycle repeating itself. Did my weight gain play a role in our split? No. But our split played a role in my weight. . . after I dumped the guy, the weight began to recede as well, which led to my current relationship with the HH, after which I gained back all the weight and more. . . which is why I now need this ACD to clear out the toxins and, ideally, lose more weight. . . .
Do we detect a pattern here? Diets don’t work!
Nevertheless, I still love this dish. And I’ll always have a soft spot (well, right now, several soft spots, most of which are located between waist and hip areas) for Dr. Dean.
**Oh, dear me. I can just imagine the blog searches that will lead people here now. Especially since this dish has the word “dirty” in its title. Groan.
I have no idea why this is called “SEVEN” Grain Dirty Rice (unless I’m missing something, aren’t the rice and corn the only grains in this?). Whatever the reason, it’s a slightly spicy, very flavorful and hearty dish, one that’s easy to prepare–and it won’t break the bank.
2 cups (480 ml) dry brown rice (I used basmati)
1-1/2 cups (360 ml) chopped red onion
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup (240 ml) finely diced carrots
1/2 cup (120 ml) finely diced celery
1 small jalapeno pepper, minced (remove seeds for less heat)
1 Tbsp (15 ml) ground cumin
1 Tbsp (15 ml) ground coriander
2 tsp (10 ml) chili powder
1/4 tsp (1 ml) fine sea salt
3-3/4 cups (900 ml) vegetable stock or broth
1 bay leaf
1-1/2 cups (360 ml) chopped tomatoes (I used a large can of diced tomatoes)
1-1/2 cups (360 ml) cooked red beans (I used kidney; any firm bean will do)
1/2 cup (120 ml) fresh or frozen corn kernels
3-4 Tbsp (45-60 ml.) fresh chopped parsley
3-4 Tbsp (45-60 ml) fresh chopped cilantro
Preheat oven to 350F (180C). Spray a large casserole dish (one with a cover) and set aside.
In a fairly large, heavy-bottomed pot, heat the rice, onion, garlic, carrots, celery, jalapeno, cumin, coriander and chili powder over medium heat, stirring constantly, for about 5 minutes, until lightly browned.
Add the salt, stock, bay leaf and tomatoes, and stir to combine. Cover, lower heat and simmer for 15 minutes.
Add the beans, corn, parsley and cilantro. Turn the mixture into the casserole dish, cover and bake for another 30-40 minutes, until the liquid is absorbed and the rice is cooked. If necessary, add a bit more stock and continue cooking until the rice is sufficiently soft. Garnish with more chopped herbs, if desired. Makes 6-8 servings. May be frozen.
NOTE: The original recipe suggests cooking the entire dish in your pot on the stovetop. I found, however, that the rice never really absorbed the liquid that way, and it remained hard even after an hour of simmering. If the stovetop method works for you, however, go ahead and use it–you’ll save yourself some dishes to wash that way.
Can it be that spring has finally decided to grace us with its presence? Tentative buds peek from beneath the scraggy clay, ennervated blades of grass sun themselves daily, waiting to transform from brittle, strawlike shoots to brilliant green fringes undulating in tranquil breezes. The sun is finally blazing overhead, causing pedestrians to peel off successive layers of clothing, first hat, then gloves, then scarf, then jacket as they stroll along, like human illustrations of the the classic Aesop fable.
Bah, spring, I say. I know; you’d think I’d be ecstatic, wouldn’t you? After all, I consider myself the unrivalled Queen of Wrath Against Winter. In contrast to the frozen, snowy season, spring is a harbinger of new life. Flowers. Gurgling streams. Picnics in the park and “Paris in the-the.” The season premiere of Rescue Me. And yet, and yet. . . despite all this, spring has made me grumpy. Why?
Well, this might give you an idea:
Spring, circa 1960s:
It’s late March, and Ricki is jumping with excitement. Spring means it’s time for the annual visit to Uncle L (not to be confused with Uncle S of the Planters Peanuts jar–no fun!) over at the coat factory. Uncle L worked in the fashion district of Montreal, and once a year, Ricki’s mum took her and her two sisters to the factory so they could choose a new spring jacket–at wholesale prices!
What could be better? A two-hour bus ride to the mysterious, exotic East End of Montreal (the all-Francophone area, into which they never ventured otherwise); where everything was interesting and new, from the dark plumes of smoke that snaked across the sky from factory chimneys to the stray newspapers and empty plastic bags that swished across the neglected streets to the staccato joual that echoed down the alleys as they drove by. All of it was fun and exhilarating–and best of all, it culminated in a new coat! Whee!
Spring, Circa 1980s:
Ricki and her two best friends from CEGEP are excited. March means they’re going to Fort Lauderdale for Spring Break–their first vacation on their own and without parents!
What could be better? A shared hotel room in a beachside hotel. Six days sunning on the sand, lounge chairs and drinks by the cabana, three meals a day in restaurants. Evenings clearing the sand out of your swimsuit, getting gussied up and meeting scores of other twenty-somethings at bars and clubs. All of it was fun and exhilarating–and best of all, it culminated in a shopping spree (in American shopping malls, no less, with all those great brands we can’t get at home!) Wheeee!
Spring, Circa March 22, 2009, 4:15 PM:
Spring means taxes. What could be worse?
Grumbling while I gather my scattered paperwork from throughout the year, spend three hours organizing it into neat little piles across the kitchen table, then three more hours with a pad of paper and calculator, tallying up the numbers again and again and again, just to be sure. . . Whoah.
Spring means mud. Lots and lots of mud. What could be worse?
Wiping eight muddy paws, two muddy bellies and an occasional muddy chest two or three times a day over the course of the spring season (a locker room post-football game on a rainy day doesn’t even begin to compete with these muddy canine torsos). Walking dogs in springtime. . . .Whoah.
["Mum, to be fair, we really don't have a choice about the fur on the belly thing. . . unlike Dad, for instance."]
Spring means a yard that resembles, just a little too close for comfort, that mountainous pile of garbage and muck that Roy builds in his kitchen in Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Could it be any worse?
After all the snow and ice have melted, the ground underneath has heaved and repositioned itself, and the previously unmowed grass has wilted and yellowed, falling in heaps and whorls like matted hair shaved from an unkempt Goldendoodle (or was that an unkempt Joaquin Phoenix?)–what’s left is a sodden, muddy, tawny and gray yard that serves little purpose other than as bathroom for your dogs (see “Spring means mud,” above)–and awaits hours of your physical labor to clean it up and make it presentable. Whoah.
Am I being a tad too negative? Perhaps. After all, taxes mean I actually have a job (something for which I’m extremely grateful in these hard times). And muddy paws means I have two furry, exuberant Girls to brighten my every day. A yard means I can finally, finally learn how to garden (remember last year’s monstrous mint fiasco?).
And so, as an attempt to bridge the gap between winter and spring, I decided to make this salad.
This is a recipe I created several years ago for a cooking class entitled, “Anti Candida Feast” (a rather ambitious title, I think now). At the time, I wasn’t following the ACD myself, but had been asked by a few previous participants for an ACD-friendly menu. And while I adore juiced beets (my favorite combo is beet, carrot, and ginger juice), I’ve never been a fan of raw beets in any other context. I’ve always thought of beets as more of a winter veggie, to be roasted or boiled into soup. This salad seemed the perfect means to combine the spirit of spring (in a raw dish) with these lovely crimson roots.
With its emphasis on beets, carrots and cilantro, I thought it would be the perfect submission to Weekend Herb Blogging, the weekly event started by Kalyn and now run by Haalo. This week’s host is Anna from Anna’s Cool Finds.
When I told the HH I was making a raw beet and carrot salad for dinner, his response was, “Blecccchhhh. Beets taste like dirt.”
“But they’re good for your blood,” I countered.
“Don’t care,” he said. “Dirt.”
“But they cleanse the liver!”
“My liver is clean enough.”
“But” (and here, I admit I was reaching a bit)–”they can help test your transit time!”
“Transit time?? You mean, like, how long it takes the beets to go in one end and come out the oth—”
“Yep.”
“Okay, now I really don’t want to eat those beets.”
I mixed up the salad anyway, planning to consume it on my own. But something about the vibrant colors, the springlike fuscia and orange, the heady aroma of lime and cilantro in combination, persuaded him to take a bite. And in the end, he loved it!
“This doesn’t taste like beets at all,” he said, chewing on a mouthful of beets.
Seeing him devour that plate of salad, I felt happy to welcome the spring. Exhilarated, even.
Wheeeee!
[PS You've still got nine days to enter the Maple Syrup and Chocolate Cake Giveaway! Click here for details.]
This vibrant, refreshing salad combines the brisk tang of lime with the natural sweetness of beets and carrots. Crunchy pecans and pumpkinseeds offer textural contrast and a protein boost. A great spring salad!
1 large beet, peeled (it should be fresh and firm)
2 large carrots, peeled
1/2 cup (50 g) chopped pecans, lightly toasted
1/4 cup (35 g) pumpkin seeds, lightly toasted
1 clove garlic, minced
1/4 cup (60 ml) freshly squeezed lime juice (about 2 limes)
1/4 cup (60 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
3 Tbsp (45 ml) chopped cilantro or parsley
pinch fine sea salt
Using the medium grater on a food processor, mandolin, or hand grater, grate the beets and carrots and place in a medium bowl with the nuts and the seeds. Set aside.
In a small bowl, combine the garlic, lime juice, oil, cilantro and salt. Pour over the beet-carrot mixture and toss to coat everything well. Serve immediately. Makes 4 servings. Will keep, refrigerated, for 2 days.
Anti-candida variation: use an ACD friendly nut instead of the pecans (I used chopped Brazil nuts in the pictured salad, above).
[Welcome to the new home of Diet, Dessert and Dogs! I'm still tweaking the format and layout of the blog, so please bear with me while I update some links, combine some page tabs, etc. It should all be up and running smoothly within the next week or so!]
A few weeks ago, I was contacted by Coombs Family Farms, an organic farm in Vermont that specializes in “all things maple,” to see if I’d like to sample some of their syrup. Since maple syrup is a well-loved staple in my kitchen and many of my baked goods feature it as a key sweetener, I was delighted to accept their offer and eagerly awaited the package.
A few days later, I received this:
A bottle of their certified organic syrup, along with a maple-leaf shaped piece of maple candy!
Anyone who’s ever consumed real maple syrup can attest to its unique flavor–sweet, slightly smoky, with an appealing, earthy aroma. Made from the sap of maple trees, it’s naturally rich in minerals (per volume, higher in calcium than dairy milk!). The syrup is available for purchase in three grades of A (light, medium and dark) and one of B–each darker and more intensely flavored than the last. I was sent a bottle of grade B, an intense, soulful auburn that was so thick and deep it was nearly opaque. As soon as I removed the cap, the maple perfume escaped to envelop the room with that distinctive scent.
Now, I’ve enjoyed maple syrup for many years. Like pretty much everyone raised in Quebec–the heart of Canada’s maple country–I consider myself a maple aficionado, if not an expert. Maple syrup is ubiquitous in La Belle Province: you can find it on every checkered tablecloth in every greasy-spoon breakfast diner, cheerily lining the shelves in corner grocery stores, awaiting the call in every kitchen cupboard. When I was in grade school, each spring our class would make an annual trek up north for “sugaring off” parties, where freshly tapped, warmed maple syrup was poured over vast expanses of pristine snow to create a kind of maple taffy that we kids scrambled to scoop up with plastic spoons. I might even classify myself as a bit of a maple syrup snob, in fact, one who’d never even consider trying the artificially flavored stuff from that iconic slender-waisted bottle.
Still, despite my fine maple sensibilities, I’ve never really thought it essential to buy organic maple syrup. For one thing, the price is usually, shall we say, immoderate. In addition, I’ve always recalled a conversation I had with a student once in a sociology of food course I was teaching. She mentioned that her family owned a local maple tree farm. There was really no difference between organic and non-organic syrup, she explained, since most maple trees aren’t sprayed with pesticides anyway (unless infected by some vermin or another). I filed away that bit of information and continued to purchase my regular (non-organic) variety.
Well, let me tell you, that student got it wrong (luckily, she wasn’t writing a test at the time). Now that I’ve tasted the Coomb’s organic version, I’m not sure I can go back to my generic brand. Their syrup is outstanding, with a rich, deep amber color and more intense maple flavor than I’ve ever tasted. It’s perfectly sweet and subtly smoky, with a heightened maple essence that lingers gently on the palate, enduring like an unexpected compliment.
Seriously, I may not be able to tolerate my old brand any more. To heck with the price–I’ll just have to be more judicious in my use of it, I reckon. Or else use a bit less and savor every drop more. Or simply ignore the cost entirely (I suspect that a pawn shop may come into play at some point). Seriously, it’s that good.
My first taste of the syrup was straight, poured onto the Lemony Almond Pancakes I wrote about a few days ago (I wanted to sample the delicacy in its pure, unadulterated state before combining it with other ingredients). The flavors melded beautifully, the maple’s presence strong enough to match the zesty lemon while counterbalancing the slight sourness of it. The HH practically asked to drink the stuff straight out of the bottle (but I wouldn’t let him, of course, as I was saving it for my subsequent kitchen experiments). He did manage to polish off the maple candy in one sitting, however–I got barely a nibble!
With such a winning flavor, I opted to design a cookie that would really showcase the unique taste that is “maple.” I concocted these Maple Flax cookies (sorry, the two of you who are also on the ACD; these are NOT ACD-friendly–I created this recipe a couple of weeks ago). They are naturally gluten free (and even flour-free, in fact). In this case, the light, chewy texture was a natural outgrowth of my desire to minimize other ingredients in order to allow the natural maple to shine through. And you will most definitely taste it, with every chewy, sticky, sweet and maple-y bite.
Thanks again to everyone at Coombs Family Farms for allowing me to sample this extraordinary product. Now my only lament is that I can’t find any more of it here in Toronto!
They’re not quite Irish, but since they contain oats, I can claim a Celtic connection, anyway. . . Happy St. Patrick’s Day, everyone!
P.S. It’s time for another Sweet Freedomgiveaway. . . stay tuned for details next post!
Maple Flax Cookies
Looking somewhat like oatmeal cookies, with a crunchy exterior and chewy center, these intesely maple-flavored treats will please everyone. Whole flax seeds add bulk, while the oatmeal and flax meal both contribute heart-healthy soluble fiber.
1/2 cup (60 g) whole old-fashioned rolled oats (not instant or quick cook)
1 Tbsp (15 ml) coconut oil, solid at room temperature*
3 Tbsp (45 ml) pure maple syrup
2 Tbsp (30 ml) Sucanat or other unrefined evaporated cane juice
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) pure vanilla extract
2 Tbsp (30 ml) finely ground flax seeds
3 Tbsp (45 ml) whole flax seeds
1/4 tsp (1 ml) baking soda
1/4 tsp (1 ml) baking powder
1/8 tsp (.5 ml) fine sea salt
Preheat oven to 350F (180C). Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper, or spray with nonstick spray.
In the bowl of a mini food processor or coffee grinder, whir the oats until they resemble a coarse meal. Pour the meal into a small bowl and set aside.
To the unwashed processor bowl, add the coconut oil, maple syrup, Sucanat and ground flax seeds. Blend until combined well and smooth. Set aside while you measure the rest of the dry ingredients, or at least 2 minutes.
To the bowl of oats, add the whole flax seeds, baking soda, baking powder and salt, and mix to distribute everything. Pour the wet ingredients over the dry and stir to create a sticky “dough”.
Using a melon baller or teaspoon, drop the mixture onto cookie sheet about 2 inches (5 cm) apart. Do not flatten the cookies (they will spread on their own).
Bake 10-13 minutes, until puffed and cracked on top and dry on the edges. Allow to cool completely before removing from sheet (they will firm up as they cool). Makes 8-10 cookies. May be frozen.
* If your room temperature is warm enough that the coconut oil melts, place it in the refrigerator for 10 minutes or so to firm up before using in this recipe.
I have a confession to make. I haven’t told you all about this yet because, quite frankly, I was afraid you’d reject me. Move that cursor elsewhere, and click. At best, roll your eyes. Maybe snort in disgust. Maybe gag, even.
But I’ve decided it’s time. I mean, really, what kind of lasting relationship can we have without full disclosure?
So I’m just going to come out and say it:
I love okra.
I.
Love.
Okra.
Are you running for the hills yet?
Oh, I know what you’re thinking: Okra? That polygonal pod that’s a staple in gumbo, and mostly reviled? That much-maligned member of the marrow family (but cocoa is in that family, too!) that most people reject without so much as a nibble? That pariah of the produce aisle that’s often referred to as gluey, viscous, slimy or mucilaginous–with seeds that remind you of those bowls of peeled grape “eyeballs” we all stuck our hands into at Halloween when we were kids?
Yep. That okra.
I adore okra’s long, lantern-shaped pods, the vibrant green skins with just a hint of fuzz and the wagon-wheel innards when you cut them across. I love the mild, slightly woodsy flavor and the pop of the seeds in your mouth. I could eat okra every day, and never tire of it.
I think it’s heartbreaking that okra gets such a bad rap. Okra is like the pimply nerd at school–the reject, the Carrie, the Napoleon Dynamite , the Ugly Betty. The last kid to be chosen for the baseball team. The scrawny kid on the beach who gets sand kicked in his face. The pink-and-too-frilly kid who takes her dad to the prom. The computer geek nobody wants to date so then he quits high school and starts some computer company run from his parents garage and redeems himself by becoming the richest guy in America. . . oh, wait. That would make him Bill Gates, wouldn’t it? And then he’d actually be much sought after, wouldn’t he? Well, heck! To my mind, that IS okra!
[A bit of spice, a bit of bite, a bit of lemon zest: an endearing combination.]
I think we should give okra the accolades it deserves. Let’s nurture its low self-esteem. Let’s compliment its grassy hue and lovely symmetry, tug its cute little tail at the narrow end and make it blush. Sure, it was born a green vegetable (already at a disadvantage compared to, say, watermelon). And then there’s the goo factor. But sometimes, with a recipe that takes our humble ingredient and pushes it to be its best, well, that little green lantern can really shine. That’s what I wish for my buddy, okra.
In these recipes, okra is elevated to something that transcends its reputation. It’s like okra gussied up for a date. Okra getting an A+ in physics. Okra at its best self–I know, like okra after taking one of Oprah’s “Be Your Best Self” weekends! (Just imagine the introductions at that seminar, sort of like David Letterman’s ill-fated attempt at hosting the Oscars: “Okra, meet Oprah. Oprah, okra.”).
Besides, okra has much to offer us. Described by WholeHealthMD as having a taste that “falls somewhere between that of eggplant and asparagus,” it’s a good source of Vitamin C and several minerals; and the seeds offer up protein in every pod, along with 4 grams of both soluble (known to help keep cholesterol levels in check) and insoluble (great for regularity) fiber in a one-cup (240 ml) serving.
[Still slightly al dente in this photo; cook a bit longer if you're an okra neophyte.]
These are two of my favorite okra dishes, ones that we consume fairly regularly here in the DDD household. The first is another adaptation from my dog-eared copy of Flip Shelton’s Green, a Moroccan Spiced Okra-Quinoa Pilaf. I’ve made liberal changes to this one, including altering the base from rice to quinoa. The spices are subtle with a barely detectable undertone of lemon zest in the mix. Served sprinkled with chopped nuts, this pilaf is a meal in a bowl all on its own.
The second dish comes from one of my all-time favorite cookbooks, Indian Cooking Course by Manisha Kanani. Again, I’ve made a few alterations to the original, which asks you to dry-cook the okra on the stovetop; I’ve found that adding chopped tomatoes and allowing the tender pods to stew in the juices produces a more appealing taste and texture. Although a masala curry, this one isn’t the least bit spicy, yet is still rife with the flavors of tomato, cumin, coriander and fresh cilantro. It’s a perfect side dish for Indian food, of course, but we also enjoy this as an accompaniment to burgers or cooked grains.
So go ahead, give okra a try! Who knows? You may even like it. And don’t worry, the secret will be safe with me.
Subtle flavors of warming spices and comforting vegetables, this quinoa-based pilaf can be made with any favorite grain.
2 Tbsp (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil
1 medium onion, diced fine
2 medium carrots, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) chili flakes
2 tsp (10 ml) ground ginger
2 tsp (10 ml) ground cumin
1 tsp (5 ml) ground coriander
1 cup (240 ml) dry quinoa
1/2 cup (120 ml) green or brown lentils
3-4 cups (720-960 ml) vegetable broth or stock
freshly grated zest of one lemon
4 ounces (100 g) okra, washed, trimmed and cut into pieces
1/2 cup (120 ml) fresh cilantro leaves, chopped
1/2 cup (75 g) roughly chopped cashews or pistachios
Preheat oven to 350 F (180 C). Grease a large covered casserole dish.
In a large pot or dutch oven, heat the oil over medium heat; add onion, carrot, garlic, chili flakes, ginger, cumin and coriander. Stir until the vegetables start to soften and the spices are fragrant. Add the quinoa and lentils and cook for a few minutes more. Add the broth, lemon zest and okra and return to the boil. Remove from heat.
Pour the mixture into the prepared casserole dish, cover, and bake for 45-50 minutes, until the liquid is mostly absorbed. Sprinkle with the cilantro and nuts before serving. Makes 4 servings. May be frozen.
Anti-Candida Variation: omit the nuts, or use chopped almonds instead.
This is the perfect introduction to those wary of okra: keeping the pods whole prevents the juices from being released, and once the okra is cooked it’s not the least bit gooey inside. Be sure the pods are very soft and cooked through (the color will darken to an olive green) for best effect.
1 pound (450 g) okra or green beans, or a combination (washed and trimmed but not cut)
In a small bowl, combine the turmeric, chili powder, cumin, ground coriander, salt, agave, lemon juice and chopped cilantro (the mixture will still be fairly dry).
Heat the oil in a large frypan over medium heat and add the cumin and mustard seeds; fry for about 2 minutes, or until they begin to splutter and pop.
Add the spice mixture and continue to cook for another 2 minutes.
Add the tomatoes and okra and stir to coat well. Lower heat to simmer, cover, and cook until the okra is very tender and most of the moisture from the tomatoes has evaporated, 25-35 minutes. Garnish with more chopped cilantro if desired. Makes 4 servings.
Anti-Candida Variation: Use 3-5 drops of stevia in place of the agave or Sucanat.
Full disclosure: even if I hated seaweed and loathed green soybeans, I would still have tasted this salad based on the poetry of its name alone. I mean, how can you pass up such alliteration, such euphony, such gastronomic lyricism?
Just listen to it: AH-ra-may. EEE-da-MAH-may. “Arame” brings to mind ”aria.” And “Edamame” –well, “edamame” just makes me want to break out into song: “How I love ya, how I love ya, my EEE-da-MAH-MAYYEEE. . . .”
When I think of poetry, most of the time I think of how much I abhorred it in university (mostly because I could never understand it). Even when I went on a poetry bender at the suggestion of my crush-cum-mentor, Dr. D, I never quite “got” it. Let’s see; here’s my experience with poetry, in a nutshell: T.S. Eliot’s “Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock” –I did dare, I did dare, but it just would not sing to me; Wallace Stevens’s “Sunday Morning,”–say what? WHO is the mother of beauty? (Just too creepy); Ezra Pound’s “In a Station of the Metro“–I was haunted by apparitions in every crowd for months; ee cummings’s “in-just”–it was spring and the world was mud-luscious, but the poems just weren’t; Sylvia Plath’s “Daddy“–I felt the need to throw away my black telephone; William Carlos Williams’s “The Red Wheelbarrow“–(because so much depends on a red poet–no, make that red poet’s society–no; oh, whatever. Who cares?)
In the end, I felt as if I’d read thousands of miles of poetry and all I got was a lousy T-shirt.
One form of verse that always did intrigue me, though, was haiku (you were wondering how all this related to the recipe, weren’t you? And here we are: both Japanese-themed!). I’m sure you’re familiar with the stuff–a specific set of three metered lines, first seven syllables, then five, then another seven. What’s great about haiku is that pretty much anyone can do it.
In fact, the HH informs me that even he composed in this form of verse once, in grade school. Here’s his masterpiece:
He comes off the ride.
As the fair whirls round his head,
His dinner comes up.
Ah, yes, HH, The Sensitive Artiste.
More than anything else, I think that haiku makes poetry easy and accessible.
Well, think of this salad as the haiku of Japanese food, if you like–making seaweed accessible to all (or “sea vegetables,” if you prefer the more literary term). If you’ve ever wondered about kombu, nori, wakame, dulse, or any of those others but have been afraid to try them, this seaweed salad is for you. In fact, it’s already been taste-tested (and mightily approved) by hundreds of thousands of others, since I modeled this recipe on the extremely popular salad of the same name sold at Planet Organic stores. Except at Planet Organic, it sells for something like $6.99 per 100 grams ($31.73 a pound), which means you pay approximately $17.42 for two tablespoons (okay, I’m exaggerating–but just a little). Clearly, my version is infinitely preferable.
The salad is incredibly simple to prepare, with just arame (a fairly mild seaweed that looks sort of like black spaghetti) and edamame (green soy beans) as the major ingredients. Toss these with a rice vinegar/sesame oil dressing and some lightly toasted sesame seeds, and you’ve got yourself a delectable dish that perfectly combines sweet (the beans), salty (the tamari) and even umami (the seaweed). The bonus is a great source of protein and Vitamin C from the edamame, plus some much-needed trace minerals (and a few major ones, too) from the seaweed.
The soy and seaweed
Are in perfect harmony.
You will love this dish.
Arame and Edamame Salad
This makes a great appetizer salad or side dish to miso soup, sushi, or any other light fare–but it’s delicious on its own, too.
2/3 cup (180 ml) dry arame (don’t pack it or you’ll end up with too much–it really expands while soaking).**
about 1 cup (240 ml) shelled edamame (see how much arame you end up with after soaking, and use about double the amount of edamame)
1 tablespoon (15 ml) rice vinegar (seasoned is fine)
1 tablespoon (15 ml) tamari or Bragg’s liquid aminos
2 tablespoon (30 ml) lightly toasted sesame seeds
5-8 drops liquid stevia or 1-2 tsp (5-10 ml) agave nectar, to taste
1 clove garlic, minced
2 tablespoons (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon (15 ml) sesame oil
1/8-1/4 teaspoon (.5-1 ml) fine sea salt, to taste
Place the dry arame in a heatproof bowl and cover with boiling water; allow to sit 5-15 minutes, until the arame is soft and about double in bulk (the longer it soaks, the less it retains a “fishy” taste). Drain and reserve 1 Tbsp (15 ml) of the soaking liquid, if desired.
Cook the edamame according to package directions (if not pre-cooked) and allow to cool to room temperature.
Meanwhile, in a medium-sized bowl, whisk together the remaining ingredients except for the arame. Add the drained arame, edamame and soaking liquid (if desired) and stir to coat the soy and seaweed. Allow to sit at least 15 minutes before serving (this is actually better the next day). Store, covered, in the refrigerator for up to 3 days. Makes 3 servings.
** You can use wakame instead if you like, since it looks almost the same once soaked; but beware, wakame is known to have more of a “fishy” taste than arame.
[I've decided to offer a mini-post every once in a while, for a dish that comes together incredibly quickly, or else is so easy to make that no recipe is required. Here's today's "Flash in the Pan."]
[Thanks to everyone who hazarded guesses about what type of peppers I've got flourishing in my backyard. . . I think we all agree they're not jalapenos, but as to what they actually are, we may never be sure. They're definitely spicy, yummy, and abundant--all I need to know, I guess!]
Another plant that grew beyond any sense of propriety in my back yard this past summer is mint. In my eternal quest to find as many uses as possible for the wayward herb, I began to drink this refreshing, ridiculously simple-to-prepare iced tea almost daily. I’d mix a huge batch of the beverage, pour it into a pitcher in the fridge, and just add ice whenever I felt parched, tired, or even a bit peckish. It always worked to perk up my spirits and leave me reinvigorated.
And no wonder: mint has long been used to help soothe digestive problems, and the oils may also aid in preventing bacterial or fungal infections (perfect for someone like me, who’s been rather slack with her ACD lately). Ginger is renowned as an anti-nausea remedy (which is why real ginger ale is so great for pregnant women). It’s also an effective anti-inflammatory and has been shown to help prevent various types of cancers while boosting the immune system.
With all these benefits in a delicious and easy drink, there’s just no reason not to sip some every day.
Fresh Ginger Mint Iced Tea
about 2 cups (480 ml.) unpacked fresh mint leaves
2 2-inch (2.5 cm) pieces of ginger, peeled and sliced into think disks
8 cups (2 liters) boiling water
agave nectar, to taste
splash of lemon juice, if desired
Either coarsely chop the mint, or place In the bottom of a large glass or other non-reactive bowl (big enough to hold 8 cups or 2 liters) and then muddle with the end of a wooden spoon or muddler (but really, who actually owns a muddler??). Add the ginger disks.
Pour boiling water into the bowl and stir gently to submerge all the leaves. Cover if possible while allowing to steep (I used the lid from my wok, which was large enough to cover the entire bowl). Allow to steep 5-10 minutes, or longer if you prefer a stronger brew. Add agave and lemon juice, if desired. The tea can be used immediately if poured over lots of ice (the ice will cool it sufficiently). Refrigerate any leftover tea and use as needed. Will keep up to a week in the fridge.
[I thought it would be fun to run a little series over here at DDD: I'll profile one one of my favorite foods, or a food that I've recently discovered and enjoyed, over several days. For this third entry, I'm focusing on Avocados. The series is presented on an occasional (and entirely arbitrary) basis, before I move on to the next lucky comestible. ]
Some foods are just acquired tastes–sort of like scat, living in the suburbs, or Quentin Tarantino films. I know that avocados work that way for many people, but that wasn’t my experience. Like eggnog or chocolate, avocado was one food I knew intuitively that I’d like, even before that first buttery, golden slice ever slid across my tongue.
In my teens, I used to walk to high school each day with my friend Phil. We’d meet at her place (about halfway between my house and our school) where she’d usually invite me in for a breakfast bite. It was in her mother’s white and gold formica-clad kitchen that we learned to love coffee together (stage one: 1/2 cup coffee, 1/4 cup water, 1/4 cup cream and 5 sugars. Stage two: 4/5 cup coffee, 1/5 cup cream, 1 teaspoon sugar. Stage three: eliminate sugar. Stage four: Congratulations; you’re hooked for the next 30 years, until that ulcer/heart condition/high blood pressure diagnosis, and then you go back to “no coffee”.)
While at Phil’s place after school one day, her mother (who was born in Belgium, and was therefore very glamorous) introduced me to avocados. The rough, gravelly exterior, greenish black skin and ovoid shape all seemed very exotic to this apple-and-banana gal. But as soon as she cut the fruit open, removed the glossy pit, and proffered a halfmoon slice, I was forever hooked on the smooth, velvety texture and slightly nutty, slighty sweet flavor.
(Apart from foodstuffs, Phil and I also learned to smoke cigarettes together, two giggly fifteen year-olds strolling round deserted parks after dinner, attempting to inhale, and–between fits of sputtering coughs–singing, “They. . . asked me how I knew. . . my true love was truuuuuue. . .“ But that’s another story).
To me, avocados are a nearly perfect food. Technically a fruit (sometimes called the “alligator pear”), they are used more often as a vegetable, and almost always raw. A few years ago, though, I read a magazine article about authentic Mexican cuisine. I found out that, in addition to being tossed into pretty much every salad or salsa, the avocado is also used sometimes in that country in cold soups and even cakes. Wow, I thought, what a great idea! With the extra healthy fats (and monounsaturates can stand up to low heat pretty well) as well as the fiber, avocados would make a terrific egg substitute in baking!
So I started playing and came up with a few baked goods (and I promise to share later in the series) as well as a cold soup–perfect for summer (recipe to follow as well). If you feel like playing with avocado as an egg substitute, use it the way you would tofu (1/4 cup avocado purée = 1 egg). Or simply add about 2 tablespoons puréed avocado to any baked good for added moistness.
Whether your preference is the crinkly Haas or the smooth-skinned Fuerte variety, an avocado is ripe when it “gives” slightly to soft pressure with your thumb or finger (be sure to press at the top of the fruit to avoid bruising the flesh). Most avocados are sold before they’re ripe and require 2-5 days at room temperature before they’re ready to eat.
Once ripe, however, they don’t last long–a day or two at most–before they reach the overripe, slightly fermented, stage (you know an avocado is past its prime if it starts to smell a bit like wine). If you can’t consume them once ripe, they’ll keep another 2-3 days, unpeeled, in the refrigerator. When I find myself with an overabundance of ripe avocadoes, I simply peel, purée, and freeze in one-cup containers for later use (frozen pulp is perfect for future dips and spreads, those baking experiments, or even added to pasta sauces later on). Frozen avocado should keep up to five months.
Avocados are also incredibly healthful–they aren’t a staple of Mexican cuisine for nothing! Brimming with heart-healthy monounsaturated oils, they are a good source of fiber, potassium (great to counteract high blood pressure) and vitamin K, essential for blood and (of particular interest to those of us with osteopenia) bone strength. They also contain a good dose of lutein, an antioxidant found mostly in green leafy vegetables that’s been shown to contribute to eye health and even help reduce the effects of macular degeneration (a disease of the eyes in which central vision is slowly erased).
And today’s recipe? Well, guacamole is one of those iconic foods that regularly makes an appearance at end-of-semester pub bashes, summer Bar B Qs, surprise birthday parties, or work pot lucks; I simply couldn’t do a series on avocados without including this classsic dip.
The first time I tried guacamole, I was at an end-of-semester party thrown by my friend Carol, a legendary hostess known for her ability to draw crowds of disparate personalities who, for the course of an evening (and often into the wee hours of the morning), all got along over beer, wine, and literary discourse.
Carol and her husband always included their two children (then aged 9 and 11) in every social activity, so the kids would meander quite comfortably among the professors and graduate students, stopping every now and again to chat with the bearded hippie sucking back a Becks or the the raven haired T.A. in the inappropriate tank top who was hitting on our Drama professor. Completely unfazed, the children might stop for some corn chips and guacamole, then move on. Around 10:30 or 11:00, they’d wander upstairs to their bedrooms, where they’d doze entirely undisturbed by the din beneath them, like babies in the neonatal ward who can all sleep through their own wailing.
Carol’s guacamole that night was spectacular, and I knew I’d have to make it again. I clipped this recipe from an old Chatelaine magazine from the 1990s, and I’ve never even tried another since. I do realize that everyone and their hairstylist has a fabulous recipe for guacamole, but this really is the best one I’ve ever tasted. The unusual step of rinsing the onion (which removes any pungency that might linger on the palate hours later), elevates this version to one of the all-time best recipes I’ve ever made.
I used to think that guacamole required garlic to taste this delicious, but this recipe proved me wrong. The contrast between the chunky tomato and smooth, rich avocado is stellar. Add more cilantro if you’re a fan.
1/4 cup (60 ml.) finely chopped white onion, rinsed in a sieve under cold water
1 medium ripe (but still firm) tomato, diced small
2 tsp. (10 ml.) finely chopped jalapeno pepper, with seeds
1/2 tsp. sea salt
2 ripe Haas avocados, pitted and peeled
1-2 (15-30) ml. freshly squeezed lime juice, or more to taste
Combine onion, tomato, cilantro, jalapeno and salt in a small bowl. In a large bowl, coarsely mash the avocado (a potato masher works well for this–you want a few chunks to remain). Add the onion mixture and lime juice and stir to mix well. Serve immediately with tortilla chips or raw vegetables, if desired. Or, just eat with a spoon.
Can be made ahead, covered, and refrigerated up to 4 hours; press plastic wrap against the top of the guacamole before refrigerating, to minimize oxidation. Makes about 2 cups (500 ml.).
For those of you who read my blog regularly, you know that I’m on a cleansing diet this week, an outgrowth of the Total Health course I’ve been taking for the past month and a half. Well, I hadn’t intended to post yet another non-recipe entry this week, but since I’ve received quite a few questions about why I’ve chosen this particular cleanse and how it works, I thought it might be useful to share a bit about cleansing in general and my own choice for this week in particular. I’ll warn you, though: what follows is a fairly long post (word count: 2443). If you’re simply interested in the food I’ve been eating, I’ll post that later–so feel free to come back then!
[Please note: This is a condensed and somewhat simplified account of the process, based on what I learned while studying to become a nutritionist, my own reading on the topic, and my personal experience with cleanses over the past five years. It is by no means intended as any kind of medical or professional advice and is purely my own perspective on the topic, presented for informational purposes only. ]
Q: Why Detox at All?
Whether you use the term “fast,” “cleanse” or “detox diet,” the process focuses on a single goal: detoxifying and rebalancing the body’s internal operating systems, primarily the digestive tract (but also the liver, respiratory system, urinary system and lymphatic system). Given the environmental factors, lifestyle, and eating habits of most of us in the modern world, I believe that everyone, no matter how thin, active or deemed “healthy,” could benefit from a cleanse once in a while. Even the instructor for our course (who has been following a strict regimen of ultra-healthy eating coupled with cardiovascular exercise, strength training exercise, yoga, dance, nia, sports, and a daily spiritual practise for over 20 years) undergoes a cleanse twice a year.
As denizens of the modern, industrial world, we are exposed to myriad toxins daily, both from within and without. Just by virtue of living near the great and wonderful metropolis of Toronto, I have the pleasure of inhaling highly polluted air most days of the week. For the first two months that we lived in this house, I could smell the distinct aroma of fresh paint gases (courtesy of the landlord, who was actually attempting to do us a favor) every time I entered the house. I ingest all kinds of unsavory substances that leach through plastic water bottles, the plastic containers I use to transport my lunches to work, the dyed and bleached clothing I wear, or the cleansers I use (though I’ve tried to eliminate as many of those as I can).
And that’s only the exogenous toxins. We also take in toxins from the food we eat, whether hydrogenated oils from junk food, artificial colors or flavors, or “milk” shakes at McDonald’s or Burger King. Because these substances are not made in nature and our bodies weren’t designed to process them, the liver works overtime to detoxify them out of the body (as much as possible) to keep us healthy.
When your liver is on overdrive neutralizing toxins that you take in, free radicals are formed. Free radicals are basically cell-killers, and they can result in cancer and chronic diseases that are often connected to inflammation (such as arthritis, heart disease, etc.). Those of us with weak immunity or overworked filtering systems (such as myself) suffer the consequences and wander around with stuffed noses, digestive distress, joint inflammation, or other chronic conditions that are so often attributed to “aging” or simply “life in general.”
One of my natural health practitioners put it this way: imagine a pile of bricks that’s being built into a little tower, one brick at a time. Each brick is a different toxin that your body has to deal with and try to eliminate. As with a pile of bricks, you can add quite a few to the pile without any dire consequences at all; in fact, observed from the outside, everything appears hunky-dory, stable and unchanged. One would even infer that the extra weight being piled on top is doing no harm, making no difference whatsoever.
But then you reach the point where the pile can no longer support even one more brick. You place that last brick at the top of the pile and–BAM! (not to quote Emeril in such grave matters, or anything)–the pile completely collapses. Your body works the same way. When you were younger (or healthier), you may have been able to tolerate a huge number of toxic “bricks” in your system. But tax the system long enough and then, suddenly, it appears as if everything breaks down at once.
That’s what happened to me several years ago. After assuming all was well for years (even though I drank up to a liter (quart) of aspartame-sweetened pop a day, had 3-5 coffees a day, imbibed wine and spirits on weekends and consumed whatever junk food, candy, cookies, cakes, or other garbage I desired on a regular basis), everything came crashing down. I spent about a year suffering from symptoms of irritable bowel syndrome, endured multiple recurrent sinus infections (one so serious that it required four–FOUR!–courses of antibiotics to eradicate), and suffered almost continuous yeast infections, coupled with fatigue, depression, and general feelings of “lousy.” At that point, I really needed a cleanse.
All this to say, if there’ are any actions we can regularly take to diminish our load of toxic “bricks,” we should do so.
Q: What Is a Cleansing or Detox Diet?
Basically, cleansing means “cleaning up the diet (and, ideally, environment) to allow the body to rest from fighting off and eliminating toxins for a while, so that it can repair and rejuvenate.”
There are many levels of detox, depending on where you find yourself to begin with. It’s recommended that people start at a level just one echelon away from (less toxic than) where they are now, because detoxing encourages the toxins to exit the body quickly (through elimination and sweating, primarily), and if too many to escape too fast, you’ll end up feeling sort of like a deflated baloon in a mud puddle–or one really sick puppy (this effect is called a “healing crisis“).
The very first time I went on a detox diet, my naturopath–only two months into her practice–didn’t think to warn me what could happen if I changed my eating habits too drastically. She prescribed what is essentially a NAG diet, but without any animal products. After one day of the diet, I was felled by my body’s extreme healing crisis (I describe the event here). Luckily, it passed in a couple of days.
By starting “slowly”–that is, without altering too many aspects of your diet or life at once–you avoid a severe healing crisis. Most people feel a little bit tired or sleepy; some experience mild flu-like symptoms such as a sore throat, but these ususally disappear in a day or two.
Q: How Do You Know What to Eat and What to Eliminate on a Cleanse?
The diet you choose should depend on the diet you eat regularly before the cleanse. If someone enjoying a SAD (Standard American Diet) decided to embark on a water fast, it would likely spark a full-scale healing crisis and the person would feel rather sick. So decide where you are now, then move in baby steps toward a full-scale cleanse.
There are basically five or six levels of cleansing diet. Ideally, you would work your way up to the most challenging level as you clean up your diet over the years.
Level One: Basic non-toxic diet for everyone. (from Elson Haas, The Detox Diet)
Level one is what I often refer to as the NAG diet, the diet that, if followed regularly, should allow your body to exist with minimum toxic intake and to keep you pretty healthy. (Other versions are Anne Marie Colbin’s diet in Food and Healing, Tosca Reno’s The Eat Clean Diet; or Elson Haas’ diet in Staying Healthy with Nutrition.). If you’re not already on this type of diet, it would be the first step. Try this for a week and see how you feel. You could theoretically stay on this diet for the rest of your life.
Level One: The NonToxic Diet (from Elson Haas, The Detox Diet):
Eat organic foods whenever possible.
Drink filtered water.
Rotate foods [ie, eat each of these no more than once every four days or so], especially common allergens such as milk products, eggs, wheat, and yeasted foods.
Practice food combining.
Eat a natural, seasonal cuisine.
Include fruits, vegetables, whole grains, legumes, nuts, seeds, and, for omnivarians, some low or non-fat dairy products, fresh fish (not shellfish) and organic poultry.
Cook in iron, stainless steel, glass, or porcelain cookware.
Avoid or minimize red meats, cured meats, organ meats, refined foods, canned foods, sugar, salt, saturated fats, coffee, alcohol, and nicotine.
And while it’s not stated in this list, Haas also prohibits anything processed or made with chemicals or artificial colorings–this should go without saying.
["Sounds good, Mum, but do we have to do the part about avoiding meat?"]
Level Two: (this and later levels from Caroline Dupont,Enlightened Eating).
Level two is a step beyond level one, as “it eliminates all animal products and glutenous grains.” As Dupont points out, this can be a lifelong diet rather than a detox diet if mostly organic foods are eaten and sources of protein and vitamin B12 (which can only be acquired naturally through animal products) are carefully monitored.
For those who already eat a Level One diet as their regular fare, Level Two would be considered a mild cleanse.
Level Three: Living Foods Only
This level kicks it up a notch (seriously, WHAT is Emeril doing in this discussion?) by allowing only raw foods, effectively eliminating grains (except for sprouted grains). People at this level eat raw fruits, vegetables, nuts, seeds, freshly pressed juices, sprouts, and possibly raw dairy.
Q: Why Is Raw Supposedly Better? Why Are There No Grains? Isn’t That a Lot of Fruit–Why is All That Sugar in the Fruit Acceptable?
RAW: A raw diet provides the body with readily available digestive enzymes in raw, but not cooked, foods; these would otherwise need to be generated courtesy of your saliva, stomach, and pancreas. For that reason, it is much easier to digest raw versus cooked food; raw foods give the body a bit of a break so it can concentrate on other functions, such as detoxifying, maintaining, and repairing. People on all-raw diets have experienced incredible boosts in energy as well as healing effects.
GRAINS: Unsprouted grains (the kind we normally eat) are more difficult to digest than raw foods. There is nothing inherently wrong with eating grains, especially if your digestive system is in tip-top condition; but for those of us with digestive issues, or when cleansing the system, grains are just a bit too challenging.
FRUIT SUGARS: It’s true that a raw diet provides a large number of fruits, and fruits do contain natural sugars. But please don’t confuse naturally-occurring sugars with refined white sugar (or even honey or maple syrup, which are both concentrated sugars). When you eat something refined, the sugar is converted to glucose (a monosaccharide–the smallest sugar molecule, as it’s broken down by the body and passed into the bloodstream) extremely quickly, because it’s already practically in the form of glucose when you eat it.
With fruits, the sugars are bound up with fibre and other nutrients, and the body must work to extract the different elements in the fruit and to convert the sugars to glucose in the body. This means you won’t get the same kind of spike in blood sugar levels from eating a fresh fruit as you will from eating a piece of cake or even cup of coffee with sugar in it. Sugar in fruits is healthy and doesn’t generate toxins in the body. (Think of diabetics, for instance–they’re allowed most fruits). Fruits with extremely high sugar levels could be eaten in smaller quantities, but even then, they are still healthy foods. And fruits are digested very quickly and easily in the body–they are the easiest foods for your body to break down, so they don’t tax the system.
["Give us more fruits is what I say, Mum!']
Level Four: Blended Foods, Smoothies and Soups
By blending foods, you render them yet more easily digestible. Dupont suggests incorporating some of these foods into a raw foods diet; furthermore, this level is presented as an excellent “introduction to fasting for people with hypoglycemia, bowel disorders [or] constipation.”
Level Five: Juice Fast And/Or Master Cleanse
At this level, you’re basically removing the need for your bowel to process any fibre and are providing very nutrient-rich clear liquids that are processed very easily by the digestive tract. At level five, a person consumes only freshly squeezed or pressed fruit and vegetable juices, or the Master Cleanse, a mixture of filtered water, lemon juice, maple syrup and a pinch of cayenne pepper.
Level Six: Water Fast
At this point, only those who have already gone through the other five phases should attempt a water fast; drinking only pure filtered water gives the body’s internal organs the ultimate work break. According to Dupont, no one should even attempt a water fast who has not first “established a consistently healthy diet for at least 6 months first.”
["Yes, pure water is definitely good, Mum. Especially in summer."]
Q:Why Did You Choose the Cleanse You Did?
When I was in nutrition school, after spending a full year following the NAG diet and trying out most of the other diets we learned about, I felt ready to complete a Level Five (Master Cleanse) diet for almost a full week. At that point, my “regular” diet was so non-toxic that the Master Cleanse was a good step. I felt great while on it and did reap the benefits of better digestion and more energy.
These days, however, my regular diet is more like Level Two, above. I already don’t eat meat; I already don’t eat refined foods; I already don’t eat most gluten grains on a daily basis. When I examined the next level–all raw–I realized that would be too challenging for me, and I was afraid I’d slip if I tried to limit myself to raw foods alone. As a compromise, I chose a diet that still eliminated the grains, but retained some cooked foods. I’m happy with the compromise and am feeling some pretty good results so far.
Maybe next time, I’ll be ready for another raw-go-round.
Q: Readers: What Do You Think?
If you’ve made it this far, I’d love to know: how many of you have tried detox diets or cleanses? What was your experience? What worked, and what would you warn against?
[Yep, another raw bar. . . and so soon! But there's a good reason. . . ]
Well, it’s finally happened: after years of needless anxiety before every annual medical check-up (only to be told each time that nothing’s wrong). . . this time, something was wrong. And I must admit, I’m shocked.
When I saw my doctor a few weeks ago, she sent me off for all the standard tests appropriate for “someone my age.” Then yesterday at the call-back appointment, I was informed that I have osteopenia. Sounds scary initially: osteopenia is the (potential) precursor to osteoporosis, as the word means “thinning of the bones.” Osteoporosis means “porous bones” and is a greater danger.
Even as she was speaking, questions caromed around in my mind: What, exactly, does this mean? Doesn’t everyone experience thinning of the bones as they age? How serious is my situation?–etc. Apparently, the test, called DEXA (“Dual Energy X-Ray Absorption”) works by measuring the density of my bones and comparing it against the bones of an imaginary 25 year-old woman (the “gold standard,” as my doctor says. But hey, shouldn’t that be the “greyish-white” standard?). Statistically, my bones were a 1.3 per cent standard deviation from that (no idea what that means). A 2.5 per cent deviation equals “osteoporosis.” When I asked how I compare to other women my age, she noted that I was still a bit below average.
Now, I simply cannot express how much this news ticks me off! I mean, isn’t being fat good for anything these days?? One of the health issues I never (I mean, never) considered as a possibility was osteoporosis; you see, being overweight is actually a preventative in that area (bones rebuild and strengthen in accordance with ”weight-bearing exercise,” and I have definitely been bearing excess weight the past few years.). I do, however, have some of the other risk factors (such as being female).
Well, I’m trying not to get overly stressed about this (stress, as it turns out, is one of the factors that contributes to bone loss. Bien sûr). Even my doctor noted that, should nothing change over the next few years, she wouldn’t give it another thought; it would only be considered a problem if I keep losing bone density.
This shocking diagnosis got me moving (in the sense of ”getting hyped up,” though of course also in the sense of “walking more”–gotta increase that exercise now!). I pulled out a bunch of my old texts from nutrition school and started reading. Seems that the absolute amount of calcium and other essential bone-building nutrients is irrelevant, if you’re not digesting them properly. Bad digestion=malabsorption=too few minerals in the bloodstream (at which point your opportunistic bloodstream leaches them out of your bones, teeth, and whatever else it can find–the nerve!). In other words, you can consume calcium out the yin-yang, but if your body isn’t absorbing it properly, you may as well be eating matchsticks (actually, no, don’t do that–too much sulfur isn’t good, either).
A highly acidic diet (as in, “those heinous, calcium-siphoning, bone-sucking junk foods and chocolate bars that have wooed me too many times in the past”) will also cause you to lose minerals from the bone (chocolate is a particular culprit, apparently, as it contains both caffeine AND refined sugar–both mineral-leachers). And believe it or not, meats and most dairy products are equally bad, as they are also highly acidic (too bad I grew up in a household where we ate meat every day, usually more than once). Oh, and let’s not forget that surreptitious bone-stealer: stress. So, in a contest to see who possesses the most negative traits contributing to malabsorption–well, all I can say is, “Yay! I finally won a contest!”
So now I have a real reason to eat better and exercise more: unlike my Stone-Age ancestors, I am partial to walking upright, and would prefer to retain that ability.
For those of you who are interested, you can prevent (and some even say reverse) osteopenia with the proper diet. This includes ingesting sufficient calcium, of course (think green leafys, almonds, legumes, figs, blackstrap molasses and, if you’re so inclined, sardines, salmon and yogurt); sufficient Vitamin D (at least 10 minutes of sunshine per day, or 1000 IU in supplement form); lots of magnesium (green leafys and beans/legumes again), and a complement of other vitamins and minerals, such as B’s, K, and boron, in smaller quantities. Basically, a diet high in vegetables, fruits, nuts, seeds, beans and legumes. Because it’s been a while since I practised nutrition directly, I’ll be heading for a trip to my naturopath next week to see what she has to say. And this will mean a bunch of new, ultra-healthy recipes on the blog!
All this got me thinking about Susan at Food Blogga’s “Beautiful Bones” event in honor of National Osteoporosis Month. I’d actually been planning to submit this very entry to Susan. Now, however, I’m also motivated to go make another batch, just for me. (Oh, and Susan also offers a list of calcium-rich foods on her event page.)
I came up with this recipe when I first started teaching cooking classes a few years ago. Each of the classes was assigned a theme, such as ”Glorious Greens,” “Tricks with Tofu” (foods, not making it disappear), or “Great and Gluten-Free.” One class, called “Bone Builders” (which now sounds to me more like an architectural firm on The Flintstones), was the impetus for these bars. They were a great hit with the cooking classes, and later, a popular seller at the organic market where I sold baked goods for a few years. And since they were designed specifically to improve bone health, these treats seem the perfect contribution to Susan’s event.
In the past few years, I’ve discovered that these are terrific as a mid-day energy booster, a great portable lunch on the go, or a substitute for trail mix. You can keep a wrapped bar in your drawer at work for an emergency nibble, or bring it along during a walk through the woods. Once made and wrapped, the bars will keep for up to 2 weeks in the fridge (they have honestly never lasted that long over here). With a texture like that of a protein bar you’d buy at the store, these are much more flavorful, with tart lemon peel, dried cherries accented by sweet dried fig, and the crackly, popping crunch of fig seeds alongside ground almonds. They’re very filling and a fabulous bar to have on hand.
When I first created these, I ran a quick nutritional analysis to ensure that they’d provide a meaningful boost of calcium. Courtesy of almonds (the nut with highest calcium levels), dried figs (the fruit with highest calcium levels), tahini (made from sesame seeds–yep, the seed with highest calcium levels) and sour cherries (no slouch in the calcium department), these bars are a powerhouse of bone-building minerals. The stats confirmed my expectation: each bar offers 140 mg. of calcium per bar (about 1/10 of the daily requriement) along with 6 grams of protein and 7 grams of fiber (bonus!). I’m not sure how much deviation that represents from the statistical norm, but no matter–they’re delicious all the same.
[EDIT, January 2012: I finally took my own advice in 2010 and embarked on a year-long quest to improve my bone density, with the help of my naturopath, a changed diet, and more exercise. Read about how I reversed the bone deteroriation here.]
Raw Fig and Cherry Bars
These are deliciously chewy and not too sweet. If you can find organic UNsweetened dried cherries (the kind that are very tart), they are really the best choice. If you can’t find them, you may wish to reduce, or even omit, the agave nectar.
2 cups ( 290 g.) raw natural almonds
1/4 cup (30 g.) finely ground flax seeds
finely grated peel of 2 organic lemons
1-1/4 cups (190-200 g.) quartered dried figs, stems removed (measure after removing stems)
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) to 1/4 cup (60 ml.) agave nectar, to taste (and depending on how dry the mixture is)
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) raw tahini (or regular, if you’re not concerned about the bars being raw)
1 cup (120-130 g.) organic dried tart cherries, unsweetened
Lightly grease a 9″ x 9″ (about 20cm x 20 cm.) pan, or line with plastic wrap (I prefer the plastic wrap option).
In the bowl of a food processor (this recipe won’t work in a blender), combine the nuts and flaxseeds, and process until you have a fine meal that begins to adhere to the sides of the processor bowl (it will appear as if the mixture has stopped spinning round the bowl).Do not overprocess, however, or you’ll end up with nut butter!
Add the lemon peel and figs, and process again until well blended and the mixture resembles a coarse meal. Add remaining ingredients and process briefly to chop the cherries and create a moist “dough” (it will form a ball).Pinch a bit of the mixture between your fingers to test the consistency.If it sticks together and feels slightly moist, it’s ready.
Turn the mixture into the pan and press down very firmly with your fist or the back of a metal spatula.The mixture should be very compact and solid.
Refrigerate until firm, about an hour, or at least 20 minutes.Cut into 12 bars and store in an airtight container in the refrigerator, or wrap each bar individually in plastic wrap. The bars will keep refrigerated for up to two weeks.
Per bar: 140 mg. calcium, 5 g. protein, 5 g. fiber
[This recipe will also appear in my upcoming cookbook, Sweet Freedom, along with more than 100 others, most of which are not featured on this blog. For more information, check the "Cookbook" button at right, or visit the cookbook blog.]
