The Chicken or the Egg?

My hen Sapphire

There’s still a chill in the air, but I’m already making plans for the months ahead. As I was looking at seed catalogs and dreaming of the beautiful herbs, flowers, and vegetables that’ll grow in my garden this summer, I started to think about the metaphorical seeds we plant in the spring, the time that traditionally represents new beginnings.

In this time of starting anew, I’m wondering how to begin…

First blossoms of the year in my dad's fruit orchard

Up until this point, family, school, and work have dictated most of my life. I grew up in Seattle because that’s where my parents lived. Then off to Massachusetts I went because I got accepted at my dream college. After that, I flew to Paris for graduate school. Upon finishing my thesis, I landed at a boarding school in Maine for my first job. Then, Los Angeles beckoned with a teaching position I couldn’t refuse. Four years later, I left education to pursue my passion for cooking and writing. My parents’ town of Paso Robles, in California wine country—ranked one of the “foodiest small towns” by Bon Appétit—was an obvious choice.

Now nearly three years hence, I enjoy this town and love having my parents just up the road, but I still haven’t set down roots. Friends have always been important to me; yet, I haven’t created much of a community here.

Downtown Paso Robles

When my parents came here from Seattle 11 years ago, they planned to stay forever. But, things change.

Although their move doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll move, it’s made me start to evaluate my own life and whether or not my future is here. Since most of my work is mobile, for the first time, my destiny doesn’t depend on anything other than the whisperings of my heart, which is both frightening and exhilarating.

In August I decided to take a break from dating, but I’m feeling the itch to get back out there and find a man to marry and start a family with. But, to grow a beautiful garden or a wonderful life, you can’t throw just any seeds in the ground, walk away, and expect miracles. Just as I spend hours pouring over seed catalogs to choose the right varieties of vegetables and then carefully plant, water, and nurture the seeds into a bountiful harvest, it’s the same with the metaphorical seeds we plant. Unfortunately, we can’t just scatter them willy-nilly and wait for our perfect life to unfurl. We have to make calculated decisions and take action.

My very first egg from my small flock of hens

Right now, however, I’m not sure what actions to take. Do I start with the chicken or the egg? Do I move to a city or town that I think might feed my soul and then find my dream man, or do I find the man and then move to where he is? Life is full of big questions like these; however, only when we hone in on what we truly desire and take steps in that direction can we reap the bounty. When you plant seeds, they may grow differently than you expect, but their fruit only exists as a result of your initial actions of planting and tending to them.

As we approach the season of new beginnings, what seeds will you be planting? In what ways will you nurture them?

The harvest of Delicata squash from my garden

Nurturing Baked Delicata 

While we make plans to plant seeds (both actual and metaphorical), use these cold winter nights to pull inward, nurture yourself, and replenish your energy for the powerful new beginnings ahead.

There’s nothing quite as warm and comforting as winter squash. This recipe for Delicata squash is simple but very satisfying.

Delicata squash (plan 1 to 2 halves per person)
Maple syrup
Saigon cinnamon (also called Vietnamese cinnamon)

Preheat the oven to 400ºF. Wash the squash and then cut in half lengthwise. Use a small spoon to scoop out the seeds. Place the squash, cut side up, on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Judiciously drizzle with maple syrup (they’re already pretty sweet on their own) and sprinkle with Saigon cinnamon. Bake until soft and slightly browned, about 1 hour.

Delicata squash growing in my garden last summer

Baked Delicata

“Help” Shouldn’t Be a Four-Letter Word

Sunrise over the Matterhorn. I took this photo in 2004 when I was teaching in Zermatt, Switzerland

Has your body ever given you a big ‘ole kick in the rear to tell you, “Hey, you’ve gotta make some changes?” Mine certainly has…over and over again because apparently, I haven’t yet learned my lesson.

A beautiful snowy day in California

I’m a recovering Do-It-Yourselfer. However, I’m not the kind of DIYer you’ll find lurking behind rows of paint or stacks of tile at a home improvement store, nor are you likely to find me fixing a leaky faucet or changing light fixtures. I’m a DIYer in the sense that I don’t like asking for help. I want things done my way, and I’ve even conditioned myself to believe that only my way is the way. Plus, somehow I’ve wired it so I feel like I should do things myself. For some reason, before my personal DIY intervention, I believed that unless I did something completely on my own—from beginning to end—I couldn’t take credit for it, or somehow I’d cheated.

There are many steps in my recovery process, and I’m only partially through them, but bit-by-bit, I’m getting there.

For a long time, I had an aversion to hiring people to help me with things like cleaning and yard work. Many years ago, however, I was having a lot of back pain, and my doctor told me I couldn’t do housework. Although I knew scrubbing the bathtub and pushing the vacuum was aggravating the disc bulge in my lower back, I couldn’t quite imagine not cleaning my own home. Plus, I prided myself on being a good housekeeper. I think at one point, I even mentioned it as one of my skills in an online dating profile (I eventually deleted it, when I realized this wasn’t particularly sexy.)

Me with a very large root vegetable I grew all-by-myself

To follow my doctor’s instructions and still have an orderly home, I realized I’d have to get someone to clean for me periodically. I found a flyer at my local natural food co-op, and hired the woman to come every two weeks. The experience was a revelation. It turns out I wasn’t nearly as good at cleaning as I’d thought. Under the magic scrubbing of this woman, my apartment was completely transformed. Who knew that countertops, showers, and toilets could shine so luminously!

Recently, my mom and I spent countless long hours working on our book about the mind-body-spirit connection to what and how we eat. Sometimes we’d get so wrapped up in it that we’d go days upon days without ever leaving the house or even setting foot on the front lawn. Two days before the book was due, guess what…my back went out. It was my body’s way of rebelling and saying, “Hey, get some help. You don’t have to do everything!” As I said, I’m a recovering DIYer, which means occasionally I slip back into my old ways. So, now confined to a recumbent position per doctor’s orders, I got someone to assist me around the house today. Everything looks and feels so much better that I can’t help but wonder how else my life will improve when I let go of control and allow others to help.

Are you like me and sometimes wait until your body yells, “Enough is enough”? It’s not always easy to realize you don’t have to do everything yourself. What actions can you take today to preempt your body from finding its own ways to get you to slow down? Consider taking a luxuriously long bath, making a plan for delegating your work, or maybe even creating a delicious dinner, simply because you deserve it.

Root vegetables from my garden

                                  Comforting Roasted Root Vegetables

As we follow the cycle of life, every season has its own energy. Traditionally, the winter is the time to pull inward and nurture yourself. It’s a time to replenish your strength and take care of your own needs, which might very well mean getting some help with all the things on your “to do” list. In the meantime, what better way to nourish your body and soul than with a warm plate of roasted root vegetables!

Serves 6

1 lb. gold potatoes (skin on), cut into bite-sized pieces
1 lb. carrots, peeled and cut into bite-sized pieces
1 lb. beets, peeled and cut into bite-sized pieces
1 lb. parsnips, peeled and cut into bite-sized pieces
10-15 sage leaves, chopped
1 tsp. sea salt
½ tsp. coarse ground pepper
¼ cup olive oil

Preheat the oven to 450ºF. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper.

This is a rustic dish; however, the more uniform you can make the size of the vegetables (about ½-1 inch sized pieces), the more evenly they’ll roast.

Wash, peel, and cut the vegetables. Divide the cut vegetables evenly between the two baking sheets. Sprinkle with the sage, salt, and pepper. Drizzle the olive oil over the vegetables and toss together. I find that my hands are the best tools for this.

Put in the oven and roast until the vegetables are cooked through and browned on the outside, about an hour. To help the vegetables brown evenly, I recommend rotating the pans from top to bottom halfway through and stirring the vegetables once or twice while they’re roasting.

Welcome, Dear New Year!

“Don’t tell anyone or your wish won’t come true.” Have you ever heard this saying?

When I was a young child, every chance I got—birthday candles, shooting stars, and wishing wells—I wished for cherry pie. I never told anyone because I wanted my wish to come true. It was, however, only when I finally fessed up, that I got the cherry pie.

Making my wish for cherry pie

Here’s another confession: I keep a list of potential baby names in a drawer next to my bed, and sometimes when I can’t fall asleep, I plan my wedding. This used to be a secret—a guilty pleasure that I kept to myself—since I’m neither dating nor expecting. I’m learning, however, that the more I share my dreams, even the embarrassing little secrets like these, the more support I get.

As we transition into the New Year, I plan to take more ownership of my dreams, rather than hide them away in a drawer. I want to proudly announce to the world, “This is who I am and this is what I desire,” but at the same time, I want to try to detach from the idea that there’s just one possible version of my life. Dreams can manifest in a myriad of ways. If we’re honest and forthright about what we want, others can’t help but assist us in making our dreams come true. Some things—like the list of baby names—I’ve preferred to keep to myself because I didn’t want to be laughed at or pitied. But, I’m slowly learning that when something brings you joy and when you tell people about it with confidence, they don’t pity or laugh at you.

The New Year is a time for reflection and anticipation of things to come. I’ve been enjoying how different I feel this time around. No more longing. Just contentment. This past summer, I had a meltdown. I was pretty sure that I’d never have the things I desire most. The good thing that came from this, however, was that I realized I’d have to be willing to let my dreams happen in different ways. Rather than doggedly looking for Mr. Right and a storybook romance, followed by a beautiful wedding in wine country, and then a healthy baby, I began to consider other alternatives and different routes to that imagined future.

Additionally, I decided to release my concern for what people would think if I did things a bit differently. It turns out I actually care a lot more about how I appear to others than they care about how I appear to them. I also worried what my conservative grandparents would think if I decided to have a baby on my own. But the truth is, although it might not be their first choice, they’d end up loving the baby.

One of the locations where I've pictured my future wedding

The more I’ve released my firm grip on having my life be a certain way, and the more I’ve been willing to own my secrets and share them with the world, the more content I’ve become. Ever since my midsummer meltdown, I’ve felt more at peace than I have in years. Despite previous attempts, this is the first time it truly feels as though I’ve surrendered to whatever path my life will take. I do still occasionally peek at the list of baby names and imagine dancing by moonlight at my wedding reception, but now it’s more of a before-bed activity much like reading or doing a crossword, rather than a longing pulling at my heart.

As we enter 2012, I’m of course still hoping that this will be the year I fall in love with my forever man, but it doesn’t feel like a necessity. And rather than thinking about giving birth to a real baby, I’m much more focused on my other baby—my cookbook that will be published this year.

What wishes have you been keeping to yourself? What are your dreams, desires, and longings? In what ways can you share them with others? What steps can you take to manifest your dreams—or perhaps some unforeseen version of them—in the New Year?

I wish you the most splendid start to 2012. May this New Year be filled with love, adventure, and of course, good food!

A Champagne Cocktail for the New Year:

Cherry Pie Sparkler

In honor of the cherry pie I wished for as a child, here’s a cocktail to remind us to share our hopes and dreams with others so that they’ll come true. As we transition into the New Year and eagerly anticipate the exciting adventures that await us in 2012, raise a glass. Here’s to welcoming our dreams in whatever manner they manifest themselves!


Makes one delicious cocktail

4 frozen cherries, slightly defrosted
½ tsp. sugar
a pinch of cinnamon
5 oz. sparkling wine

sugar for the rim of the glass
1 cinnamon stick

To frost the glass with sugar: Gently moisten the rim of a Champagne flute with a damp finger. Sprinkle a teaspoon or so of sugar on a small plate. Dip the rim of the glass in the sugar and roll the edges in the sugar until completely frosted.

To make the cocktail: In a small bowl, muddle the cherries with the sugar and cinnamon. With a small spoon, transfer the cherries to the Champagne flute, and top with the sparkling wine. Serve with a cinnamon stick and enjoy!

***Happy New Year!!!***

Do All Roads Lead Here?

Do you ever have the feeling that you would’ve ended up where you are today regardless of the paths you’ve chosen and the decisions you’ve made?

In the past, I’ve thought of my life as a sinuous trail with forks and offshoots that offer different possibilities for my life. At certain junctures, turning right instead of left or taking the uphill as opposed to the downhill has led me to where I am today. In my mind, my life path has looked like a family tree, continually branching off, each decision leading to another and another.

However, now I’m not so sure that’s how it works.

Sinuous Life Path

I wonder if we actually choose our destiny or if it chooses us. Is it possible that in spite of the choices we make, in some way or another, we eventually end up where we were always meant to be. This idea I’m formulating doesn’t, of course, preclude freewill and choice, it just seems that there are some greater forces at play, like a large magnet that continually pulls us toward a certain life.

The final two lines of “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost—“I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference”—are commonly used to support the idea that taking the unconventional route leads to great things; however, it turns out that in previous lines Frost says something quite different. He writes that in his old age, he will say that it made all the difference, but chances are the paths were pretty similar. Could that really be true? Are the paths we choose between not really as different as we think? Would I have ended up where I am today regardless?

 Christmas Ornament from 1982

Me as a Young Girl

While decorating my Christmas tree last week, I made a surprising discovery. In many ways, despite supposed transformations and various life experiences, I’m the exact same person I was as a young child. Every year since I was born my mom has given me a Christmas ornament. Usually she chooses it and wraps it for me to open on Christmas morning. For some reason, when I was five years old, she let me pick out my own ornament. The one I chose was made up of little wooden spoons and a rolling pin. I distinctly remember being at the mall and falling in love with the ornament. My mom tried to convince me to choose one of the prettier ones, but I was adamant. I wanted the cooking one. Was it chance that I would be so attracted to this particular ornament or was it fate?

Often when I look back on my life, I think about the moments that seemed to be turning points, times in my life when another decision would have seemingly sent me in a completely different direction. But I wonder whether or not those moments were really as pivotal as I imagined. Is it inevitable that the interests and passions we possessed as children propel us toward our eventual destiny, despite the detours we take along the way? Throughout my life I’ve done many different things, yet it seems I keep coming back to the very things my five year-old self was drawn to so many years ago.

What are your passions? Did you have these interests as a child? If not, were there things you enjoyed as a child that pushed you in the direction of your current life? Are there parts of your young self that you’ve denied while trying to take the path seemingly less traveled? What steps could you take today to reawaken those latent interests and rekindle that particular destiny?

Tahini Balls

One of my earliest memories involves crawling into the upper kitchen cabinets—with the aid of a chair—and pulling down random ingredients, which I mixed together to make what I called “Tahini Balls.” They were a concoction of tahini, cocoa powder, peanut butter, honey, coconut, and whatever else I could pilfer. Barely old enough to walk or talk, but I was already blending and mixing. The following recipe is my attempt at recreating those tasty treats from my first foray into cooking.

I must mention…I was raised without wheat, dairy, or refined sugar, so these little balls seemed quite decadent to me at the time.

The next time you need a pick-me up, eat a few of these instead of candy or a store bought energy bar!

Makes about 20 nickel-sized balls

1/3 cup creamy peanut butter
2 tbs. tahini
2 tbs. honey
3 tbs. unsweetened cocoa
¼ cup unsweetened shredded coconut

In a small bowl, cream the peanut butter and tahini with the honey and cocoa. Using your palms, roll the mixture into small, nickel-sized balls. Put the coconut on a small plate and roll each ball in the coconut. Chill for a few hours or overnight. This will make them firmer and less sticky.

Affirm the Affirmative

I’m seeing my chiropractor today, and I’m going to tell a fib.

I’m an honest person, perhaps even to a fault. As a child when my mom would enhance a story for dramatic effect, I was always there to set the record straight. “No, Mom, there weren’t ten geese. There were only eight.” Or, “That’s not right. You paid $5.99, not $6.00.” Truth and details have always been important to me, sometimes annoyingly so.

A few years ago, however, I discovered a secret. Fibbing can bring about remarkable results. The medical profession repeatedly reminds us that to get the best care, we must be honest with our doctors. In some cases, however, honesty isn’t always the best policy.

I thrive on positive reinforcement and recoil from rebuke. When I first moved to Los Angeles, my new physician asked how often I exercised. I’d just started a new job, had a long commute, and was acquainting myself with the Southern California car culture, which meant that unless walking from my office to the break room was what she meant by exercise, I wasn’t getting much. Nor was I taking the vitamin supplements she was urging. I was duly chastised and felt like a schoolgirl being scolded for not doing my homework. After that visit, however, I did not commence an exercise regimen.

Reveling in having conquered the mountain

The next time my doctor asked about my exercise habits, I told her I worked out three to five times a week and did a combination of cardio and weights. It felt so good to be praised that I was inspired to actually make it true. That, combined with the guilt about not telling the truth, was the jumpstart I needed. I reinstated my gym membership, hired a personal trainer, and bought a load of vitamins at the health food store. Had I told her that I’d put my gym membership on permanent “vacation hold” and that after a long day of teaching elementary school, I was too tired to do anything but eat dinner and watch TV, I’m pretty sure I would have been reprimanded and wouldn’t have felt so inspired to start exercising.

On another occasion, a dentist told me I had bad teeth and scared me with stories of gum decay. Rather than this encouraging me to make an even greater effort with my oral hygiene, I felt so discouraged—like the whole situation was hopeless—that I gave up flossing all together. It turns out that this dentist was just trying to find ways to drum up extra business. The next dentist I saw praised my strong teeth and my good habits. Wanting to prove her right, I went home and started flossing religiously and put more thought into how and when I brushed.

When I see my chiropractor this afternoon and he asks if I’ve been keeping up with the stretches and exercises that he recommended, I’m going to tell him that I have, which is mostly true. Seeing him and fibbing a bit will be just the inspiration I need to put even more time and energy into doing the things necessary to keep my body strong, healthy, and pain free.

A photo from my backpacking days

Although positive reinforcement doesn’t work for everyone, in my years as a schoolteacher, I observed that the majority of children do best when encouraged in the affirmative. And it’s the same for adults. For instance, the other day a friend told me that I’m the healthiest person she knows. Unfortunately, the Meadow she knew is a more energetic 20-year old version of myself. Wanting, however, to live up to her view of me, I immediately ate some leafy greens and went for a fast walk up a steep hill.

What motivates you? If you’re like me and are inspired by praise, when giving yourself pep talks or when conversing with friends, clients, or children, try to find ways to laud effort. For most of us, this makes us want to do and be that much better.

Leafy Greens with Green Apple

Leafy greens in my garden this past summer

Wanting to be the person my old friend thinks I am, I’m making an even greater effort to exercise and eat well. Leafy greens are not only full of healthful vitamins and minerals, but also they contain protein and are really tasty too. The Tuscan kale that I planted in my garden last winter continues to grow and grow. I’ve had the opportunity to eat it in soups, salads, and sautéed. This is my current favorite preparation. It’s full of flavor and is a wonderful late autumn dish. I especially like it alongside roasted poultry.

1 bunch kale (approx. 8 oz.), stalks removed and roughly chopped
1 bunch Swiss chard (approx. 8 oz.), roughly chopped (stems included)
1 Granny Smith apple, peeled, cored, and thinly sliced
5-6 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1/3 cup cider vinegar
salt (optional)*

Wash the kale and chard. As long as you can cut the greens safely while they’re still damp, don’t worry about drying them. The extra moisture will actually help facilitate the cooking. Remove the fibrous interior rib (stalk) from the kale and then roughly chop the leaves. Chop the chard, including the stem. Place both in a large heavy-bottomed pot. Add the apple and garlic slices. Pour the cider vinegar over the greens and turn to medium heat and cover. Stir occasionally and adjust heat as needed so that the greens braise in their own juices without sticking to the bottom. After about an hour they will be tender and ready for an autumn feast.

*I don’t use salt in this dish since the greens have a natural saltiness to them, but if you want it a bit saltier, add it to taste.

Auditioning the Future

Dating in your teens and twenties is like eating at an all-you-can-eat buffet, whereas dating in your thirties and beyond is more like getting a sampler plate that’s been passed around the table a few times.

In our teens and twenties, romantic relationships often grow from friendships or from what Carrie Bradshaw calls “zsa zsa zoo.” Dating later in life, however, is a completely different story. Instead of just seeking chemistry and connection, many of us are also auditioning lifestyles. Because, face it, by the time we’re in our thirties, we’ve already made a number of decisions about the direction our life will take, and most likely we won’t change drastically, and neither will the other person. This means that we don’t just date a person, we’re also dating their career, exes, possible children, pets, habits, and interests.

Envisioning a future wedding

It’s no longer just about “hey, he’s good looking” or “he’s so nice.” Choosing whom to spend time with can mean the difference between being with someone who’s married to his job and someone who hasn’t yet found his passion. Or maybe it means spending vacations visiting in-laws when you would’ve been touring Europe if you’d ended up with another guy. Not one of these things is better than another, but each presents a different type of life.

As I navigate the dating world in my thirties, I imagine what my life would be like with each man that I go out with. Although I try not to, the truth is that when I’m dating, I’m looking for someone who could be a potential husband as well as a father to my future children. Dating is no longer just about whether or not you feel an attraction and enjoy each other’s company. It’s also about finding a partner to balance the checkbook and make dinner with you. And it’s about finding someone whose dreams you can support and who will do the same for you.

The advantage of dating in your thirties and beyond is that you have a pretty good idea of what you’d be getting into with each new prospect. Unfortunately, that advantage doesn’t necessarily offset the fact that as the dating pool gets smaller with each passing year, there are increasingly more factors to weigh. You find yourself asking, “What would it be like to be with a musician, a radio show host, a carpenter, a lawyer, a winemaker, or a math professor?” What about someone who’s obsessed with snakes and keeps caged rattlesnakes in his studio apartment, someone who has a two year-old child, or someone from another country who lives here on a work visa? (These are not random hypotheticals. I’ve been out with each of these men.) And then you picture yourself in this scenario and ponder, “Is this life for me?” and “Is this what I want?” And, of course, these men are most likely asking themselves the same questions about you.

Getting ready to go out dancing at 24 years old

I’ve been through the dating trenches and have emerged with a wealth of experience. I’m grateful for this opportunity because it has allowed me to imagine a myriad of possible futures, somewhat like the “Choose Your Own Adventure” books I enjoyed as a kid. The past few months, however, I’ve been taking a break from looking for love in order to allow myself time to reset. When I start dating again, I’m aiming to approach it more like I would've as a 24 year old, rather than the 34 year old that I am.

Whether you’re happily married or looking for love, if you’re like me and find yourself holding auditions for your future, I encourage you to join me and make a pledge to live more in the present and seek joy now rather than planning for future happiness. And who knows, we might just find long-term contentment where and when we least expect it.

Braised Red Cabbage with Apple

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays because it fuses everything that I love into one day: food, friends, and family. It’s about being in the moment and savoring the experience of breaking bread with those that you love. It also reminds us to be grateful for the many blessings that we already have in our lives. On Thanksgiving, rather than pondering my future, my mind will be filled with thoughts of turkey, potatoes, and braised red cabbage. What joy!

This is a good dish for holiday meals. It pairs well with roasted poultry (and for a quick weeknight meal, serve leftovers with German sausage). I especially like how easy it is. Once everything is chopped and in the pot, it needs very little attention, so you’ll be free to do other things.

Serves 4-6

1 tbs. olive oil
1 red onion, sliced (2 cups)
1 tsp. sea salt
1 head of red cabbage (2 lbs.), cored and roughly chopped into 2-in pieces
2 lg. firm apples (1 lb.) such as braeburn or fuji, peeled, cored, and thinly sliced
½ cup apple cider vinegar

In a heavy-bottomed 5-quart pot over medium, cook the onion with the olive oil and salt until the onions are soft and translucent. When I’m cooking, I like to have one thing cooking while I prepare the next. So, while you’re sautéing the onions, chop the cabbage and peel and slice the apples. Add the cabbage and apples along with the cider vinegar to the pot, stir. Cover and slow-cook on medium-low for about an hour and a half. Stir occasionally to make sure it doesn’t stick to the bottom of the pan. Cook until the cabbage is soft and tender.

The Gospel of “Should”

A boyfriend and I once got in a fight over the word “should.” It’s made up of just six innocuous letters, but when they’re strung together into a word, they create a limiting way of approaching the world. But I didn’t realize that then.

At the time of the argument, I was living on a rather remote peninsula on the coast of Maine and teaching French at a small boarding school. This was my first job and as a young teacher (only a few years older than my students) and a natural rule follower, I was keen to do everything just right and present myself in just the right way. I was the queen of “should” and “shouldn’t”… I should act a certain way. I shouldn’t do that.

Walking toward the school dining room for dinner, the nerves welled up inside of me at the thought of introducing Aidan—my boyfriend who was visiting from California—to my students. As we skirted the edge of the quad, he put his arm around me. It was a loving gesture, but it filled me with trepidation. I told him we shouldn’t do that in view of the students. Gently, I removed his arm and we stepped into the community dining room separately.

Aidan with his arm around me

Aidan was not a man who followed the gospel of “should.” At the time, I didn’t understand why he was angry and why he couldn’t understand my point of view. I lived in a small community of students and colleagues, and it was expected that we behave in a certain way. In my head I carried a list of “shoulds” and “shouldn’ts” that seemingly helped me set a good example for my students. In hindsight, I wish I’d handled the situation with Aidan differently. It would have been nice to walk with his arm around me.

There are, of course, times when it’s important to do things simply because it’s the right thing. However, there are other times when we make pointless rules for ourselves just because we think it’s what’s expected of us. These rules often don’t allow for expansion, growth, or even fun. For instance, for a long time I wouldn’t let my pets get on my bed. I didn’t really have a good reason, but I felt like it was what I should do to maintain an orderly household. One night, however, I left the bedroom door open and the cats found their way into my bed. It was actually really nice to feel their warm bodies and hear their loud purring. The dog still doesn’t sleep in my bed, but I now ask her up most mornings. I enjoy our morning cuddles, and as it turns out, there isn’t a right or a wrong way to do things.

My cats slumbering on my bed

“Should” sometimes even finds its way into parts of my life where I would least expect it. To wind down in the evening, I play a word game on the Kindle. For many months I toiled endlessly in my quest for the highest level. Sometimes I would work on one level for days and days, just so I wouldn’t have to forfeit. I’d thought that was what I should do. Then suddenly it hit me…I’m playing this game for fun. There will be no prize at the end and no one else will care if I make it to level 10. The only thing I should do is enjoy the experience of playing the game. At that moment, I stopped agonizing about advancing and instead forfeited whenever I was stumped.

Living a life of “should” and “shouldn’t” can be restrictive. It can also keep joy at bay. I’m still a recovering Queen of Should, but I’m getting better one step at a time. Moving past “should” and embracing “fun” can be liberating and can also open up a world of possibilities still yet to be explored.

 

Apple Custard Cake 

As I was thinking about what recipe to include, I immediately thought, “I should write a Thanksgiving recipe,” but I realized that what I really wanted to do was share this recipe for Apple Custard Cake. Recently my kitchen seems to be overflowing with apples, and I’ve been cooking them into this delicious skillet cake as often as I can. The following recipe happens to be gluten and dairy free, but you’d never know it. It serves eight, but I’ve been known to eat half a pan in one sitting.

Serves 8

2½ lbs. (6 or 7 apples) firm apples like Braeburn or Fuji
2 tsp. vegetable shortening
½ tsp. cinnamon
¼ tsp. freshly grated nutmeg
1 tsp. lemon zest
1 tbs. brandy
1/3 cup granulated sugar
½ cup brown rice flour
1 13-oz can coconut milk (about 1½ cups)
4 eggs

lemon juice
powdered sugar

Preheat the oven to 400ºF. Peel, core, and slice the apples. I use an apple slicer/corer and then slice each piece again with a knife to make about 16 slices per apple. Meanwhile, melt the vegetable shortening in a well-seasoned cast iron skillet over medium heat. When the shortening is starting to sizzle, add the apples and sauté. Sprinkle the cinnamon, nutmeg, and lemon zest over the apples and stir to combine. Add the brandy and continue to sauté, stirring frequently. You want the apples to be soft but not browned or mushy.

As the apples cook, combine the sugar and brown rice flour in a medium bowl. Mix the coconut milk and eggs with the sugar and flour and stir until you have a smooth batter. Since rice flour doesn’t contain gluten, you can stir the batter as much as you want and it won’t make a tough pastry. When the apples are soft, turn off the burner. Pour the batter over the apples and place the skillet in the oven. Bake until golden brown and puffy, about 40 minutes. Serve warm with a sprinkle of powdered sugar and a squeeze of fresh lemon juice.