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Tigress’ Can Jam | Ashley’s Outstanding Rhubarb Chutney (May)

april & may tcj are fighting for my heart

What can I say, but thank you.  Ashley, thank you.  Loving this recipe.  Loving my Rhubarb & Amaretto Chutney.  I didn’t even do anything to it. (♥:Do I know you????)

I get all giddy when I learn a thing or five.  This month in canning has been really cool.  Hello, this is so not a late Friday night post.  Again.  Yay!  I planned, experimented and didn’t rush.  I might have to apply that to the rest of my…

Okay.  So, I still haven’t found a locally grown source for the barb.  I kinda stopped looking for it after I found it at the downtown Ralphs.  *Bad Nikki Shrug*  I’m keeping an eye out, though.

I wanted to try something different from last week’s tasty jam.  Since most of the other canning titles on the shelf went sweet, I was excitedly hoping that Canning & Preserving with Ashley English would surprise me with something I couldn’t pass up.  HELLOOOOOO, Rhubarb and Amaretto Chutney.  I mean, really.  HELLOOOO.

As I looked over the ingredients, I saw a long overdue trip in the making.  Coriander and cumin were already on my list to get from the South Asian grocery in the neighborhood.  I’d scouted out the place before, but hadn’t put the card on the counter to pay.

It’s like spice nirvana in there.  Freakish price and quantity difference from conventional stores.  I picked up a few other things that just might find their way into a new take on Market.Watch.

Can we talk about the big bottle of amaretto I’ve got in the cabinet now?  See, that’s what I get for not reading the entire recipe.  I was way too excited to grab the straw shopping basket Mom got me and go all euro with my multiple stops that I didn’t see that I could have just replaced the alcohol with orange juice.

It’s not that I don’t drink.  A bottle of wine usually won’t make it ’til morning.  I just don’t know what to do with the makings of a little bar.  Cute, I guess.  But it means I’ll need to get some friends to hang out with the soju and amaretto.  Right?

Rhubarb and Amaretto Chutney
barely, yet adoringly adapted from Canning & Preserving with Ashley English

cheesecloth or a muslin tea bag
3 cardamom pods
1/2 teaspoon whole cumin seed
1/2 teaspoon whole cloves
1/2 teaspoon whole yellow mustard seed
1 teaspoon black peppercorns
1 teaspoon whole coriander seed
1/2 cinnamon stick
2 1/2 c rhubarb, chopped
2 c brown sugar
1 1/4 c sweet onions, chopped
1/2 c seedless raisins
2 cloves garlic, mince
1 1/2 teaspoons ginger, minced
1 1/2 c apple cider vinegar
1/4 c amaretto
1 tablespoon lemon zest
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1 1/2 teaspoons yellow mustard seed
3/4 teaspoon pickling or kosher salt

Make a spice pouch from a small the cheesecloth or muslin square.  Add the cardamom pods, whole cumin, coriander, cloves, mustard seeds, black peppercorns and cinnamon to the cheesecloth.  Secure the bundle with kitchen twine.

Add the spices, brown sugar, rhubarb, onions, raisins, garlic, ginger, and vinegar to sauce pan.  Bring to a gentle boil.  Cook over medium heat, uncovered for 30 min.  Add amaretto, lemon zest, ground cinnamon, ground cloves, mustard seeds and salt.  Simmer for 30 more minutes.  Stir, stir, stir.  Ashley suggests adding a bit more water to the chutney if it begins to stick to the pot.  1/8 cup to start.

Prep and sterilize jars and lids.  Fill jars and water bath process for 10 minutes.

NikkiBits: While this is pretty much halved, where it isn’t I chose over in the over/under debate in my head.  This yields 2 .25L or 1/2 pint jars with some extra for the fridge.   I had a bit with some fish and cous cous I threw together with a bit of curry, broccoli, coconut milk and Matouk’s.  OMFrigginG.

What’s Next: Awww, man.  I can’t wait to get more/better priced rhubarb.  This really kicks.  I so want to make it to give to friends and my fave librarian. (♥:Save LAPL!)

I think I might be glad that I didn’t really like the rhubarb pie I had that summer in Canada forever ago.  I wonder if I’d appreciate the journey to the savory and sweet.
Nikki♥

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TCJ | Oh, My! It’s May

getting back into the swing of things. putting spoon to mouth.

I’ve been last minuting things a lot lately.  I didn’t want to do it for May’s edition of Tigress’ Can Jam.  I wanted to be able to take my time.  Experiment a little.  You know, breathe.

Glad I did.  The Barb was all I could see when I read Sarah’s post announcing May’s special guest star(s). Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Asparagus and Rhubarb.

I thought this would be the best opportunity to rewrite a childhood memory.  It was summer.  Montréal.  Someone offered/forced Rhubarb pie.  I didn’t understand.  It looked like red celery.  Celery + Pie = Nah, not really.  It never had the chance to be good, let alone great.

Off I went on my red stalk adventure.  Why did it take a week and numerous attempts to get my hands on freaking Rhubarb?!!!!?  See, I don’t even know how local it is.  I got it from Ralphs.  The Ralphs that kinda wants to be a Whole Foods.

Yes, it’s early.  I’m still not sure which is going to star in the R&C: TCJ Show next week.  I do know that I like the barb in my berry barb jam.  Really, I like it lots.

This was just one of those throw it in the pot things.  Based loosely on Anne V. Nelson, again.  Strawberry Rhubarb Jam with a bit of my new obsession to Nikki-fy it. (♥:Nothing compares to you, Blackberries.)

Back to work.  What should I do now, more barb or a bit of the gus?  Have you decided which will get your full attention?  Will you be ambitious and do both?

Nikki♥

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Tigress’ Can Jam | Mighty BerryMinty Jelly (April)

yummm… i think i’ve fallen in love again.

You know I’ve been kind of freakish for months over tangelos.  That really hasn’t changed, but blackberries have come a little tardy to the party and taken over. (♥: Did you just say tardy for the party? *sigh*) I love that they’re tart and dark and just IT!

Ummm, hello.  This is about TCJ.  Okay, right.  Sorry.  So this month is all about Herbs for Tigress’ Can Jam.  My herbs of choice seem to be cilantro, mint and tarragon.  Mint was the first thing to pop into my head.  Well, after tarragon, but I used tarragon last month in my, now gone, Pretty Pickled Pearls.  (♥:They were GOOD!)

Initially, I was going to do something with mint, ginger and lemon.  That whole herbs = no pectin thing kinda shut that down.  I’m wary of using commercial pectin right now because I want to learn as much as I can about natural occurring pectin.  Like which fruits are high and which are low.  This wasn’t the week to experiment with a recipe and making my own apple pectin.  Especially, since I seem to be stuck in last day post mode.

I happened upon some lonely blackberries that had just been saving themselves for yesterday in the back of the freezer.  Lightbulbs and stars started flickering in my head.  Hello, Mighty BerryMinty Jelly.

I didn’t really adapt the recipe from anywhere, but Anne V. Nelson’s The New Preserves and the 2006 edition of Irma Rombauer’s Joy of Cooking get “chock full of info” honorable mentions.

Mighty BerryMinty Jelly

2 c blackberries
1 c mint
1 c water
1 1/2 c – 2 c of sugar
1 tablespoon commercial lemon juice

Wash/clean blackberries and mint.  Steep mint in one cup of boiling water overnight.  Strain mint and discard solids.  Add blackberries and minty water to saucepan.  Bring to a boil.  Cook for 5-10 minutes smashing berries to get all that juice.  Strain berryminty juice using jelly bag/lined colander.  For clearer jelly, don’t force the straining.  Just give it time.  Lots of time.

When done, measure liquid.  Add lemon juice.  For every cup of liquid add 3/4 cups of sugar.  Bring to a boil.  Stir.  Stir.  Stir.  When it reaches the jell point, add to 2 sterilized .25L or 1/2 pint jars.  Process for 5 minutes.

The NikkiBits: This is minty.  Not overly so, for me, but minty nonetheless.  It’s the most beautiful purple.  I’m in love.  Seriously.  Marmalade, see you next year.  Strawberry Jam, eh.  It’s BerryMinty Jelly For Ever.  If I had an ice cream maker, all would be lost.

What’s Next: I’m making this again.  Like tonight.  I picked up more berries at the farmers’ market and I’m off to the get mint.  The batch above was a little loose, I’m going to steep with less water.  The Joy adds no water at all.  Anne adds less water for many more berries.  We’ll see.  I love that Carter made a simple syrup with her mint.  I might try that, too.

I just realized my TCJ selections seem to be color coordinated with my apt.  January, Blood Orange Marm.  Feb, Baby Carrots.  March, Pearl Onions.  April, Blackberry Mint.  Really, the colors in my apt are red, orange, purple, green, and white.  Add blue, pink and yellow/gold and it’s officially matchy-matchy.

Gotta go.  Must buy mint.

Nikki

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Market.Watch | 4April10

finally.

just scallions and navel oranges this trip

I know it doesn’t look like much.  Heck, it looks like what I always get.  Really, it was a big deal.  I finally made it to the Hollywood Farmers’ Market this morning.

Leaving the house in the morning on a Sunday, any old Sunday, is big for me.  I just don’t do it.  I’m usually up til the wee hours refusing to let go of Saturday night.  Oh, Sweet Sunday, seems to always get the short end of the weekend stick.

Today was fun.  I got to take it all in with my friend and her six year old niece.  I was so busy seeing everything with Angel’s eyes that I actually didn’t buy much.  She was so excited to taste everything.  Even after the black olive debacle, she was back asking if she could have what was on offer.  She was adorable running around in her playful Easter dress demanding something extra special from the balloon guy.

So, while Angel and her Auntie M were actually getting oranges, greens, herbs, bagels and nuts, I just got some navel oranges.  And because Angel’s really not that into onions of any sort, I was on the receiving end of half a bunch.

I’ll be back next week.  If not to do most of my shopping, then definitely to people watch.  Loved it.

Nikki♥

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Bye, Bye Birdie | VSK:Simple Stock

i knew it was coming.  you should have, too.

I’m back off the bird. (♥: Ummm, okay.)

I bought a whole chicken the other day and my stomach just started to turn as soon as I got it home.  I think it might have been looking at those little legs all trussed up.  I ate it, but with a heavy heart and closed eyes.  The next morning, I threw what was left of the new bird and the frozen bones of the last one in the trash.

I love the taste of a homemade chicken stock.  My word, it is amazing.  The drippings from a freshly roasted… Mmmm.  I might even miss it at some point, but the process is really not something I’m feeling right now.  Flesh and bone.  Bleech. 

Time to create a chicken-free stock arsenal.

I picked up Bryant Terry‘s Vegan Soul Kitchen a while ago.  I can’t believe that this is the first time I’m actually cooking from it.  Especially, since my brother and I had a bit of a row over the premise.  He thought that by making it vegan, you take the soul out of it.  Love him, hardcore, but he is WRONG.  That kind of thinking keeps our arteries clogged and “Tha Shuga” running/ruining the show.

Its sad that the resistance to change is on both sides and isn’t new.  The idea of making food that is familiar, but healthier caused a bit of a dust-up with a macro friend.   He’s from South and grew up on some goooood food, but he believes that to eat healthier, folks should just dump everything they know and eat tree/sea bark.  Verbatim, no.  Sentiment, mmmm hmmm.  We keep people isolated by not giving them options and opportunities for making better choices.

I’ll admit that I am opinionated.  I used to be such a label whore that I branded everything I didn’t eat evil.  Thankfully, I’m over that.  I do remain steadfast in the belief that we need to eat better.   The things is… we don’t all have to be vegan or vegetarian.  Or eat tofu and tempeh.  But, we can do simple things to expand our palates and imaginations.

Simple Stock
from Bryant Terry’s Vegan Soul Kitchen

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
2 large onions, quartered with skin
1 large carrot, thinly sliced
4 celery ribs, thinly sliced
8 oz button mushrooms, sliced
1 whole garlic bulb, unpeeled, broken up, flatten w/back of a knife
2 bay leaves
3 sprigs of fresh thyme
1/2 teaspoon course sea salt
1/8 teaspoon of cayenne
9 cups of water

Over med-high heat, warm the olive oil.  Add herbs, spices and vegetables.  Sauté until veggies have softened.  Add water.  Bring it to a boil.  Reduce heat to med-low.  Simmer uncovered for about an hour.  Strain vegetables from stock.  Don’t forget to press down on the veggies to get all that goodness out.  Then, discard the cooked vegetables.  Yields 1 1/2 quarts.

The Nikki Bits: I added a couple of dried chili peppers as well.  My veggies weren’t super tender after an hour.  I let it cook for another 30 or so minutes.  And I added 2 more cups of water.

Ummmm… So: I liked it a lot.  I didn’t expect to mimic chicken broth, so I wasn’t disappointed.  I don’t know if it’s a catchall stock for me, though.  Even though it’s light, it feels hearty, woodsy and strong.  It might overpower the flavors that I normally work with.

I had a cup with a few of spoonfuls of brown rice and a smidge of sriracha.  Throw in some veggies, steamed/roasted/whatever.  Hello, Winter!  It’s , also, a GREAT base for gravy.

What’s next: I make this black bean & couscous dish that I rock with that chicken water.  It didn’t really work well with this stock, but Bryant has a garlic broth that might be PERFECTION for that dish.  Arsenal.

I don’t begrudge anyone, or myself, meat or poultry.  I’m just bored and a bit turned off, right now.  That could change.  I’m superexcited to focus on bringing an abundance of flavor, color and texture onto my plate.

Nikki♥

Oh, I just finished some turkey breast that was in the freezer.  Ummm.  Bye, bye Bigger Bird.

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Tigress’ Can Jam (March) | Pretty Pickled Pearls

ummm, another low acid veg.  i had to do more.  i just did.

Well, I did more.  And I did less.  I thought it was time to do a tinybatch of a recipe I kinda liked to see if I could tweak it a bit. (♥:a bit?) Fine, a lot.  I wanted a recipe where I could manipulate the flavors, but leave the math.

Georgeanne Brennan’s The Glass Pantry was the first book on preserving that I bought a year or so ago.  Sure, Amazon had it for the right price.  It was, also, the first book I was able to get my hands on from the library.  You know I need to live with cook/craft books before I buy them, right?

I’ve flipped through all of the preserving and canning books in the arsenal and found that there were a couple of different versions of these pickled pearls.  It was Georgeanne’s math that made it easier for me to convert.

I’ve been really into cornichon for a while.  It probably is my favorite type of pickle.  I, only recently, found out that it’s the tarragon that gets me all excited.  So, I just had to see what it would do to those pretty pearls.

Pickled Whole Onions
adapted from Georgeanne Brennan’s The Glass Pantry

1 c pearl onions
1/4 c water
3/4 c white wine vinegar
1 teaspoon kosher/pickling salt
2 garlic cloves
1 sprig of fresh tarragon
2 dried red peppers
6 black peppercorns

The Nikki Bits: I kept the vinegar/water ratio, but I changed the entire flavor profile.

The Making: Simple enough.  Wash and sterilize 1 half pint/1 quarter liter Weck jar in the water bath.  Uggghhh, peel the onions.  (♥: Blanching them makes it easier.) Add onions and spices into the jar.  Bring vinegar, salt, and water to a boil.  Cover the onions with the liquid, leaving head space.  Wipe rim.  Place seal and top.  Screw closed or add clamps.  Using jar lifter, place jars into water bath.  Return the water to a boil.  Process for 10 minutes.

What’s Next: I’m getting good at waiting.  Kinda proud of myself.  And, HELLO, getting better at documenting the process.  And must order Ashley‘s book.  Wow, I’ve got to right everything down.

Okay, I’m off to make a bit of roasted leek & garlic confit.  Mmmmm.

Nikki♥

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CurseWorthy Cooking | That Mystery Marmalade

i still don’t remember.

Keeping track of my kitchen adventures has always felt like it took the fun out of cooking.  Well, now, it really has come back to bite me.

I made a peanut butter and spiced citrus marm sandwich.  I got so excited and angry to the point of letting the expletives fly mid-bite.  It was ecstasy in my mouth and I still don’t know how to get it back again.

It had such a simple light nuanced flavor.  It’s even mellowed in the last few weeks.  There’s only a bit of cardamom kick that hints at what else is in there.  I remember most of the ingredients, but not the amounts and definitely not the process.  I, unintentionally, did some quirky stuff.

I really want that marm back.  I’ve said it before, now I mean it.  Experiments and escapades must be recorded.  I’m a pen to paper kinda gal.  I’m deciding between Rhodia and Moleskine to capture the magic.

I’ve got one jar of the mystery marm left.  And I’ve got 8 months to figure this out.

Nikki♥

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Market.Watch | 12Mar10 & The Slam Reax

leeks, onions, meyer lemons, blood oranges


Ummm, I still don’t know what I want to do for Tigress’ Can Jam.  So, it looks like I’m just going to have to find some more allium options and hit the books.  I’ll be fine.

It’s been an odd week.  I read Slate’s ‘Canning is Trendy‘ article.  I read the The Atlantic’s ‘CSAs: A ripoff?’ article, too.  I don’t have a problem saying that I think some of the questions they ask are valid.  I think the tone in which both articles are framed is dismissive and patronizing, though.  I just think it fosters a discussion where everyone is defensive.

The thing is neither article annoyed me.  I just thought they both missed the point.  When it comes to CSAs, farmers’ market produce, or dairy products from small farms, I don’t expect the prices to compete with conventional grocery stores.  That’s not why I seek them out.  That’s not why I come back every week or still shop at the superchains.  Does an article bemoaning the price help me define why and where I choose to spend my money?  Yep.  Non-issue.

The Slate article got under my skin, primarily, because it hurt the feelings of people I’ve come to respect, who felt attacked for practicing the traditions they hold dear.  I had less of a problem because I kind of knew who she was talking to and about.  It didn’t bother me, personally, because I’ve come to really enjoy doing it.  Period. Whatever.

She can condescend, if she chooses.  That’s her.  I know how it felt to make that first jar of strawberry jam last spring.  I know what its been like to be a part of TCJ.  I ask myself about salt and sugar intake.  I pay attention to what’s local and abundant.  I don’t find it tedious.  I’m learning a little patience.  I’ll be standing with my basket ready when my gardening friends start to harvest the fruits of their labor.

I think what’s starting to rub me the wrong way is this push back on those of us not in rural areas or who haven’t been canning for time.  Yes, there are new fresh books with their take on tradition.  I’m not rushing out to buy them just because the cover rocks.  Yes, there’s more attention on the practice.  Yes, I like those cute jars.  So what.  If I’m canning for the next week or the rest of my life, it shouldn’t have any bearing on what anyone else is doing.

Let’s pass the knowledge amongst ourselves.  Share with whomever may be interested.  I’m here soaking up your advice and wisdom.  Please, share in my excitement.

Nikki♥

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Awww. Thx, Wednesday!

taking the time to make note of a few things that make the days extra sweet.

Do you ever smile at the clouds?  I can’t help but be amazed by the beauty of the sky.

Apparently, I’m in hyper-adoration mode for tangelos and Sandra Juto… The comments on her wrist worm giveaway remind me how small the world is and how great the internet is at connecting people.  It’s just everyone listing their favorite movies.  It warms my heart a little when someone else talks about how much they love Me and You and Everyone We Know, Before Sunset, Strictly Ballroom and all things Almodovar.

Esthero… One of my favorite singers, ever ever, posted a song that leaves me with a tear stained face.  There’s such beauty in its simplicity.  Black Mermaid stirred something.  It not only made me happy,  but it moved me to use those moments, so easily wasted, doing what I’m here to do.

Nikole Herriot, of Forty-sixth at Grace, makes and photographs such beautiful cakes.  I want to make more cakes.  I want to make lots of pretty cakes.  I want to forage for antique bundt tins.  (♥: Okay, breathe.) Innnnnn.  Ouuuuuuuttttt. Thx. I needed that.

Still working on booking a trip to visit relatives while the William Eggleston exhibition is at the Art Institute of Chicago.  I don’t really own a coat.  So, I just need it to be, you know, warmer.

Uh-oh!  I can get a bit of stellar photog right here in Beverly Hills.  Gursky at the Gagosian opened last week.  Sweet!

Counting the days… The Art of the Steal opens this weekend here in LA.  It looks like I’m about to get on an emotional roller coaster.  Dr. Barnes and his collection changed the way I see and appreciate art.

Ahhh, the art of making me happy.  It’s a challenging craft that I’m learning to practice every single day.

Nikki♥

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Evolution of a Relationship | Food

it’s complicated.  and thankfully, it keeps changing.

Sometimes, I don’t know if it was just a story my father liked to tell or if I really remember it happening.  Either way, it informed how I thought and, in some ways, think about food.

The seeds plant themselves early…

As we crossed the tarmac to climb the stairs to the plane, I broke free from the hand that was holding mine.  I ran as fast as my legs would take me back the way we came.  We were flying to Panama.  Away from everyone and everything I knew.  I cried myself to sleep after my failed escape from the biggest thing I’d ever seen and woke up to a new horror.  They said he ate my dinner.  My brother kept proving himself to be my enemy.  I was pissed.  And, I was two.

My dad had a bunch of “Nikki in Panama” stories he liked to tell.  The one where he forgot to make sure the door was closed and came back to find me climbing down the stairs backwards.  Or that I called waves “Oobies.”  He thought that Kourtney eating my dinner was just another funny story.  In my head, as a kid, it set up the recurring idea of being deprived.  That I had to eat what I wanted or it wouldn’t be there.

Separation makes the brain grow fonder or Sorry, we don’t eat that anymore…

It was the 70s.  Daddy read that book and there you have it.  We went veg as a family.  Here’s the hard part.  You tell regular folks, black or white, in the 70s about being vegetarian or shunning processed food and they’d look at you like you’d lost your mind.  Neither side of our family really knew how to take it or deal with it.

Mom says Daddy went through the house throwing food away.  Replacing it with the “healthier” alternatives.  It was a shock to her, but she went with it.  And stayed with it after they divorced.

We were more pan-africanist “crunchy-granola” than hippie “crunchy-granola” living in grad school housing.  I loved going to the health food store.  Bulk bins!  And  getting loose tea from Smile to make sachets in wax print fabric. (♥: Awww, crafty from way back.)

I♥how I was raised, hardcore.  And had a lot of fun as a kid.  We had amazing food that I’m still trying to recreate.  But, with the divorce and two very different households, there was a lot of change for us to adjust to.  Oh, yeah, and Daddy went back to meat.

We got conflicting food messages from all over the place.  From school, TV, friends and relatives.  It was one more obvious way we were different.  Being “veg” only meant that I couldn’t have.  It wasn’t about the benefits or making better choices or having good eating habits.  I saw it and lived it as, ummm, no.  We weren’t even that strict.  There was definitely no red or other white meat in the house, but we had chicken and fish fairly regularly.

They were trying to do what they thought best or Have you met Little Me?…

So let’s go back to the pouty, petulant toddler on the plane.  I should tell you what my mom told me last week.  That I was willful from birth.  Okay, she said the crib.  Same thing.  Power trippin’ in a onesie.

I found ways to act out every day.  From eating the sloppy joe school lunch or allowing folks to feed me ribs and things knowing how my mother felt.  Even name brand peanut butter and jelly on white bread washed down with kool-aid felt like I was getting in a good jab.

Willful Little Me would sneak food.  I wanted what I wanted when I wanted it.  Partly, because I felt like it wouldn’t be there if I waited.  But, that was, also, just who I was.  A bit spoiled and entitled.  All those things my friends and relatives got to eat became things I longed for and found ways to get.

We weren’t allowed to have breakfast crack brought to you by cartoon characters and toy prizes.  Mom gave us granola and Grape-Nuts.  My dad would buy whatever cereal we wanted when we spent the weekend with him.  That box was ghost by Saturday afternoon.  My brother was a “growing boy” and I worked the guilt.  We, okay, I figured out how to manipulate the situation very early.  It just was never enough.

It gets complicated after that or We’re skipping the tween and teen years…

I think it’s simplistic to say that control and the lack of it set up a pattern of deprivation and overindulgence, but it’s key to understanding how I look at things today.

As an adult, I’ve been veg and vegan by choice.  I’ve done Atkins and I’ve done nothing.  I’ve overeaten and I’ve not eaten.  I got off on telling folks what I couldn’t/wouldn’t eat like it was a sign of courage and strong will.  It became how I related to people.  How we related to each other.  The conversations we had.  It’s like we all needed that gold star for putting all the power in no, can’t, don’t and won’t.

The crazy part is that whenever I went off-label, regime or binged, everything I thought I was missing and really, really wanted, couldn’t live up to the internal hype.  My Bye-Bye VeganLife meal was a Cuban Sandwich and Mexican-style Corn from Café Habana and a cupcake from Magnolia.  They were fine.  It was the pressure I put on myself to live confined rather than balanced, that had expectations frequently met with disappointment.

A work in progress or How I don’t eat shame with that burger…

I choose to live a way that’s become pretty straightforward.  I eat what I want.  I eat better.  I eat less.  And I move more.  What I want is informed by the little discoveries over the years.  How amazing and naturally sweet fruit and vegetables can be.  That I don’t really like fast food.  That Meat and I have a love/bored relationship.  That Ben, Jerry and I will survive not being Besties.  That making kick-ass food is just as fun as eating it.

I really don’t think about what I don’t eat.  It’s usually because I don’t like it, not because “I can’t have it.”  My conversations about food are from a place of excitement and wonder, not fear and anger.  I don’t feel guilt or shame.  It’s a set up.

There are things that concern me.  Like, wow, there’s a lot of sugar in marmalade making.  How do I balance experimentation with consumption?  What sugar is better?  Do I take a break?  There’s no hand smacking bad Nikki going on.

I still struggle with bouts of not eating.  Or not eating “right.”  I’m not chasing some ideal.  I, really, forget to eat.  Hopped up on coffee, with my brain reeling, I have time to make tricked out ramen before I get cranky.

I’m learning to be patient.  Sooo new for me.  I’m starting to plan meals.  Because the only way the food won’t be in my fridge is if I let it rot.

It’s all a process.  I’m happier not worrying about food all the time.  It took all the fun out of eating.  And cooking.  Have you ever just contemplated the flavors in a spoonful and allowed yourself to be blown away?  That is some goodness.

This relationship with food is growing and changing.  I’m feeling empowered to make better decisions.  Finding balance and treating myself a lot better.  I like that.

Nikki♥