Hey, Slim!

This is really not quite working out as planned.

What was the plan? Brilliant wishful thinking: upon our return to the States we will be visiting places like SF (where they have healthy-ish restaurant food), *I* will have control over our meals because I'm cooking, and we'll have access to great produce...all of which adds up to eating healthier and getting slim after 20 duck-fat-infused months in HK.

Eh, not quite.

The trouble started long before the nut butter. But let's talk about the nut butter... E's friend S-- has a little side business with an 80-something-year-old friend making two products, an outrageous pecan-almond-everything nut butter and an equally decadent dried cherry and sesame-encrusted cashew granola. They've discovered that if you mix the two products together the result is more addictive than heroin. The dopamine hit just from the texture alone, let alone the taste...well, let's just say the jar that S-- brought up up to Maine was quickly dispatched with a spoon.



Before the nut butter there were many other dangerous things, but this one bares mentioning: fresh strawberry ice cream at Coquina in Ashland, Oregon. We'll eat fresh produce and get skinny, eh? What about if someone takes beautiful fresh berries and wraps them in all of their bright sweetness, into fresh cream and produces a stunning little ball of pink frozen goodness that tastes so dramatically different from those old strawberry-jam-flavored ice creams of the past...I mean, how could I resist? I don't even like ice cream (very much -- seriously!).



Ok, and then I discovered Patricia Wells's book Trattoria, which is totally amazing. It's like a crib list of all the magic tricks of simple Italian cooking. Last night: chicken with onions and red peppers. Imagine laquered, luxuriant ribbons of pepper and onions almost like filo dough layers and a broth infused with fresh herbs and chicken fat of course. And we had it over buttered-bowties, because were we going to waste the sauce? Remember, this was the part where *I* would have control because *I* was cooking? Ha!

If slimness is the goal, clearly we need a better plan. Except, we don't really want one.

Connected

The sensual highlight of my trip to Oregon and California recently was this: Standing very close to a beautiful tall pine tree just off of Ridge Road in Ashland, Oregon and breathing in the faint scent of vanilla emanating from its bark.

It was wonderful and delicious and intimate. In that moment I was briefly stunned by my vulnerability, my unthinking faith in the goodwill of nature. Even as we engineer the world to be as efficient as possible for our uses, we count on plants and animals to express their essential nature in a forthright and healthy way. Trees continue wanting to be straight and strong even as we harvest them for lumber; animals continue wanting to be fat and happy, even as we raise them for meat.

At my parents’ house we say a non-religious grace:

Earth who gives to us this food,

Sun who makes it ripe and good,

Dear Earth,

Dear Sun,

By you we live. To you our loving thanks we give.

I have said this grace for *years* and thought about what it meant too, but never have I really gotten it like that.

(My mom’s beautiful glossy green Meyer lemon tree waiting to ripen, on the patio with her herbs)

Five and a half consecutive months in Hong Kong shifted my perspective on the world. All food and water is shipped or flown in. Everything of value is monetized. Financial interests are intertwined with every other type of human impulse. Having gradually adjusted my expectations to this, I found myself most moved by the sense of connection to the world and other people that I experienced through food during my visit. For example…

One night for dinner at my parents’ house I made chicken breasts with sage, lemon, olive oil, and butter over a lemon risotto that was seasoned with fresh thyme and rosemary from my mom’s garden. The flavor of the herbs was truly marvelous. It was an amazing sort of collaboration of growing and cooking; and making something for my parents that actually tasted good made *me* feel good.

(The table at G’s house before our Thanksgiving feast)

In San Francisco I was then treated to a wonderful Thanksgiving in July, prepared by my friend G--. Roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, green salad, beets, and goat cheese, followed by strawberry shortcake. Hooray! But it’s not just G--'s generosity in providing such a beautiful spread. She uses the highest quality ingredients and customizes truly yummy dishes to the diets of everyone who comes so that we all have a good time (e.g., gluten-free stuffing, mashed potatoes with goat’s milk). Anticipating the meal, my friend B—enthused, “I love how you cook.” I do too. When you eat at G--'s house you feel truly cared for.

(A Café Gratitude dessert, courtesy of the raw seed blog)

And then, some of you will guffaw, but B—and I made our regular pilgrimage to Café Gratitude for exquisite raw vegan desserts and…well, for some attitude. After months of HK “service,” where waiters focus solely on delivering food, collecting cash, and turning tables, it was mind-blowing to get full on eye-contact, a sincere, warm smile, and a “question of the day” from our Gratitude server: What do you love about the world?

I love that the world is vast and mysterious. I love that we can travel *together* through the world – and life – even though our experiences are so radically different.