Quick Chocolate Pudding

Recipe #8: p. 264, Quick Chocolate Pudding, Grace Whitehead, Kokomo, Indiana

sugar or honey
cornstarch
cocoa
milk
vanilla
margarine (optional)

"After being diagnosed with cancer, Doris started keeping a journal. Some of the entries addressed the writing of Living More with Less, and her frustration with how her illness prevented her from working on the manuscript."

"Journal Entry—November 4, 1979 (written from Hershey Medical center)
I so much want to complete this book, one of the creative works of my life. But weighed in the balance against more time with Paul, Cara, and Marta, (husband and daughters) the book is like a dry dandelion ready to blow. But I shouldn't have to make such choices. If I get well enough to work on the book I will have time with my family."

 "Doris died quietly, peaceably, and surrounded by family on November 10, 1979, the manuscript not yet completed.
But the unfinished manuscript itself may be symbolic. The task of living responsible is never finished. In her preface to the More-with-Less Cookbook Doris describes the search for more responsible eating as a "kind of holy frustration." This holy frustration for more-with-less living needs to continue in our households, travel, recreation, and church life."
http://www.heraldpress.com/Bios/Longacre/journal.html 

Doris kept a list of things she felt were the frivolities of life—things one should not let get in the way of the enjoyment of living.
Life is too short to ice cakes; cakes are good without icing.
Life is too short to read all the church periodicals.
Life is too short not to write regularly to your parents.
Life is too short to eat factory baked bread.
Life is too short to keep all your floors shiny.
Life is too short to let a day pass without hugging your spouse and each of your children.
Life is too short to nurse grudges and hurt feelings.
Life is too short to worry about getting ready for Christmas; just let Christmas come.
Life is too short to spend much money on neckties and earrings.
Life is too short for nosy questions like "How do you like your new pastor?" Or—if there’s been a death—"How is he taking it?"
Life is too short to be gone from home more than a few nights a week.
Life is too short not to take a nap when you need one.
Life is too short to care whether purses match shoes or towels match bathrooms.
Life is too short to stay indoors when the trees turn color in fall, when it snows, or when the spring blossoms come out.
Life is too short to miss the call to worship on a Sunday morning.
Life is too short for bedspreads that are too fancy to sleep under.
Life is too short to work in a room without windows.
Life is too short to put off Bible study.
Life is too short to put off improving our relationships with the people we live with.
 http://www.heraldpress.com/Bios/Longacre/

If anyone is following my posts, you may have noticed that I skipped from Recipe #6 to Recipe #8.  I have already made Recipe #7, but this one feels more timely.

Today, my daughter turns three years old, and I made chocolate pudding for her birthday.  The recipe called for very few ingredients, and the instructions were very simple: Combine ingredients.  Cook.  Stir constantly unti thickened.

This sounded simple enough, and, in reality, it was.  I just did not have realistic expectations for how long it takes for pudding to thicken.

I really enjoy stirring pots of cooking food, and I always have.  I have fond memories of stirring pots of sauce or holiday foods when my family was cooking.

And the process of watching cornstarch turn powder and liquid materials into a thickened substance, was really quite intriguing for me.

But it took forty-five minutes of constant stirring for my Quick Chocolate Pudding to thicken.  Those were forty-five minutes that I could have been reading a book with my daughter, or tickling her, or telling her stories about her first three years of life.

While I agree with Longacre, that Americans in general overeat sugar and processed foods (More-with-Less p. 21), I also believe that she is correct when she says, "There is not just one way to respond, nor is there a single answer to the world's food problem.  It may not be within our capacity to effect an answer.  But it is within our capacity to search for a faithful response" (More-with-Less p. 13).

This search for a faithful response must also take into Longacre's list of Life is too short...

And for me, life might just be too short to make my own pudding in the future.

Quick Fruit Cobbler

Recipe #6: p. 273, Quick Fruit Cobbler--Jocele Meyer, Brooklyn, Ohio

sugar
flour
milk
baking powder

salt

"A dessert is (almost by definition) a food containing sugar.  But before getting into dessert recipes, let's remind ourselves that not all meals require a sweet ending.  The daily dessert habit is firmly entrenched in North America, but not with most other people.  In many countries sweets are used for celebrations only, not to top off everyday meals."  More-with-Less, p. 261

My son turned three about a week ago.  He loves food and eating, which is both helpful and difficult for me as a person with anorexia nervosa.

It can be difficult  when he gets down from breakfast and immediately asks about snack.  It can be difficult when I ask him what his favorite part of the day was and he names a food he ate. It can be difficult when it seems like so many of his thoughts revolve around food.

It can be helpful when I realize that he is learning to care for his needs and his body. It can be helpful when I realize that he shows as much joy and exuberance for food as for everything else in life.  It is helpful when I realize that so many of my thoughts also revolve around food, but at least his are about his enjoyment of eating.

So, when I asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday, "cake" was his response.  He also listed play with cars, and sing "Happy Birthday," but food was definitely part of his desire for his special day.

I used to believe that I could engage in a celebration with other people and not partake of the food.  It was my way of saying, "The food has nothing to do with my relationship with these people.  I can be a part of this relationship just as much as everybody else, regardless if I am eating with them.  My family and friends should love me for me, not for what I do or do not eat."

But over the past 10 years of therapy and recovery work that I have done, I have come to understand that my belief was false.  Eating a meal with someone is a way of sharing life with them, loving them, and letting them love me.


Of course, for food to be a healthy part of a relationship, people have to be healthy and mature enough to not use food as a way to guilt, manipulate, or shame themselves or each other.

My son's birthday offered an opportunity for me to choose a dessert to share with him to celebrate the day of his birth.  It also allowed me to support Longacre's view about the over-consumption of sugar and desserts in the U.S. by choosing a dessert that limits the amount of sugar and takes advantage of the natural sweetness of fruit.

I chose to use Granny Smith apples in the recipe, and it tasted pretty good.  The edges browned more quickly than the middle, so I did not cook it for as long as the recipe indicated.  Next time, I will cook it for the correct amount of time and try a glass baking dish instead of a metal pan.  

So, along my journey to recover from disordered eating and to be a faithful disciple of Jesus, I am learning to eat during celebrations while also thinking about the foods that are part of the celebration.  I do not have to buy a traditional U.S. birthday cake loaded with sugar and frosting.  I can make a cake or cobbler from More-with-Less that provides recipes that value celebrating and caring for God's earth and people.

As Longacre shares, "Sugar never was good for us...We've long been aware of sugar's role in tooth decay, diabetes, and obesity."
 "Much land now devoted to sugar should be used for other crops yielding proteins, vitamins, and minerals." More-with-Less, p. 260-261

Sitting around the kitchen table with my son and the rest of my family enjoying cobbler was a moment free of guilt, manipulation, and shame as I ate a dessert that tasted good.  It allowed me to use food  to celebrate in a way that felt joyful and also faithful.

Broccoli Rice

Part of the quote from Raymond Sokolov that introduces the topic of Main Dishes with Rice on p. 125:
    "In the short term, there is probably nothing anyone can do to forestall mass starvation in some
    rice-dependent areas.  But the very least we can do is to take a symbolic stand and cook rice with
    reverence...Perhaps we could even inaugurate our own rice ritual: a moment of silence for those
    who are not getting enough."

I wish that my thoughts about rice included reverence and a moment of silence for people who are not getting enough to eat.  That is my hope for future times of rice-cooking.

But last week and yesterday, my mind was ruminating on more mundane and eating disordered thoughts, mixed with glimmers of hope and excitement.

Now to the recipe:
The idea for this Blog came about through discussions over the years with my husband and took shape more specifically over Christmas vacation 2012.  I even picked out this recipe much earlier this year.  I chose it based on the ease of preparation and the relatively few and low-anxiety-causing ingredients.

It just took me awhile to get the courage to actually begin the process of cooking from this cookbook.  It also took me a little while longer to be completely sick of my diet of bread and yogurt!

This is what I decided to make:

Recipe #1: p. 128 Broccoli Rice

Sauté in small skillet:
    margarine
    chopped onion
Add:
    broccoli, cooked and drained
    grated cheese
    milk
    cooked rice
Bake for 45 minutes.


Back to the running commentary this past week and yesterday as I prepared to make the first recipe:

Last week: I have the option of just preparing the recipes and not actually eating them.  The challenge I posed on the blog says nothing specifically about me actually eating the food.

Last week: If I do eat it, I can just really overestimate the amount of calories in it, so that I will end up eating less calories than my regular diet.

Sunday night and Monday morning: I need to stop at the store and get skim milk because all we have left is 1 percent, and I don't want those additional 10 calories in the recipe.  I know that those 10 calories are going to get split between the whole recipe, and I'm only going to have a tiny bite, if any, but if I can get away with having less calories in it, then I will.  I'm also not going to do the part with margarine and onions because I don't like onions (or margarine because it adds fat to the recipe).

Monday 10:15 AM: I feel guilty that I am stopping at the store after teaching my class because I didn't ask Matt if he minded if I was 10 minutes later coming home.  I can justify it by saying that he encourages me to not ask his permission to do things that I need or want to do.

Monday 10:16 AM: Now that I'm in the store to get the milk, I notice that the small containers of yogurt that I'm trying to buy less of are on sale at this store.  But I don't have a basket or a cart...I can go get one...but then I'll be even later.  I'll just carry as many as I can and grab the milk on the way out.

Monday 10:28 AM: I feel guilty that I'm trying to get in the house and put away the groceries before Matt notices that I stopped at the store, but I know that I'm also going to tell him that I stopped.  I just don't want him to see that I bought more yogurt for me and feel disappointed in me.

Monday 1:00 PM: I feel like I should use nap time to cook this meal so that I'm not rushing at the end and in case anything goes wrong.

Monday 1:05 PM: Right now, I feel excited about cooking, and I plan to eat a small bite.  I feel strong and courageous.

Monday 1:07 PM: I feel pretty dumb that I'm looking up how to cut and cook broccoli on my Kindle.

Monday 1:10 PM: I feel energetic, enthusiastic, idealistic.  I should cook like this everyday!

Monday 1:30 PM: I notice a burning smell, but I think it's probably just water  going down the side of the rice pot.

Monday 1:32 PM: Yep, I burnt the rice.

Monday 1:34 PM: Why on earth did I decide to make this recipe on my busiest day of the week?  I teach, watch another family's baby, tutor (but not this week), and have people over for dinner.  Why did I decide to do this cooking project in the first place?  It's easier and faster to have sandwiches and just do what I know and what feels safe.

Monday 2:00 PM: The house still smells like burnt rice, but at least the broccoli is cooked, and the second pot of rice looks good.  But will the food turn out ok since I'm not going to cook the onions and margarine and then add the other ingredients?  What if I cook it, and it's a disaster?  Will Matt be mad that I changed the recipe?

 Monday 2:15 PM: I'm more obsessive about making sure that I've measured things correctly since I'm planning to eat this than when I make foods for other people.  Correction, I don't measure them correctly; I measure them to ensure that I skimp a little bit on all of the ingredients.  But I hope that the recipe still turns out alright.  I hope it's not a disaster and that I anger or disappoint people. 

Monday 4:00 PM: I don't feel too much anxiety right now thinking about tasting what I made.  I like the smell of the cooked broccoli and rice, and I'm proud of myself for making something new.  I'm also really proud that I didn't spend all week asking Matt to reassure me or make the decision to go ahead and follow-through with cooking the first recipe.  And I'm even more proud that I'm planning to taste it.  I feel kind of excited.

Monday 5:30-6:00 PM: I'm really enjoying the conversation with our friend who is over for dinner.  My mind is surprisingly focused on the conversation, and I am looking forward to trying the broccoli rice.

Monday 6:15 PM: Even though I only have a dollop of plain yogurt and a miniscule bite of broccoli rice on my plate, I feel like part of the fellowship of the meal.  The broccoli rice is pretty good, if I do say so myself!

Monday 7:00 PM: I know that I barely ate enough of the recipe to justify it in my calories for the day, but since I already planned to, and I feel a little anxiety about not counting it, I will adjust my calories for today.  I'm disappointed in myself that I didn't risk trying a little bit more of the broccoli rice or at least more accurately estimating its caloric content.

Monday 7:00-10:00 PM: I'm surprisingly calm, not-obsessive, and really enjoying my evening.

Monday 10:16 PM: Well, I'm going to bed.  I count it a success that I didn't let my negative, obsessive thoughts keep me from following through with preparing and tasting my first recipe.  But did Matt and my friend like the recipe?  Did they notice that I ate any?  Were they proud of me for trying it, or were they disappointed that I didn't risk a bigger challenge?

National Doughnut Day

"Be willing to celebrate.  Around the world, people who must live on monotonous diets still manage an occasional celebration.  Undoubtedly their celebrations bring enjoyment in proportion to how much they vary from the daily routine.

The four Gospels show Jesus entering wholeheartedly into times of joy and feasting.  We celebrate with family and friends when a holiday or special occasion brings us together.  But the fact that in North America we tend to feast nonstop can dull our festive joy.  We feel guilty about a Thanksgiving turkey and trimmings when we have not lived responsibly in the weeks preceding it.  We require more and more trimming to turn any celebration into a meal distinguishable from our daily diet.

A wedding, a daughter or son's homecoming from far away, an aged parent's birthday, Christmas or Easter--food can help express what these days mean to us.  But there are simple ways to turn meals into celebrations.  Hold in clear perspective the reason for celebrating.  Don't expect food to be the total experience.  More with less means affirming faith and relationships as the basis for celebrating, and letting food play a complementary role."
                                 p. 26-27 Doris Janzen Longacre More-with-Less (italics added for emphasis)


 Today is National Doughnut Day.

The only reason I am aware of this holiday is because I heard a short blurb about it on National Public Radio (NPR) the other day.  The story explained how Dunkin' Donuts will begin offering its new sandwich on National Doughnut Day: fried eggs and bacon on a glazed doughnut.

Intrigued by National Doughnut Day, I began my scholarly research via Wikipedia and Google searches to learn about this day and other food days.

Here's what I discovered:
"National Doughnut Day started in 1938^[1] as a fund raiser for Chicago's The Salvation Army. Their goal was to help the needy during the Great Depression, and to honor The Salvation Army "Lassies" of World War I, who served doughnuts to soldiers."
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Doughnut_Day

Many countries have specially recognized food days.
Italy has National Espresso Day.
The Netherlands have National Pancake Day.

Depending on which list you look at, the U.S. has somewhere between 175 and over 300 food days.  Some days even have two special foods.  August 2 is National Ice Cream Sandwich day and National Ice Cream Soda Day!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_food_days
http://www.statesymbolsusa.org/National_Symbols/American_Hollidays.html

We have essentially made National Doughnut Day's real meaning irrelevant because we've created so many other pointless days.
The reason for celebrating has been lost.  We don't know that we're supposed to be honoring the women who volunteered with the Salvation Army.  We're just having a doughnut.

And to compound the issue, we're "just having a doughnut" many mornings.   One statistic claims that more than 10 billion doughnuts are eaten every year in the U.S.
http://wiki.answers.com/Q/How_many_doughnut_get_eaten_each_year

As Longacre pointed out, "celebrations bring enjoyment in proportion to how much they vary from the daily routine."  If we have a doughnut every morning, the celebration is lost when it comes time for National Doughnut Day.

Not only do we not remember the reason we're celebrating, our joy has been dulled so that a regular glazed doughnut won't satisfy.  We have to continually create new exciting doughnuts, like the egg, bacon, glazed doughnut to make the celebration feel any different than a regular day.