Today’s lunch was a cacophony of flavors, faces, tastes, and emotions. Lacy approached me early in the summer about an idea she had: she wanted to bring together the people in her life who helped her recover from anorexia, thank them, and connect them with each other through her healing process. Having done a favorite meal with her–my first favorite meal–as she was just beginning to accept food as a friend, not foe, this was an incredible opportunity to bring things full circle for both Lacy and myself.

So I started to think–how could I help connect these very important people with Lacy and with each other? What things could we do to weave meaning and history through sharing a meal–through eating as an action? Two things came to mind: the tiny-clothes braid and the box. We were all there because we have helped her move forward and will continue to do so. The braid represented this, each of us taking a small piece home to remember the meal by as well as helping Lacy lighten her load as she continues towards health and peace in mind and body. The box was something fun and different I wanted to try. It represents the hidden messages that we all carry, rarely exposing them to the outside world or even to ourselves. But what if we were to take a look at some of those “darker” thoughts, read them for what they are, and realize that by recognizing and embracing them is the sweetest taste of all? By bringing our fears and hurts out of the shadows, or in this instance, a story Lacy wrote for us out of the darkness of the box and sharing it with a supportive and loving network and with our self, they suddenly becomes less scary and less huge and even taste sweet.

Lacy’s Story
(one sentence was written on a ribbon, attached to a Da Kine cookie)

I came to every single one of you feeling alone and confused

I was somehow simultaneously proud of my control and terrified of how I had manipulated my body.

I was exhausted by this tension, realizing that I had no grasp on reality- no clue what I really looked like.

I could not feel much of anything anymore. I was so hungry I was paralyzed, I became so small I felt barely human.

I said “I’m worried I may be underweight” and waited for you to confirm or deny.

I weighed in officially for the first of what would be many times in early September, just as it began to get cold. I am five foot seven. I clocked in at 102 pounds.

I had picked my support network out of convenience: who was already comfortable, who was most available, who was covered by my health insurance, who was female and willing to listen, who practiced in my neighborhood.

What I ended up receiving in response to my choices was the preciousness of an informal team that believed in my humanity and demanded that I exist in a healthy manner.

I somehow managed to cobble together an alliance that unconditionally supported my process.

Even when I was a jerk because I was scared, even when I lost my health insurance and could no longer pay for services, and even when I barely remembered that I wanted recovery at all.

My team gently demanded that I eat, they firmly demanded that I be kind, and they became the backbone and will of my recovery when I could not conjure up the will of my own.

You became my strength. Day by day, food by food, pound by pound you held the emotional turmoil of my necessary weight gain and recovery.

You gave the ultimate gift of compassion, especially in times when I could not give it to myself.

What greater gift exists in the world?

Shape cookies and place on a parchment paper lined or well

The guests a lot of dietary restrictions–sugar free, wheat free, gluten free–so we made do and came up with a lovely menu of whole grains, fresh vegetables and fruits, and spelt bread. Lacy gave me a list of the foods that were most inspirational to her personally through her recovery, the foods that first became her friends. Using those ingredients we crafted a menu together that would satisfy everyone–and I’m pretty sure it did! We made a lovely chard and chick pea salad, a quinoa, mango, and black bean salad, spelt olive bread, no bake chocolate and nut cookies (which were excellent! if you ever have a chocolate craving, these will totally do the trick!!), and halved avocados, figs, and dates.

Chopped chard and bean salad
1 medium onion, diced
1 shallot, minced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 can red beans, rinsed & drained
1 can chickpeas, rinsed & drained
1 bunch of chard, rinsed and dried, stalks chopped, leaves cut into strips
Handful of sun-dried tomatoes, chopped
1/2 cup pine nuts, lightly toasted
1/3 extra virgin olive oil
1/3 cup star apple vinegar (Vom Fass) or perhaps a balsamic

Combine all the ingredients in a large bowl and toss to combine. Taste for seasoning and adjust of necessary. Serve cold or at room temperature.

Spelt bread
makes 1 loaf

2 teaspoons fresh yeast
1 teaspoon honey
1.5 cups lukewarm water
4 cups white spelt flour
1 heaped teaspoon salt

Dissolve the yeast and honey in half a cup of water and leave until it begins to froth. Add 3 and a half cups of flour, the rest of the water and the salt and knead to a dough. Leave to rest for 10 minutes then continue kneading, adding more flour or water as required to make a soft silky dough. Cover with a damp tea towel and leave to double in size, approximately 1 hour. Punch down, form into a loaf and cover again with a damp tea towel and leave for half an hour. Preheat the oven with a baking stone to 445°F.
Bake for 20 to 30 minutes or until the loaf sounds hollow when tapped. Leave to cool for at least 20 minutes.

This was an amazing experience for me to be a part of and am thankful that I was invited to do this. This was not only important closure–as it represented an era past–but a door opening with a fresh breeze blowing through, smelling of newness and opportunities to come.

Amuse Bouche! (Happy Mouth!)