Self-doubt can creep into my life like wild mint. With soft aggression and stealth, it bursts forth with every intention of taking over my entire garden. It uses up nourishment from my soul’s fertile soil and emits a smell that becomes familiar, comforting—dare I say fresh, even? This weekend was a wake up call to not let myself get so comfortable with my fears, but to get out of the habit of letting them have their full share of my life’s “soil.” Fear, like mint-gone-wild, takes up too much valuable space. It chokes out my dreams, the reality of where I am presently, and pursuing where I want to go next.
This weekend I encountered a few parts of myself I had been keeping tucked safely away from my consciousness for years. This is a strange sensation—meeting a part of you that you didn’t want to know, but just barges right in like an unwelcome guest at Sunday night supper. At the Eat, Write, Retreat conference, I also met incredible folks who were just doing what they loved. Imagine! Only doing what you love and not thinking about the consequences. There is a big part of me that tries to live this way—constantly readjusting, bringing my focus back in line with what my gut reactions are, and then going for it. Art, eating design, health, more design, and photography (read: creative) are some of the pursuits and wonderfully rich paths I’ve learned and continue to learn so much from. But there is another part of me that worries—worries that I’m not doing the “right thing” (whatever that means) or I’m not focusing enough on what I should be doing (the word “should” always raises a red flag for me). Notice a pattern here? I sure do.
Like an ashamed mother, I’ve held back parts of myself for fear of not being good or good enough. “Would you rather be good or whole?” is a question I love. Obviously the answer is whole, but when I get uncomfortable I inevitably revert back to hiding those aspects of myself that make me feel scared—instead of steadily aiming straight for them. This weekend, I realized how unfair it is of me to hide from myself and not live a whole life. When I hide, I am preventing myself from giving the world the gifts that come from being who I am.
But let’s be real, mint isn’t all bad and does have it’s place in the garden. It brings a freshness and vitality to our palates, even if it does tend to have an overbearing personality. This is a good way to look at our fears too. They’re there for a reason and they do add a certain vibrancy to our lives—even if it’s just the challenge of over coming them; when you do, it’s exhilarating. So instead of choking out all that mint, try making a daily practice of checking on it, trimming it back, tending it carefully. When I take the same approach to fear, I realize those fears aren’t unmanageable and in fact have a particular and useful place in the garden of my life. Who would have guessed? Certainly not me.
Anyone up for a mojito?
The photos are from a fun day at the Court House farmers market, shot with my Diana mini.
These past few months, it seems as if I’ve been coming across more and more stunning work, wonderful people, and inspiring finds than ever before. I am notorious for having a dozen or more tabs open in my browser at once, never wanting to close them down for fear of forgetting or loosing track of what I found. (I do bookmark, but then I don’t always check them — internet organization can be boggling at times!) I used to have a strict policy (ah, youth) when I first started blogging and the only work I would show on my blog would be solely my own. However, I soon learned that there is a beautiful reciprocity that happens when we share in each others strengths, passions, and accomplishments.
Inspiration occurs when I meaningfully connect with people and through my immediate environment. The people thing is interesting; I may never have actually met the person but can still feel a strong connection through their work and life’s lens. I have, however, (gratefully) met in person some of these astoundingly talented and illuminating people. I am pulled towards those who tend to be constantly evolving and growing as people, designers, and artists. I think this aspect of humanity, and within our selves, is simply amazing.
I understand a place via sight, sound, touch, smell, and taste; they give me a multi-dimentional and detailed explanation that isn’t necessarily obvious. My work and my heart are informed through these tactile and tangible experiences. Over time, I’ve realized the importance of my surroundings (both of people and places) which is why I’ve gravitated towards photography more and more.
In gratitude to those who have given me—and countless others—inspiration along the way. Thank you.
Who or what inspires you?
I love looking at things sideways. Or backwards. Or pictures instead of words. Changing things up a bit in my own creative endeavors is a necessity to keep things fresh (even for myself). So when I find others doing work that is quirky, funny, and their personalities just shine right through, I love it. These drawings by Katie Shelly are one-off the beaten path from all the other illustrated drawings of recipes I see out there.
Generally, illustrated recipes are too busy and heavy on the graphics. They also usually accompany the written instructions anyway. Sure, it can be nice to see some cute pictures while you’re reading a recipe (sometimes), but other times, it’s a distraction. I like how these illustrations are the beginning of a new way to think about and communicate a recipe—all through imagery. As art work and illustrations, these are definitely precious (I’d love to have them as a poster in my kitchen); but as actual tools for the beginner cook or even the well seasoned chef, I see a need for some refinement (hi there, design students). Thanks, Katie, for opening my eyes with your simple yet effective drawings, and sharing your illustrative depiction of a recipe!
Parting gifts have never been so sweet. Thank you Kate for your incredibly awesome pie book; and the Edible Illustrated guide to the worlds food plants is gorgeous, thank you Elizabeth!
Sometimes it is easier to see where you’ve been when reflecting on the past year(s). The images below are a few things I’ve seen, noticed, contemplated over, been inspired by, or was captivated through their simplicity, quirkiness, and/or beauty. Next years resolutions are:
1. keep my eyes, ears, and heart open to the beauty in the world around me and the world inside me, be present and mindful.
2. go with my gut much more often.
3. trust myself.
4. laugh more.
5. celebrate the wonderful people I have in my life and let them know more often how important they are to me.
Thank you for reading my musings and keeping me company! Here’s to a new year, the fresh start, letting go of the old and onto the new. A happy happy new year to you all!
For the past month or so, I’ve been planning. Spectacular, beautiful, and meaningful eating design events have been playing through my mind’s eye over and over. Interesting, I would think to myself as I watched these scenes unfold before me. And I really couldn’t (and can’t) help it, they just burst into my head. At first, I didn’t judge them. It was fun day-dreaming (the best form of mental exercise there is), seeing what my imagination would come up with next. But then, when I started to question this use of my time, and mainly myself, I started to panic. Literally, worry. And not just a little, but a lot. What does this mean? Why is this happening? Ugh, I thought, talk about putting a damper on things. When this happens, and I’m lucky enough to catch myself at it, I try to frame things in a new light for myself to help me step outside of the issue, ex: If your best friend came to you and confided she’d been having some wonderfully creative ideas popping up, would you dissuade her and her process by asking non supportive probing questions? No.
As it turns out, there is still a lot of MFA left in me. In fact, it’s not going anywhere. That experience, while it will take me the rest of my life to fully digest, did so much for me in the way of coming into my own. While I will be forever grateful for this, there is a lot to sort through still–something I have been putting off for, oh, the past year. Forming my creative self and coming into my own was anything but easy. Doing this under (and do mean under) intense scrutiny, critique, and little to no support would leave anyone wary–not to mention worn out. But the old adage “time heals” is certainly true, especially in this case. Except, it wasn’t my conscious mind per se, that let me know it was alright to start living creatively again, it was my day dreams. It’s amazing what a little rest, recuperation, and a focus on health will do not only to the body, but the mind as well. And those non supportive probing questions I default to asking myself (and inciting panic and immobility)? Just leftovers from a critical juncture in my personal growth. Now that I know this, I can (literally) move on!
Wouldn’t it be nice if life were always a single, aligned package, all wrapped up with a neat little bow–and presented to us for us to unwrap? I used to think so, but now I’m not so sure. Yes, it would make things “easier” in the way of knowing what’s to come exactley and not having any surprises. But it’s those surprises that force us to grow, to think for ourselves, and to live. Life may seem like a bottomless pit while we go through an especially tough time. But once through and can look back, you are undeniably a different, deeper person. That personal experience is priceless and in the end will help shape the future. The trick is, I’ve discovered, is to really understand what we’ve been through in order to know where we are going. I tried and tried to push down the shame and guilt I felt for not “living up to” the standards of my school, my parents, of whomever-I-felt-I-let-down-before; for not “creating” in a way they saw fit, or living my life in a way that they could understand. Cliche sounding, I know. But, it’s even more weird when you realize,
hey, that’s exactley what I’ve been doing.
It’s even weird now to say out loud. But, I’m excited because I can take action and do something about it.
All of this thinking and multiple realizations later, (of course) I found myself in the kitchen. My focus was on these oat bars and trying to find one that I could make over and over again, to have as a staple snack in the house. Crunchy, chewy, layered with texture and pizazz, I want no ordinary oat bar. So I recipe tested until I found the winner. Of course (and this ALWAYS happens!) Heidi Swanson‘s power bars won out. She is incredible, seriously, incredible. And her recipes, well, they are all over-the-top incredible too. So you know what to expect from these oat bars then–sheer amazingness. The other blueberry oat bars were delicious too, don’t get me wrong. But they were actually more like a dessert than a grab-and-go kind of thing I was looking for. I’d make them again for sure and the filling options could be endless (substitute the blueberries for pumpkin, cherries, apples, you name it…). So really, it was a win win for us all.
Happy recipe trying (and meditating)!
Cranberry Ginger Power Bars, via Heidi Swanson
1 1/4 cups walnut halves (5 ounces) 1 1/2 cups puffed brown rice cereal 1 1/4 cups rolled oats 1 cup dried cranberries, chopped 1/2 cup oat bran 3 tablespoons finely chopped crystallized ginger 1 cup brown rice syrup (see Note) 1/4 cup natural cane sugar (see Note) 1/2 teaspoon salt 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Preheat the oven to 350°. Lightly spray an 8-by-11-inch baking dish with cooking spray. Spread the walnuts on a baking sheet and toast until fragrant and golden, about 9 minutes. Let cool, then coarsely chop. Transfer the walnuts to a large bowl. Add the puffed rice, rolled oats, cranberries, oat bran and ginger and toss well.
In a small saucepan, combine the brown rice syrup, cane sugar and salt and bring to a boil over moderate heat. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the mixture is slightly thickened, about 4 minutes. Remove from the heat and stir in the vanilla. Pour the syrup into the rice-oat mixture and toss to coat thoroughly. Transfer the warm mixture to the prepared baking dish and pack lightly with a spatula greased with cooking spray. Let cool for at least 45 minutes before cutting into 16 bars.
The cranberry-walnut bars can be wrapped individually in plastic wrap or waxed paper and kept in an airtight container for up to 4 days.
Blueberry Oat bars, via Fat Free Vegan Kitchen
1 pint blueberries 1/4 cup agave nectar 1/4 cup apple juice 1/2 teaspoon vanilla 2 tablespoons cornstarch mixed with enough water or juice to form a smooth paste
3 cups oatmeal* (regular, not instant) 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder 1/4 teaspoon salt 6 ounces unsweetened applesauce 6 tablespoons (3/8 cup) agave nectar 6 tablespoons (3/8 cup) water 1 teaspoon vanilla
Preheat oven to 375F. Oil an 8×8-inch baking dish.
In a small saucepan, combine the blueberries, agave nectar, and juice. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat. When it boils, stir in the vanilla and the cornstarch mixture. Continue to stir as the mixture boils and thickens. Remove from heat and set aside.
Put 1 1/2 cups of the oatmeal into a blender and grind it to a fine powder. Pour it into a medium-sized mixing bowl and add the remaining oatmeal, cinnamon, baking powder, and salt. Mix well. Stir in the apple sauce, agave nectar, water, and vanilla, and mix well.
Spread half of the batter into the prepared pan, smoothing well to cover the bottom of the pan. Spoon the blueberry filling over the batter, and cover the blueberries with the remaining batter.
Bake for 30 minutes, or until the top is lightly browned. Allow to cool before cutting into bars.
Happy birthday! You are two and I can hardly believe it.
We began on such simple terms, you and I. You were a place, a container more like, where I could document my eating design projects. I needed an outlet and you provided. You needed direction and I gave you several.
In the beginning, my projects ranged from simple meals to extravagant events. You were there as I peeped, squeaked, and squawked my way through prose that made little to no sense. But you understood they were part of the package, the necessary challenges, of finding my voice. You tolerated my bad grammar, my half thought out sentences. You tried to point out my spelling errors but got fed up and turned a blind eye to the numerous homophones and incorrect apostrophes.
Through my painful growth spurts and joyous changes, you were always flexible and encouraging. The terms of conditions for your existence have gone through multiple re-writes, but you never complained. Document eating design projects? Let’s do it. Host a cookie month or snack week? Bring it on. Focus on simple dinner menus? Absolutely. Talk about holistic health and primary food? Yes and yes. Looking back, I realize this was a lot to ask. Nonetheless, you were my platform, my foundation.
Your birthday is cause for celebration and from that, reflection. What have you taught me these past two years? What have I gained from posting week after week, month after month? Three things immediately come to mind: perseverance, communication, and manifestation. You have shown me that I, quite simply, can. You’ve held me accountable to my own passions, my own success, quietly (but persistently) nudging me along. The next post kept me alert to my own creativity. Your constant presence encouraged me to feel through projects more deeply, experiment with new recipes, and research new (and even crazy) ideas.
You have taught me what it means to communicate. It wasn’t enough that my aunt used to stress to me “words MATTER, Tricia” or that I used to clam up when asked to express an idea or thought (for fear of being misunderstood—because words mattered so much). I had to go out there and just do it. I needed to take the plunge headfirst into the world. Outside. Using my voice. Not in my head. And you listened. And I did indeed learn that words, in every way, matter.
Before you, I went through a long, hard slump of being unable to tap into my creative self and manifest any ideas. That time went hand in hand with feeling like I had no creative self, therefore nothing to offer to the world. That changed when I moved to Portland, finished my Master in Fine Arts, and for the first time in my life was able to focus on my own abilities—those innate talents each person holds, waiting to be uncovered, discovered, and then offered to the world. You were born out of these initial findings of myself. You sprouted so suddenly and only after I had tilled my creative soil a tiny bit. You were waiting to happen. And while I didn’t realize it at the time, I was waiting for you to happen too.
My excitement over holistic health did not deter you. In fact, you embraced it whole-heartedly. I know you understood before I knew how to put it into words, how it connected with everything else I was doing. The underlying concept of my eating design projects were to “connect to our selves and with each other through the action of eating.” Holistic health focuses on the whole person and better understanding themselves, utilizing the concrete avenue of food and nutrition. You allowed me to explore, and then see, that eating design was so much more than a fancy dinner or a simple recipe, it was an avenue to nourish the soul, to feed us on a deeper level. Everybody eats—so how can food (as the universal connection) be used to heal, to communicate, to connect? Holistic health does this by considering the whole person (physical, emotional, mental, physiological); Eating Design does this by considering the whole story (fact, fiction, emotive, historical…) of either a singular person or an entire community. People are made up of stories. In fact, their whole lives are a series of stories, memories, and experiences strung together. You gave me the space to become whole myself and to understand that my interests truly lie with the concept of wholeness, completeness, in a person, in a family, in a community.
Thank you, Eating Is Art, for being the place I can grow, change, push, and refine myself in. Thank you for sprouting when you did and silently encouraging me all along the way. While it’s only been two years, it feels more like ten—and I am forever grateful.
And thank YOU my wonderful readers, for making these past two years unforgettable and wonderful. You are the reason I blog and keep blogging. You have created such a lovely community of support and encouragement that I never expected, but am delighted to be a part of. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
Much Love, Tricia
Do you ever just feel a change on the horizon? Even if you are not exactly sure what is going to happen, you know that something will happen? This could be for a lot of reasons: maybe you’ve been putting something out there or you’ve been working diligently on something, or maybe it’s a feeling you just get from running into the same problems or issues–like it’s time to turn right or left. This has definitely been a time like that for me.
For the past few months, I’ve retracted a little, made myself a little more scarce and a little less accessible. Not that you couldn’t or wouldn’t be able to get a hold of me, I was definitely around–but I was quiet. This is something I had never done before–just be quiet. It was almost like a mental detox time–purging old tape recordings (that can play on repeat in my head at times); revising what ideas worked and didn’t work anymore; identifying, sorting, arranging, and organizing my wants, needs and desires; literally attempting to leave no stone unturned and throwing out what wasn’t good for me anymore. I was surprised with how much energy this took to do!
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But winter has that effect on me. It is an inward, more quiet time which, take it or leave it, can be really beneficial. It’s a time when focus and earthy energy are needed to sustain our physical/mental/emotional energy on these short days. Both of those qualities can be enhanced by eating root vegetables.
I went to visit a friend today and she heated up some of the best soup I’ve had all season. It hit the spot in a way I didn’t even know I was needing! It was that good. The best part was, she made up the recipe by listening to what she wanted (and her body needed). It’s a basic butternut squash soup base–thick, creamy, with the aromatics of leeks and garlic. But she wasn’t satisfied so added coconut milk, cilantro, and then squeezed fresh lime on top. It was simply out of this world! Sometimes, it’s the little things that make all the difference.
Chelsea’s Butternut Squash Soup with a Thai Twist
Take 2 leeks, wash them thoroughly and slice very thin. Sweat in a skillet with both butter and olive oil (about 2 tablespoons each) for at least 15 minutes.
Crush three smallish garlic cloves, chop them and add to the leeks.
Dice one yellow bell pepper, add to the leeks and garlic, sweat for another 15 mins.
Add some spices–coriander, turmeric–anywhere from 1/2 – 1 teaspoon each. Use some cayenne even to spice it up.
Peel and cube one small butternut squash, add to the sweating veggies and saute for about 3 minutes.
Add vegetable or chicken broth to cover. Add a half (or whole) bag of nice frozen corn. Heavy simmer for a while, until the veggies are super soft and kind of smoosh together when you stir it with your wooden spoon.
Add one can coconut milk.
Salt and pepper to taste.
Finish with fresh cilantro and squeeze fresh lime on top. Serve warm and enjoy!
I was talking with a friend of mine the other day who told me that at the new year he gets a compulsive urge to madly write in his journal about the past year, furiously scribbling pictures and words revisiting his yearly narrative. He followed it up by saying “weird, huh.” No way! I told him. That is an incredible way to look back, reflect where you’ve been and what you’ve learned, and find the exciting possibilities of where you’d like to go in the coming year.
I too get especially contemplative this time of year. It is a rare and wonderful opportunity for me to really look inward and get a clear picture of my personal road map. I follow my tracks remembering a moment where I laughed so hard I cried, or physically cringing remembering another moment. I’ve found that with the difficult situations I’ve been through, it helps me to learn from my mistakes as well as heal old wounds when I visualize a different outcome–the one that I would have liked to have happened.
This year, I’ve made a list of a few things I’d like to do and learn. First, I want to be more open–to possibilities, to myself, and to really listening to others, nature, and the heart (or gut); I want to better surround myself with those who are positive and supportive as well as cherish daily those who have been there for me through thick and thin; I want a fulfilling career–one that I am able give back to the community all that I have learned (and continue learning from!) which I am so grateful for ; and laugh more–to find the humor in more situations and to laugh at myself more. There is a time and a place to take things seriously, but it is truly an art to not take more than is necessary so seriously! I admire those who can turn what may be awkward, intense, or difficult situations into something else.
I was flipping through The Bread Bible to find one of my favorite bread recipes, when I came across one with the title of American Chocolate Bread. It was under a chapter that I hadn’t yet ventured into called, A Slice of Divinity: Celebration and Dessert Breads. Talk about reflection (see above;), I started wondering why I hadn’t been reading the recipes in that chapter. They are diverse, packed with history, about celebration (who doesn’t like a good party?), and unique. This particular chapter was like getting a concentrated world history lesson via bread. Yes, please! Historically, (according to the book), there is not any link to the new year, per say, and this recipe. However, in my mind the two will be inexorably linked forever. This may even become a new holiday ritual (I do love food rituals;). These not-too-sweet breads are perfect for breakfast or a midnight snack. They satisfy the senses on many levels: the slight crunch of the sparkling sugar on the crust, the warm smell of yeasted bread, the surprise gush of melted chocolate on your tongue and lips as you bite into the center, and the heft of the roll itself–let’s just say you are not eating air.
And speaking of rituals, Andrew ensured good luck for us both in the coming year by making a family favorite: black eyed peas. He made them without following a recipe but went along with his memory, intuition, and some already burgeoning good luck. They were fantastic. Happy new year!
American Chocolate Bread, via The Bread Bible by Beth Hensperger
For the sponge:
2 tablespoons (2 packages) active dry yeast
2 tablespoons sugar
1 cup warm water
1 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
Dough:
1 cup warm milk
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1 tablespoon salt
4-4 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
8 oz semisweet chocolate (nice chocolate like Scharffen-Berger or Ghirardelli)
3 tablespoons vanilla sugar (or just regular sugar works too)
1. In a large bowl using a whisk or in the bowl of your stand mixer with the paddle attachment, place the yeast, sugar, water, and 1 1/2 cups flour. Beat until smooth, about 3 minutes. Cover and let stand in a warm place until doubled in bulk, about 1 hour. This makes your sponge.
2. Stir down the sponge with a wooden spoon. Add 1 cup milk, 3 tablespoons butter, salt, and 1 cup flour. Beat hard until smooth, about 2 minutes. Add the flour 1/2 cup at a time, to form a soft dough.
3. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface and knead for about 5 minutes, adding 1 tablespoon of flour at a time as necessary until dough just loses its stickiness. It will be soft and springy.
4. Place the dough in a greased bowl. Turn once to coat top and cover with plastic wrap. Let rise in a warm place until doubled in bulk, about 1 hour.
5. Grease eight 4 1/2 by 2 1/2 inch loaf pans. (If you don’t have these, that’s fine, I just twisted mine into little rolls and baked them on my bread stone). Cut the chocolate into 1 oz portions. Gently deflate the dough. Turn the dough out on a lightly floured work surface and divide into 8 equal portions. Pat each portion out into a 7 by 4 inch rectangle about 3/4 to 1 inch thick. Place a piece of chocolate at short edge of each dough portion and roll the dough up jelly roll fashion. Pinch the edges to seal and completely enclose chocolate. Arrange either in the pans or if you are not using pans, just on the floured surface, and let rise until almost doubled, about 15 minutes.
6. Twenty minutes before baking, preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Brush the loaves with the remaining 2 tablespoons of butter and sprinkle with about 1 teaspoon sugar to sparkle the crust. Place the pans in the oven and bake 20-30 minutes, or until a delicate brown. Transfer the loaves to a cooling rack for 20 minutes. Serve warm.
A happy, healthy, and adventurous new year to you all!
Tea. I love it. I drink it every morning with a few pieces of toast liberally spread with coconut oil, agave nectar, and a sprinkling of cinnamon.
I drink tea throughout my day. Actually, I have a total schedule for it: black tea first thing–no more than two mugs, green tea after 11am until about 3pm, herbal tea until I go to bed. And I literally drink it morning through night–my house is cold and it is a good way to stay warm and hydrated .
I also love to drink it with a friend, which is what I did today. It was good to catch up. She made this lovely Cardamon Fig Bread, it was delicious. She even served her homemade preserved plums with it! They were stewed in vanilla beans and a cinnamon stick before canning–completely amazing.
How do you like tea–with friends, alone, as a boost, only green, a comfort? I’d love to know!
Fig Cardamon Bread, by Chelsea
1/3 cup melted butter (or olive oil she said works too)
1 1/3 cup buttermilk
2 eggs
1 1/2 cup all purpose flour
1/2 cup sugar
1 heaping tablespoon honey
1 heaping tablespoon maple syrup
3/4 cup whole wheat flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cardamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups heaped with figs
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Butter and flour a 9x5x3 bread pan, set aside. Mix all the dry ingredients together, plus figs. Beat all the wet ingredients well. Combine the two and mix until combined. Pour into prepared dish and bake for 50 minutes. Serve warm.
Eat well!
