tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32180029101932808412024-03-12T21:16:27.957-07:00The Hungry NutritionistJenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-62511978597146368292010-08-20T20:07:00.000-07:002010-08-20T20:12:28.508-07:00C is for Chicago and Cake<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: medium; ">Monday, August 9th, 2010</span></div> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Last night Michelle and I made a pact. We would not leave St. Paul without a morning walk and a good breakfast. Only one of these things happened. The humid summer heat of the midwest did little too smother our enthusiasm for movement as we walked briskly through Annah’s neighborhood. Greeting the local Minnesotans with hearty “good morning”s. By the time we showered and were ready to head out of the apartment complex I was in a foul mood. It was nearly 10:30am and we hadn’t even had breakfast yet. There was no way we’d get to Chicago by a reasonable dinner time! (Funny how our travel plans are now dictated by where we’re going to get our next meal.) </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Fast forward 20 minutes and Michelle and I are seated, rather uncomfortably, at an establishment called Day by Day Cafe. I say uncomfortably because the booths were wood slabs, and were like something fit for a prison cell and not for a restaurant. The complete lack of invention that characterized the seating should have given us a hint as to what we could expect from the kitchen. We decided on tofu veggie scrambles with potatoes (I stress that the menu said potatoes) and whole grain toast. This surely would have been enough food but we hadn’t eaten anything yet that day and were completely tempted by the homemade buckwheat cakes so we agreed on a short stack. Our food arrived and the portions on each plate were fit for at least 2 people. The flavor on the other hand was fit for no one for it didn’t exist. Michelle claims she’s never seen me grab so furiously for the salt and then the pepper and then the salt and then the pepper and finally the tabasco sauce desperately trying to give my taste buds something to do. The so-called potatoes were actually once frozen rectangles of hash browns that were crispy golden brown on the outside ( a nice touch) and undercooked on the inside. No amount of ketchup, salt or pepper could redeem them. We ate quickly and sadly left quite a bit still on our plates. The pancakes we took to-go. </span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3SULQGAzMAwRG1_eo0yPbNBsdwM13IWbgUTAquW5jm0B-GyNZkNNhjuppp5DD4xUm-wPNdfpyANhk3sdC1GEj9HLVSiXilPg9y4108bizzx9RDlSUfzSr8BiNSOE_OpI-rMA-iAbS0bKW/s320/DSCN2601.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507694775524937042" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px; " /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglnsmTDbyTuNNbMvhHo7r6rIDPuV6iEGvPqYBpoyh9SOU7yc4QoNICiWvoCM-z5KNdlZLTEkd_oMSmuje6jD-DQE9RwEm_8uxx-gXbRsovlATYNsH5ZGuKOILMPy3zALKJLqHTpP4qOGVP/s320/DSCN2602.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507694901140304626" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px; " /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Through the last bit of Minnesota and then Wisconsin and into Illinois we subsisted on pancakes smeared with peanut butter (after a failed but creative attempt at an apricot-walnut buckwheat wrap), yet another Raw Revolution bar and a couple Tic-tacs (original flavor). </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">I should mention that we made an attempt to stop in Madison, WI only to find ourselves heading in a westerly direction with my temper heading in a northerly one. Michelle expertly guided us back on track maintaining her cool as the temperature in the car got just a tad hotter. We’re close to Chicago and I want to say we’re optimistic about the dining options that await us but I for one am not holding my breath.</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Kopi, A Traveler’s Cafe, was where we met up with my cousin Rachel and her girlfriend, Caelyn upon arriving in Chicago at a rather punctual 7:30p. Yes, my earlier tantrum was completely unfounded, as I guess all are. Sitting down we realized we were ravenous for both food and alcohol. Michelle ordered her usual Malbec and I shared a Organic local hard apple cider with Cae. Both extremely satisfying after a long day’s drive. A look at the menu revealed a rather small array of salads and sandwiches along with all-day breakfast fare. By that point in the trip I was tired of ordering and pleaded with the waitress to choose some sort of dairy-less option for me. I ended up ordering a tuna salad sandwich with avocado on sourdough and Michelle got a red bell pepper and goat cheese focaccia item. Both were just hearty enough to soothe our savage appetites while leaving room for one of the mouth-watering dessert items we had each ogled earlier on the way to the restroom. </span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqmaESTx975_MMAPYcRBkkkT4TRPxuHdAcNBZxg4X1KIRKQC0UfNf5jZeCy2slHaQl5y72i4FpQsa_Zi5AFfmf-yAsIK60Xx364iO3PA0JP2YIOd0FzEsfCUM9CEqUHfGD1gBUSmszxFMi/s320/DSCN2603.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507695281448247282" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px; " /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"></span></span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Being health conscious individuals who believe in moderation we ordered just 3 desserts to share among the 4 of us. This was especially appealing as we absolutely could not decide between the german chocolate cake and the banana torte. So we ordered one of each and then added on an italian themed berry custard dessert that I shamefully do not know the name of. All were amazing but the banana torte was otherworldly. Quite possible the moistest piece of cake my mouth has ever had the pleasure of interacting with. A few more drinks as we polished off the sweets and off to bed eager to start a day that would involve NO DRIVING or moving vehicle of any kind. </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYOVed9u_6uZ1ZJ3Oq_i0KX_10xKnnsVkLbqXcZ1lYpTjfa4q8PxeeeW1O8DePblpJBmt-9VkUGfc11hxd_28RQC072lwyXuDxTpCa_FUMoaNJIXreW7btvdxOsufD2a90P4BV-C4xjpO-/s320/DSCN2605.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507695465977202642" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px; " /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Touring Chicago on foot,</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Jenna and Michelle </span></span></span></p>Jenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-58155346879580793682010-08-20T19:57:00.000-07:002010-08-20T20:13:34.299-07:00The Reality of the American Foodscape<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjErtVoUA1l-m5tEbqrTYv9PgEaIXjanNhyvLBX86_F1RS6ZDyrKDzDThqZmQSEEatar06_s2J6RAu35Bfl5NHc6NXCWYvKKby6Xw_0VuNmrfgrk1EbHNhsmSmsVuh5zLNYFjZ6fSsl2aYx/s1600/DSCN2595.JPG"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Sunday, August 8th</span></span></div> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Oh, the Sabbath. Typically a day of rest and relaxation. Not for us. Not this day. With 11 plus hours of driving ahead of us we dragged our sore bodies out of the our tent early or at least before 8am. We quickly packed up the car, changed, brushed our teeth and said goodbye to Jacob and his dad, Glen. I asked the kind, Santa Claus-esque man at the KOA office where we might find a good place for a caffeine fix and perhaps breakfast. His recommendation was not what we had in mind so we filled up the gas tank and chose to stop further down the road. Further down the road turned out to be the sleepy town of Glendive, MT. The whole town was at church and those that weren’t joined us at the only open eatery available, a gourmet sandwich place known as Subway. Luckily for us, Subway now serves breakfast or at least some facsimile thereof. We did our best to put our skepticism aside and make do with what we had. At the end of the sandwich line we were handed 2 6” omelet subs with spinach, peppers, onions, avocado, banana peppers, cucumbers, and olives on toasted wheat bread. For the low low price of $2.49 each. Not too shabby and they didn’t taste all that bad either though we weren’t exactly left satisfied. </span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr1Tc964p-M0ks1dFKhd18B404x6nLUjUE3GRFRZRGFL3bXE69WrdQ2mJpi1wSkWYVGb8j-SBc_G5kv8s0y4tb5xwwcWr2OR_oljJHIZTtD_u58pjZcu4avt4RErORznn53MJHzgqVIFXj/s320/DSCN2592.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507692389992620546" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px; " /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">To be honest, we were grumpy. With a less than stellar night’s sleep and a less than stellar morning breakfast and not nearly enough caffeine the day’s prospects looked bleak. To make matters worse we crossed into Central Time Zone thus loosing an hour of precious time en route to St. Paul, MN. Along with a new time zone we also entered into a new state, North Dakota. North Dakota is characterized by vast swathes of nothing. Hay bales, grazing cows, a few trees dot the landscape but there is a distinct paucity of places to dine. For this reason we stopped for a rather early lunch in Bismarck, which is, for those of you who were sleeping during 4th grade social studies, the capital of ND. </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Right off the interstate we couldn’t believe our fortune. Without much effort at all we found a coffee shop with WiFi. This shop had an infinite amount of flavored coffee drinks any you could imagine and some that you probably shouldn’t. Michelle ordered her standard soy latte and I my usual chai. We sat down and began an internet search for our next meal. A search for vegetarian eateries yielded zilch as did a few other attempts to filter our results. We finally narrowed it down to a place called the Wood House which according to Yelp! reviewers has the best burger in ND and according to the sign on the restaurant itself the best in all the world. We were not convinced of that fact but with open minds drove into its parking lot. Our flow was halted abruptly when we realized that this place was equipped with a drive-thru window. This sent us scurrying around the city center for the next 30 minutes trying desperately to find something, anything that didn’t resemble fast food. Our second try, Minerva’s was unexpectedly closed until 4pm. Our third attempt, Kroll’s Diner was too close a cousin to Denny’s with food that looked just a little too shiny. Undeterred we hurried over to Schlotsky’s Deli in hopes of an authentic deli sandwich. “This will be the day of the sandwich” Michelle said gleefully. But this was not to be. Schlotsky’s was even scarier than Kroll’s with food with even a glossier sheen and too much fat-free this or that on the menu for our liking. About to give up, we saw the two most magical words, a simple phrase that we hold close to our hearts. Farmers’ Market and it was today! It was now! We ran over to the solitary tent and found Duke the farmer proudly selling his wares. The peppers looked so good we nearly cried. These are the best I grow, said Duke, beaming. We gathered up a cluster of red, yellow, and green gems and walked back toward the car. Not the best peppers we’ve ever tasted but we were thankful nonetheless. </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">We still needed food. With the stark landscape of ND ahead of us. If we didn’t eat now, then when? With reluctance we drove back to the Wood House and sidled into a booth. </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Our eyes scanned the usual suspects found on booths like this across the nation: napkin holder, salt and pepper shakers, ketchup and mustard bottles, telephone receiver. If one of these seems out of place to you, you’re not alone. You see, at the Wood House patrons call-in their order from their seat. This would be an experience like no other. But we almost didn’t get to experience it at all. Looking at the menu we became more and more concerned for our well-being. I could feel my stomach turning at the thought of eating 98% of the menu items and I could see Michelle felt the same way. But time was ticking away and we had exhausted every other option save Subway and we weren’t about to go there for a second time in one day. So we did it. We sucked it up and I picked up the phone. </span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia, serif;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjErtVoUA1l-m5tEbqrTYv9PgEaIXjanNhyvLBX86_F1RS6ZDyrKDzDThqZmQSEEatar06_s2J6RAu35Bfl5NHc6NXCWYvKKby6Xw_0VuNmrfgrk1EbHNhsmSmsVuh5zLNYFjZ6fSsl2aYx/s200/DSCN2595.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507694120585331234" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqcEVD0-NzJmaaiIK8AP1_dqr7PyHqRHNdFJRDliEM_AVd75cAFmHDpt_GOX0_BJC3rHJCzhoU6jhJFhPupDZqAvbuJufdW2jp-aA120LNzwUd0slp-ukBYbpPn7OpuZ5mFPvsVFRUDWMZ/s200/DSCN2596.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507693254109098466" style="float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " /></span></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div></span><p></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Greeted by a scratchy voice that asked for my order I forced out the words: I’d like (that was a stretch) a buffalo burger, 1/2 an egg salad sandwich on “dark” bread with a cup of navy bean soup and a side of potato salad. The potato salad sparked our interest because it was a “seasonal” offering which held the slim chance that the ingredients might be local. I put down the receiver and we waited for our food to arrive. I’m not going to sugar coat this portion. To be blunt, it was bad. Really, really bad. The “local” potatoes were covered in Miracle Whip with a dash of paprika. The best thing on the plate was the garnish. My egg salad wasn’t awful as long as I picked it off the “dark” bread which was some version of white masquerading as whole wheat. The navy bean soup was ripe with particles of ham. I realize I should have known this but I’m going to blame the distraction of the novel phone call ordering method. The best thing on the table was the buffalo burger. Tender, flavorful, not too gamey, but not as fresh as one would have hoped. The Wood House would be better off if it served wood. </span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW8jVpBw7jJg0JNWT8kEdgSeZdHPuRo8y_uNjLpAtx5MlQJpiwaQotwLE-N8EHtDlKd-2UA_sPAZaISWbG3ZLZ2zdwynmy9Rb2OnpZgVOUekfK87oj7AtDBbmAO3e67BYRDDh35RXAkRpW/s320/DSCN2600.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507693515051511554" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px; " /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It was a shotgun lunch. 18 minutes from the time of ordering to the time of exit. We were very happy to see the bag of olive tortilla chips awaiting us in the car. Food Should Taste Good the brand name on the bag proclaimed and we agree. </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I want to say that the evening ended with a meal that made up for all of the faults of the previous two but this is not what happened. We were eating dried apricots, more mixed nuts and Raw Revolution bars and pretty much anything else in the car that was edible. We got off at St. Cloud in an effort to find a warm meal and maybe some vegetables but all we found were big buildings none of which contained food. Michelle was whimpering about wanting nothing but a fresh, fruit smoothie but neither one of us even thought to stop at one of the 100s of McDonald’s that now advertise just such an item on their corn-infested menus. The only bright spot to this little diversion off the beaten path was the sighting of one of the largest most spectacular intact arc rainbow ever witnessed. And of course, at the end of our road was the smiling face of my friend, Annah who had for us in the kitchen of her apartment a luscious bowl of fresh fruit. </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Grateful for fruit in all colors of the rainbow,</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Jenna and Michelle </span></span></span></p>Jenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-75159397295736806712010-08-09T07:49:00.001-07:002010-08-09T07:53:22.983-07:00Somebody's getting hangry...<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiybN2ht4KupxF_L5pSc5y1xkrj4Q2T3v5VFwyTdF-pAetEmS0bjyd4jr9YZhUgwFTHLX3sP9kfnQhqVuWnPGWIY3taMdi4YVux0_1Td9awMDdjdt9RTrJtFWJJS3xWTrGlouF7jktkK3ww/s1600/DSCN2586.JPG"></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgupgbTeGZCLm6hyBFOP7K2lbCvkY5gdVih8IPuM-u2Xmhoa2pZWLo0rsMPJepin3Ktfw7EVPCD6-QYSLf2Jit22A3DALARLC0xuWKTp0XppCue9BEPMRH5sQ7Y7TTnBOzaa6KCXR9_NmM7/s1600/DSCN2577.JPG"></a><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Saturday, August 7th </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">After a night in the St. Regis Super 8 we headed east toward Miles City, MT where a KOA campsite awaited us. Our first stop was Missoula, a college town and the place we hoped would offer our first meal of the day. Guided by the map of the city obtained at our motel and our keen radar for palatable food we made a beeline for the University of Montana. Around here, we thought, there must be a satisfying and healthful breakfast. And we were right! We found the perfect place on the first try. Inside Justin’s Nob we found a vegetable-filled dish to which we added scrambled eggs and a slice of local bakery bread, toasted. AHHHH!!!!!! J*#&$*% C($%*$! Sorry for the interruption folks but Michelle nearly drove us off the road. Apparently cruise control makes her believe the car is on auto-pilot. I gently remind her that the Prius will not steer itself even if cruise control is enabled. There is still a certain amount of control that you must maintain. </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">As we were saying, this breakfast was the bee’s knees. Pardon my archaic expression but it was. Broccoli, zucchini, yellow squash, red bell peppers, and golden brown potatoes topped with eggs cooked to perfection and a fresh tomato salsa that nearly bowled us over. You think I’m exaggerating but I’m not. This was by far the best meal we’ve had on the road thus far and we made sure to tell the friendly and good-looking wait staff this fact. </span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgupgbTeGZCLm6hyBFOP7K2lbCvkY5gdVih8IPuM-u2Xmhoa2pZWLo0rsMPJepin3Ktfw7EVPCD6-QYSLf2Jit22A3DALARLC0xuWKTp0XppCue9BEPMRH5sQ7Y7TTnBOzaa6KCXR9_NmM7/s400/DSCN2577.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503422647514779314" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px; " /></span></span></span></span></p><div><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></span></span></div><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Even the cinnamon rolls were freshly baked each morning and this was enough to persuade us to take one to go. Justin’s Nob we salute you. We’ll happily come back to try your grilled tempeh sandwich next time we’re in Big Sky Country. </span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The cinnamon roll was consumed about 2 hours later at one of the most attractive rest stops you’ll find anywhere. I mean this place had individual fully-equipped bathrooms. Your bathroom experience was your own. Mine, incidentally, was punctuated by the flushing of the automatic toilet. Apparently people in Montana spend no more than 10 seconds on the commode. Outside the lavatories on a picnic table overlooking the vast expanse of beautiful nothingness that is Montana we bit into our sweet treat. It was dry and didn’t offer much in the way of flavor. The raisins inside were non-functional offering no discernible benefit. But for a snack that cost $1.50 (no sales tax in MT) it was worth it. </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">For approximately the next 6 hours we snacked on a few nuts, some figs, whatever we had in the front seat. Michelle smartly packed the food bag waaay in the back of our vehicle out of the reach of bored not hungry fingers. But by the time we hit Billings Michelle was looking a little peaked and was definitely getting hangry. If you aren’t familiar with the state of hanger. It can be defined as generally irritability caused by a lack of sustenance. But with Michelle “general irritability” is an understatement. I knew we needed to get her fed and fast. Surely, Billings, a larger town as indicated in red in our atlas, would offer a wealth of choices. </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The exit we took landed us in a bevy of large commercial strip malls. The only restaurant we found that was not a national chain was a Chinese establishment called the Jade Palace. I went in to use the bathroom while Michelle grabbed a menu. One look at her face when I walked back to the lobby and I knew we would not be eating here. But Michelle needed food so I soothed her savage appetite with a Raw Revolution bar, spirulina variety. A few quick bites and it was gone. </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">To prevent this blog entry from becoming a novel I’ll give just a quick synopsis of the rest of the night. After stealing some internet, we located a thai restaurant, eventually found it and ordered vegetarian egg rolls (which deceptively did not include the pumpkin advertised in the menu), a bowl of mushroom soup, and a plate of veggies and tofu in oyster sauce accompanied by brown rice. The soup was thin lacking the creamy coconut flavor we are used to, the egg rolls were generic, but the vegetable dish was simple and proved just what we needed at the time. </span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiybN2ht4KupxF_L5pSc5y1xkrj4Q2T3v5VFwyTdF-pAetEmS0bjyd4jr9YZhUgwFTHLX3sP9kfnQhqVuWnPGWIY3taMdi4YVux0_1Td9awMDdjdt9RTrJtFWJJS3xWTrGlouF7jktkK3ww/s320/DSCN2586.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503422917168333282" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px; " /></span></span></span></span></p><div><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></span></span></div> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The night ended on a high note when we were greeted at our campsite by a delightful young fellow named Jacob who kindly lent us tent stakes (since we couldn’t find ours) and helped us set up the tent in a jiffy. Thanks, Jacob. Enjoy Yellowstone. </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Wishing we were back in Justin’s Nob, </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Jenna</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Sunday, August 8th </span></span></span></p><div><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><br /></span></div>Jenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-27510525942228233642010-08-09T07:41:00.000-07:002010-08-09T07:48:56.366-07:00Some fermentation is best left to the professionals...<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjctR1OBcPT3D8U7MGvFtQtLatKZU-Gtclhdy6ut2dvPxXYvkUIWZKhfGqCQVKuUZ3MtvIqBwnaKuhl0dQa4xi8Lgi_GGSGQb3x0qQUwCJ-sRh6_9i-j1NdC-p5AzRACDOM3oWbm1aQXu0R/s1600/DSCN2562.JPG"></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Friday August 6th, 2010 </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Many people may be late to start the day because they sleep in past the alarm, get stuck in traffic, or have trouble getting the kids ready in time to meet the bus. Michelle and I are late because of breakfast. A simple bowl of oatmeal or slice of toast just doesn’t cut it when we prepare the most important meal of the day. This day was no different. In commemoration of a year of breakfasts in Seattle, for my (maybe) last one in the Emerald City, Michelle prepared what has become our usual fare. Steel-cut oats (though I prefer old-fashioned) cooked savory-style, which means with pastured butter and nutritional yeast. The grain is accompanied by a sautee of kale, onions, and garlic...lots of garlic. Finally, the whole dish is topped off with a fried-to-perfection golden-yolked farmers market chicken egg. A dash of salt and generous sprinkling of freshly ground pepper finishes off the meal. </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv2UKCQSYJVMxr3hy0jw7iBWbbZQ5ZuNeQ4j7fbSaHQnjD-pFdc87Yz0v8dQMgPV5bBd7DZfWIZr55cPCszHQBJCH5U1CwuJz6koNYz0JPgmd9gt55lg_Vw3SjDuoeDPXv6OOpgE9V2ymX/s320/DSCN2544.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503420790768181650" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px; " /></span></span></span></p><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"><br /></span></span></span></div><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">With a hearty breakfast digesting away, we packed up the car and pulled out of the driveway. Almost 2 hours later, we actually left the city of Seattle. If you area wondering what we were doing for all that time I’m not going to tell you. Not because it’s tawdry or salacious but rather boring. Our errands did, however, include 1 stop of the edible variety at Mighty-O Donuts. This vegan donut shoppe had been on our to-do list for some time but we never happened to find ourselves there even with a free donut with purchase coupon burning a whole in my pocket. With its circular structure the donut seemed the perfect metaphorical edible with which to toast our departure. But what variety?? Like every decision we’ve ever made about food this one took more than a few ticks of the minute hand on the Mighty-O clock. I was drawn to the Naked Cake donut for obvious reasons while Michelle leaned toward the chocolate enrobed chocolate species with a touch of peanuts for protein. The nutty addition was expected to help curb the rush of glucose into her bloodstream upon consumption of the sweet. This tactic proved unsuccessful as Michelle turned to me and said something to the effect of “ I can feel my blood boiling.” I “persuaded” Michelle to put the other halves of our donuts in a bag for later and we drove toward I-90 heading east. </span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPMN_-uxXhUgCTwa7LaSvaGr1T4Ehh-891dRyrYZUK3_zDU_2SMoguW_mZkw_U6HC1gO9uCQlPp8Z4EK2ptGuUpRF7EAxZf58BxD1g2dztHTpnCARGYgdlBdzGQujawBgJSb36awlIujR0/s320/DSCN2552.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503421177326500882" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px; " /></span></span></span></span></p><div><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">In Seattle it is, for the majority of meals, our goal to eat as local as possible...obtaining groceries at one of the many farmers markets or the local food co-op. For the duration of our road trip we aimed to eat more like the locals..whatever that might be. We eased into this approach, eating our first meal at a rest stop picnic table. For lunch we would consume edibles made and brought from home. This is what we brought: Sandwiches consisting of home-made chickpea tempeh, home-made sauerkraut, Bubbies pickle relish, mustard, and baked kale layered between 2 slices of allergen-free Olive Bread from Flying Apron Bakery as well as a jar of steamed beets in a balsamic vinaigrette made in Therapeutic Whole Foods cooking class a few days earlier. Incidentally, the beet dish is meant to support a woman’s menstrual cycle. We excitedly put the sandwiches together and bit into our handiwork. The taste was surprising to say the least. Our palettes quite used to the store bought mildly fermented tempeh were startled by the sharp, pungent flavor elicited by the wildly fermented (moldy, really) tempeh we prepared in the back storage area of the Branner’s studio. We tried to mask the organismal taste of the tempeh by adding some of the onions from the beet salad and though this succeeded in adding visually appeal to our food it did little for the palatability.</span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjctR1OBcPT3D8U7MGvFtQtLatKZU-Gtclhdy6ut2dvPxXYvkUIWZKhfGqCQVKuUZ3MtvIqBwnaKuhl0dQa4xi8Lgi_GGSGQb3x0qQUwCJ-sRh6_9i-j1NdC-p5AzRACDOM3oWbm1aQXu0R/s320/DSCN2562.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503421621054430002" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px; " /></span></span></span></span></p><div><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></span></span></div><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> As if this weren’t enough to make swallowing our lunch difficult, the kale leaves baked hours earlier had taken on a rubbery texture that required much more than the usual 30 bites before making it down the gullet. Kale gum comes to mind. Needless to say we were very thankful for the halves of Mighty-O donut we had saved from earlier as we desperately tried to rid our palettes of the unsavory flavor. </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Back on the road, a few hours later, we felt the need to nosh. Breaking into our snack bag for the first time we chose a banana, dried figs, and roasted nuts. As Michelle drove I gingerly placed one of every nut variety into her palm. This sparked a discussion about why hazelnuts are also called filberts. Why does a nut need 2 names? </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Later discussions brought about when consuming this mixture of brazil nuts, pecans, cashews, hazelnuts/filberts, and almonds included: Where do Brazil nuts grow? Does eating them help save the rainforest? Followed by a round of What’s your favorite nut? and What type of fat is in each nut? Are walnuts the only good source of omega-3 in the nut world? What about selenium? Zinc? Magnesium? You can see quickly where this was going. There’s a reason the dietitian I worked with in Hazleton General Hospital called her crew “the nutty bunch”.</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">It was clear to see that even though we were trying to be as open minded about the food we were eating as possible and not take it down to its nutrient composition actually doing this would prove nearly impossible. Case in point, dinner.</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">After our hearty lunch and subsequent snacks it was hard to imagine more that evening. For a moment we entertained the idea of stopping in Idaho for some potatoes and then in Kellogg, MT for some cereal. We chose the later, not for cereal of course, but because it was the closest exit and by that time we were hungry. Kellogg’s slogan, a town for every season, seemed promising and we were hopeful until we actually drove into town. Turns out, Aug 6-8 is reserved for a reunion for EVERY class that ever graduated from Kellogg High School. The local pub, Dirty Ernies was taken over by rowdy beer-drinking bunch and the only Chinese restaurant in town was occupied by members of the Class of 1958. Every other inch of Kellogg seemed deserted and we were ready to give up. Then we spotted the Moose Grill. A quaint white house with a wrap-around porch and a decidedly good-looking menu. </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Once inside, we were seated in a dark corner at a very oversized table. To make a long story short this is what we ordered: Huckleberry Lemonade, Garden Linguini in a sherry-garlic sauce, and fish tacos made with grilled Mahi Mahi. Sounds decadent, doesn’t it? And to be fair, it was all quite tasty. Sure drinking the lemonade made me feel like my teeth were going to rot out of my head with every sip and by the end of the meal we were convinced that the sauce on the tacos was merely Miracle Whip and some cayenne powder smeared on a partially-hydrogenated flour tortilla but we’ll forgive that and the fact that the linguini was literally drowning in oil. Check please! </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Getting back in the Prius we were greeted warmly by some crystallized ginger to help ease the impending digestive upset we were expecting. Luckily, we were wrong to suspect this result and woke up the next morning refreshed and ready for another day filled with eating on the road.</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Cruisin’ at 95, </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Jenna</span></span></span></p><div><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><br /></span></div>Jenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-83151398630002649632010-08-09T07:37:00.000-07:002010-08-09T07:41:27.512-07:00A New Beginning<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLTgDXnJYQKgDeeEgPd1roePF9o6ehriGvU_O23pb3N3K1pO-auDfZsWMuYLBwZ1XiC99wscgSHWShX1uQ2DcbEFnNE-KkMkcYArBlBkF0uo4KsDOlJ6clWCPdR-t31KBMEUqUECVY8Hzy/s1600/DSCN2585.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLTgDXnJYQKgDeeEgPd1roePF9o6ehriGvU_O23pb3N3K1pO-auDfZsWMuYLBwZ1XiC99wscgSHWShX1uQ2DcbEFnNE-KkMkcYArBlBkF0uo4KsDOlJ6clWCPdR-t31KBMEUqUECVY8Hzy/s200/DSCN2585.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503420102489012898" /></a><br /><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">In case you haven’t noticed I haven’t written a blog entry in quite some time. If this is the case, you haven’t been checking my blog with the fervor of commitment I require of all my readers (see Hungry Nutritionist Reader Bylaws) In all honesty, after the activity was no longer part of a class mandate, my motivation waned. But I am starting a new leg of this journey to achieve my RD and with this new beginning comes new enthusiasm for blogging! If you don’t believe this than would you believe that someone suggested it as a way of passing the time during the move across the country that this new leg necessitated. I do have other things to help me pass the time, or if not things, people and if not people than one person. Kindly accompanying me in this renewed blogging expedition is my girlfriend, Michelle. </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Michelle and I will be documenting our journey across this fine land of ours in the only manner that befits a trip to a dietetic internship, by photographing and talking about the food we eat ad nauseum. It is my intention to uphold this blog even after I have arrived at my destination and Michelle has flown off into the proverbial sunset, but I’m not promising anything. So, in the meantime, do come along with us. I liken this trip to a high quality chocolate bar, delectable and bittersweet. </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">With a full tank of gas and an empty stomach we begin...</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Jenna </span></span></span></p><div><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><br /></span></div>Jenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-75427833338301975652009-06-09T05:14:00.000-07:002009-06-11T03:29:23.561-07:00Banana Blog<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqNg2oHoKdktpIKP2cW0wG1vVwWLz5K9wQKooOTtO_VOm3p9SD8e3zRQ0G7GNZ0d2r4KF5BYYhiZzMtSGHDzhI2cMNIP56LHYQjCbEoeIzjPgACSzW4vV7_DKsnxgHKw0n99UwcIyDJn-3/s1600-h/DSCN2024.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 312px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqNg2oHoKdktpIKP2cW0wG1vVwWLz5K9wQKooOTtO_VOm3p9SD8e3zRQ0G7GNZ0d2r4KF5BYYhiZzMtSGHDzhI2cMNIP56LHYQjCbEoeIzjPgACSzW4vV7_DKsnxgHKw0n99UwcIyDJn-3/s400/DSCN2024.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345302428649761666" border="0" /></a><br />You may have noticed that my last two posts came without one of my oh so artistic photographs of food. This is for two reasons (1) after a recent school project I sort of burnt out on food photography (the above photo was included in that) and need a small break to recover my creative mojo and (2) because I haven't really been eating anything lately. Aside from the Indian meal I described in the previous posting (which I don't have a picture of because I never remember to bring my camera to restaurants and sometimes feel as though I will scare the kitchen staff into thinking I'm some sort of inspector if I start snapping photos of my dinner plate) I have eaten little of anything over the past 3 days. But there is one food that I never really have an aversion to even when my insides are rejecting every other edible product imaginable. And that food is the humble banana. Humble, yes, for the banana has many accolades to boast about. It's America's favorite fruit according to <a href="http://banana.com/">banana.com</a>. Apparently American's consume more of the sunny yellow fruit than apples and oranges combined.<br /><br />Turns out there's a lot about bananas I didn't know. Like the fact that the banana plant is not a tree at all..it's actually the world's largest herb! Crazy, right? And the American love affair with the banana actually began in my home state of Pennsylvania in 1876. Now, I haven't yet found the time to corraborate any of the facts I'm gleaning from the banana.com website but I will do a thorough fact check and edit as necessary, don't you worry.<br /><br />Until then I'll leave you with my favorite banana bread recipe so that you might prepare for National Banana Bread Day, February 23rd. This recipe comes from VeganMania! (that exclamation point is part of the title not an indicator of how excited I am about the recipe though it's pretty darn tasty):<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">1/2 cup brown rice syrup</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />1/2 cup canola oil</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />1 teaspoon vanilla</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />2 "eggs" ( I usually use an extra mashed banana or 1 tablespoon ground flax seed in 3<br />tablespoons of warm water)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">1 cup whole wheat flour</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />1/2 cup oats</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />1/4 cup cornmeal</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />1/4 cup wheat germ</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />1 teaspoon baking soda</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />1/4 teaspoon salt</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">1 cup mashed banana</span><br /><br />Preheat oven to 350 degrees.<br /><br />Combine brown rice syrup, oil, and vanilla in large bowl. Beat "egg" with whisk and add to wet ingredients. <br /><br />In separate bowl, mix together flour, oats, cornmeal, wheat germ, baking soda, and salt. Alternating with mashed banana, add dry ingredients to wet. <br /><br />Oil and flour loaf pan and fill with batter.<br /><br />Bake for 45-60 minutes until toothpick inserted in center of loaf comes out clean.<br /><br />Let cool on wire baking rack before removing from pan and serving.<br /><br />Go bananas!<br />JennaJenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-30707368849423521352009-06-07T22:05:00.001-07:002009-06-16T13:36:46.116-07:00Kentucky Fried AnythingEven when we aren't on any particular diet we do that to ourselves, don't we? We put different foods in little boxes labeled GOOD or BAD and as soon as we do we have to forcefully restrain ourselves from grabbing the BAD box and running off into the sunset with a load of Fried Chicken and Twinkies or maybe even a Fried Twinkie or a fried oreo or a fried Snickers bar..it's amazing what people are frying these days.<br /><br />What is our obsession with fried foods?<br /><br />I say "our" because I most certainly share this infatuation with things breaded and dipped in piping hot oil. Yesterday, I went out for Indian fare and ordered the vegetarian appetizer plate. Out came a glorious feast of fried flora. Rotund golden-brown samosas packed full of potato and peas and aromatic spices and then FRIED. Pakoras made of onions, potatoes and I believe some more peas, fragrant and delicious and FRIED. Finally something I hadn't had before and can't remember the name of, but I'm pretty sure it was mashed potato and peas formed into a pattie and then, you guessed it, FRIED. I'm surprised they didn't deep fry the bed of lettuce garnishing the plate. (Although to be truthful it probably would have made a prettier presentation as the iceberg greens were more than past their prime.) It was exactly what I wanted!<br /><br />After the 1st pakora and about half of the samosa was gone I was beginning to feel the effects of my oil-soaked dinner as it began to reach my stomach. It was as if my digestive system had forgotten what to do with such foods as it sees them so rarely. Sure I could have stopped right then and probably not suffered anything worse than mild indigestion but the allure of the fried food item was too strong. I treated myself to another pakora, polished off the samosa and worked my way through the potato pattie. With fried food it's easy to use the excuse.."it won't keep in the fridge", as the reason you leave the restaurant sans doggie bag, but even if that veggie pakora came out of the chill tomorrow just as crispy as it came out of the kitchen it wouldn't make it through the car ride home.<br /><br />What is it about fried foods? The answer lies in simple brain chemistry (is that an oxymoron?). Dr. David Kessler, former FDA chief, explains the phenomenon in his book "The End of Overeating". Here's a small taste...<br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Highly palatable" foods -- those containing fat, sugar and salt -- stimulate the brain to release dopamine, the neurotransmitter associated with the pleasure center, he found. In time, the brain gets wired so that dopamine pathways light up at the mere suggestion of the food, such as driving past a fast-food restaurant, and the urge to eat the food grows insistent. Once the food is eaten, the brain releases opioids, which bring emotional relief. Together, dopamine and opioids create a pathway that can activate every time a person is reminded about the particular food. This happens regardless of whether the person is hungry.</span></span><br /><br />Good thing that paragraph wasn't fried or you might just want to read the whole book...<br /><br />If you want a bit of a bigger taste here's an article about it: <a href="http://http//www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/04/26/AR2009042602711_3.html">Crave Man</a><br /><br /><br /><br />JennaJenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-24972539716908609692009-06-06T22:42:00.000-07:002009-06-07T22:10:20.904-07:00Elimination or Deprivation?It's been some time since I've written and this is mostly because I haven't eaten anything very memorable in awhile. You see I, like many a Bastyr nutrition student before me, embarked upon what is known as the Elimination Diet. This is not a diet in the traditional sense of restricting eating to promote weight loss but rather restricting eating to enable one to determine if there are particular foods causing unwanted physical symptoms like fatigue, GI distress, brain fog, headaches, etc. After eliminating all potential offenders for 2-3 weeks ideally the symptoms subside for a time and it is then that you systematically reintroduce the foods one at a time and observe for any adverse reactions. After 3 weeks without any wheat, soy, corn, peanuts, chocolate, or sugar I did learn one thing...one should not begin this type of diet without proper preparation. I mean making a comprehensive plan of meals and snacks with a corresponding trip to the grocery store to obtain the needed ingredients. Even the most die-hard kale and brown rice fan can get tired of these staple foods after 21 days of eating them for nearly every meal.<br /><br />Despite my nearly 2 years following what many would consider a fairly "restrictive diet" in standard American diet terms...I still convince myself that I can easily find necessary edibles no matter where I am. I tell myself as I head to a restaurant, a friend's house, the school cafeteria, "<span style="font-style: italic;">SURELY</span>, there'll be something I can eat." It wasn't until perhaps the 13th day of experiencing blurred vision, headaches, and no energy that I decided that I probably wasn't going about this particular dietary adventure in the healthiest way. So I stopped.<br /><br />It's amazing what kind of cravings pop up the minute you deny yourself a particular food. And the cruelest part of it all is that the minute you don't allow yourself soy or bread or corn they start to show up EVERYWHERE. Suddenly everything their serving in the cafeteria is made up the exact ingredients you have sworn off. BBQ tempeh calzones, soy sausage and pepper sandwiches. .... I bet you if I told myself tomorrow that I could no longer eat liverwurst I would immediately crave it and tomorrow in the Bastyr lunch line what do you think you'd find? <br /><br />With cravings,<br />JennaJenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-84488032245553339352009-05-31T11:40:00.000-07:002009-05-31T12:05:39.770-07:00SpinachYesterday it was hot and sunny here in Seattle. The sky was nearly devoid of cloud cover and there was little wind. A perfect day to be at the beach. Unfortunately, my increasingly frequent bouts of procrastination have left me with lots of projects to complete this weekend. So, alas, I was stuck in my apartment drawing pictures of the probiotic flora in the lower gastrointestinal tract.<br /><br />When my own GI alerted me that it was time to eat, I thought, if I can't be at the beach right now I might as well eat like I'm at the beach! And whenever I want to feel as though I'm at the beach, I make spinach. You see, I have never quite figured out how to get every last bit of dirt out of a fresh bunch of the stuff and when I bite down on a gritty piece of leafy spinach it's as if a gusty wind off the ocean just sprayed a lite mist of sand over my lovely picnic lunch. With every arenaceous morsel I can almost see the mosaic of beach towels and their formerly white occupants quickly becoming dangerously rubicund with UV exposure.<br /><br />So the next time you're stuck constructing informative display boards on the human digestive tract, treat your own with a generous helping of Popeye's favorite. Here's how I prepared it:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNXe7MzG1TZNGhdjaQOK3WHgmNE_0Yg48nGwkZ6WBM1ekH8g1AGOIkEwtIrAvvRNpmgSeeKGGUMRSm4-EaLmvPalk8rRiV3h_4WMOZzH-eS2CMmjhI-2n7r-nVVx2p4jpUSF8jbeBxvw5v/s1600-h/DSCN2064.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNXe7MzG1TZNGhdjaQOK3WHgmNE_0Yg48nGwkZ6WBM1ekH8g1AGOIkEwtIrAvvRNpmgSeeKGGUMRSm4-EaLmvPalk8rRiV3h_4WMOZzH-eS2CMmjhI-2n7r-nVVx2p4jpUSF8jbeBxvw5v/s400/DSCN2064.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342064093857319938" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Sauteed in olive and sesame oil with onions, garlic, thinly sliced sunchokes and burdock root.<br /></div><br /> Enjoy and wear your sunscreen!<br /><br /><br />Lounging on the "beach"...<br />JennaJenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-15715629250757227202009-05-25T19:58:00.000-07:002009-06-11T03:52:35.591-07:00Broiled Asparagus and One Night Stands<span style="font-size:85%;"><a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggjTvC2_xlalF7KygqafS50Lhz33LTzd4XSxxDeGZrSNjchw_c1mvAAfdHYx-a3w8PS1vC6y5pVj7C16fkW1esAIbulJ7jBlhFEVVvQkD2mjoAQFB7tGSPK7jjvjJaayLO4rhspO4PfRdq/s1600-h/DSCN1998.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 290px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggjTvC2_xlalF7KygqafS50Lhz33LTzd4XSxxDeGZrSNjchw_c1mvAAfdHYx-a3w8PS1vC6y5pVj7C16fkW1esAIbulJ7jBlhFEVVvQkD2mjoAQFB7tGSPK7jjvjJaayLO4rhspO4PfRdq/s400/DSCN1998.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339961742866298098" border="0" /></a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:85%;" ><p style="border-width: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 20px 10px; padding: 0px; text-align: left; outline-width: 0px; font-style: inherit; vertical-align: baseline;font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"> </span><br /></p></span>Now before you get your knickers in a twist, I'm not talking about what you think I'm talking about. Well, I am talking about broiled asparagus, but the other half of the title refers to a little tip I read at a great new website recently brought to my attention called, <a href="http://www.nourishthis.com">Nourish This</a>. Here, Kristin O'Connor says the following:<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Most of us are accustomed to making a big pot of rice and saving it for the next day...or week. Either that or we get more takeout than we need for leftovers the next day. However, putting rice in the fridge after it has been cooked (especially fried rice) is like cultivating bacteria in a petri dish! Of course you can eat reheated rice and be find, but reheating greatly increases your chance of getting a nasty bacterial infection in your digestive tract...so for me I have decided rice is only good as a "one night stand!"</span></span><br /><br /><br />I had never realized that my more long-term relationship with rice could cause such a problem. Come to think of it I have been feeling rather ill recently. That is how I came to concoct the meal you see above. At the time, all that seemed palatable were potatoes. So...I started putting some in a pan when I thought about the piece of yam left over from last night's stir-fry. And there was some burdock in the fridge next to the yam that I thought would want to join the party. When I ventured into the produce drawer to retrieve the latter ingredients I was greeted by a bundle of asparagus looking anxious to be broiled.<br /><br />If you have not had asparagus prepared in this manner, you have not had asparagus! Just crank that oven up to "broil" and pop in the lightly oiled green spears until you can smell their outermost layers getting singed by the heat. The result is a succulent bite of green goodness...crispy on the outside and tender on the inside. At this point, I don't recommend adulterating your asparagus with pan-fried root vegetables, garlic, scallions, salt, pepper, and nutritional yeast as I did. The asparagus is much tastier in its virginal state. <br /><br />And now, after reading the above disclaimer about rice, I DO NOT RECOMMEND topping your meal off with a generous helping of rice you made last week (as I preceded to do). I'll let you know tomorrow if my long-term relationship with the grain has left me as many a committed relationship has...in a whole lot of pain. <br /><br /><br />Here's to <span style="font-style: italic;">some </span>one-night stands,<br />JennaJenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-65440182809856688312009-05-20T21:37:00.000-07:002009-05-20T22:17:17.403-07:00Balanced<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlSJZu4lmrpAmS5IKcrIbMGQigVIZ__ddpcez3UOGcqNV3NigZVoLsWAYhk37RMYoAWAwAPnmHXDClXLXs5TUCsYnkrkfIENuLkqpepQhMEjnPlH9qs7_DOfVax9Rxgs1R7GCz6ukImyOy/s1600-h/DSCN1995.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlSJZu4lmrpAmS5IKcrIbMGQigVIZ__ddpcez3UOGcqNV3NigZVoLsWAYhk37RMYoAWAwAPnmHXDClXLXs5TUCsYnkrkfIENuLkqpepQhMEjnPlH9qs7_DOfVax9Rxgs1R7GCz6ukImyOy/s400/DSCN1995.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338131915413777426" border="0" /></a><br />Today was one of those rare days where everything was just...balanced. I slept for a few hours after my alarm went off but I was still very productive and not rushed. I had a very calm breakfast: a simple rice tortilla spread with homemade cashew butter, a few figs, and a drizzle of maple syrup. Satisfyingly sweet but not sugary and with a touch of richness that wasn't too heavy. <br /><br />There wasn't much time to eat during the middle of the day, but (if you can believe it) I wasn't overly hungry. I worked out in the late afternoon and walked back to my apartment as the temperature was warm enough to make me sweat a little but not hot enough to make me dread the steep hill at the end of the journey. <br /><br />Getting home around 5:30, I had ample time to cook dinner but not enough time that I found myself voracious before it was all ready to eat. In a manner very unlike me, I actually planned what I would cook before I stepped into the kitchen. My strategy was to dice some yam and red onion and coat them with some olive oil and curry spices (I used a boxed blend of about a dozen spices). I then roasted them in a 375 degree oven. To the onion/yam mixture I added some black beans (canned) that I heated with a bit of coconut butter that I thought would complement the curry spiced vegetables. My base would be quinoa and my side some steamed rainbow chard that I gently splashed with umeboshi vinegar before serving. To round out the dish I added some avocado, halved, lichen-green flesh scooped out with a spoon. <br /><br />In a bizarre twist of fate, the meal came out just as I had designed it in my head. Before me lay the makings of a balanced vegetarian meal: grain, plant protein, sweet root vegetable, green vegetable, and healthy source of fat. So this is what it feels like to lead a balanced life!, I thought. I didn't feel compelled to multitask while eating, and I was actually hungry because I hadn't filled up on munchies before sitting down to my meal. Everything felt different and I was exquisitely happy and proud of myself.<br /><br />As I placed the first bite into my mouth I wasn't even disappointed when the yam was boring, the onion burnt, and the swiss chard bland. Whatever my meal was not, it <span style="font-style: italic;">was </span>balanced.<br /><br /><br />With satisfaction,<br />JennaJenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-5478497612761019942009-05-18T20:05:00.000-07:002009-05-18T20:49:09.277-07:00Meditating on Mustard Greens<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmC8Qc_OrV7zG2k6uMGO69zMLj6Z6SXhv6fl9kKyZ3TmfA111JOUdLfifudTmZdsuKxqCs4aL0MBKZPnp57jIHBUA-MN7cptYceT5a3KM-5mX8CYoyYP_0_Eff2-lKmZR2XqcC9FWIS572/s1600-h/DSCN1987.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 378px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmC8Qc_OrV7zG2k6uMGO69zMLj6Z6SXhv6fl9kKyZ3TmfA111JOUdLfifudTmZdsuKxqCs4aL0MBKZPnp57jIHBUA-MN7cptYceT5a3KM-5mX8CYoyYP_0_Eff2-lKmZR2XqcC9FWIS572/s400/DSCN1987.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337366768202462770" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" ><br />"Mustard greens are leaves from varieties of brown mustard that have been selected for their foliage rather than their seeds. Their texture is more delicate than that of cabbage. They're often quite pungent in the fashion of seed mustard, but are usually cooked, which may leave them mild and cabbage-like or intensely bitter, depending on the variety. </span>" - Harold McGee in <span style="font-style: italic;">On Food and Cooking</span><br /><br />I'm tempted to make some sort of esoteric comment from that passage on the mustard green. Something to the effect of...when we find ourselves in the big frying pan of life (i.e. "being cooked") we can choose to become mild and cabbage-like or intensely bitter. But I'll refrain and just stick to the less abstruse concept of cooking this beautiful bouquet of <span style="font-style: italic;">Brassica</span>.<br /><br />Drawn to the viridian plumage of this vegetable while shopping at PCC several days ago I only paused for a moment to ponder two questions: Do I like mustard greens and if I do, how do I cook them? Having no definitive answer to either query I placed the colorful crucifer into my cart and continued shopping.<br /><br />When it came time to consume the mustard greens I tasted a bit raw and was taken aback by the commanding bitterness that filled my mouth. With great alarm I thought ,if cooking could make these even more bitter (as Harold indicated) how could I ever eat them? I rushed to the cookbook shelf looking for a clue as to how one might turn these greens into something edible. No answers were found there. I then consulted one of my favorite sources when faced with the dilemma of how to cook any vegetable. <a href="http://www.writerguy.com/deb/recipes/keyingred.html">Debbie.</a> I'm not sure who Debbie is but from what I gather she farms and runs a CSA. This woman has the most comprehensive database of vegetable recipes that I've come across. You can search by recipe or read her newsletters about different items in this week's CSA. Go Debbie!<br /><br />Though I found several mouth-watering descriptions of recipes that could include mustard greens, I didn't have many of the ingredients and wasn't in the mood to do a lot of improvisation. So I resorted to simply braising my mustard greens as I would any green that has the privilege of occupying my vegetable drawer. I sliced half an onion, very thinly and placed it in some heated olive oil. Once the onions were slightly browned, I chopped up the mustard greens and put those in, stirring to coat with the oil. At this point I would typically add some mirin and some tamari, however, I'm not consuming soy right now so I did mirin alone. I put the lid on and waited a few minutes for the greens to wilt but keep their color. At that point I took them out of the pan and put them in a large bowl with a dash of umeboshi vinegar to finish.<br /><br />In the end, the mustard greens reacted to my treatment mostly mild and cabbage-like.<br /><br />How would you react?<br /><br />Munching on Mustard Greens,<br />Jenna<br /></div>Jenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-72458478115022299252009-05-15T20:47:00.000-07:002009-05-15T21:18:52.967-07:00Cooking for Real, Part DeuxWithout further ado, I present the conclusion of "Cooking for Real" ....<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyzeW4XDXm4bQDXTBK4tyiTDOOwFnE9m5txV965gKzQQFCAlSZvwkzUPIgHkFVwq1BXXQgjOTnGeVOb992cOtSBUg9npF6r4pvVQnNe33421vqAnGucrglZAdzwnMnpL7Lf6wjX-GAGfxz/s1600-h/DSCN1979.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyzeW4XDXm4bQDXTBK4tyiTDOOwFnE9m5txV965gKzQQFCAlSZvwkzUPIgHkFVwq1BXXQgjOTnGeVOb992cOtSBUg9npF6r4pvVQnNe33421vqAnGucrglZAdzwnMnpL7Lf6wjX-GAGfxz/s400/DSCN1979.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336264295409593346" border="0" /></a>Voila! Sauteed Broccoli Italian-Style! Unfortunately, the cooking process was done in the late evening so I didn't get to try it that night but the next day it made a lovely accompaniment to the Millet with Walnut Pesto and a side of Roasted Yam and Sunchokes with rosemary. Turns out my hunch about millet and pesto was right. They taste fabulous together. The richness of the pesto makes a big statement over the subtle tones of the simple grain. <br /><br />Here they are all together right before becoming my dinner...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbmazLYNDd_Id56TTMegkpZdZjRpkjkbmVu0CUdUSDX2r4YLlbTmRr3UZjPRT_LGp9p4o41M3OQ_Vz4Xor0EVw_yu5g9NdgSBstFdV6gh_7dV2kmmyEDLe7ZgYlsnyzD3tl0zF-SkSuS2U/s1600-h/DSCN1983.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 370px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbmazLYNDd_Id56TTMegkpZdZjRpkjkbmVu0CUdUSDX2r4YLlbTmRr3UZjPRT_LGp9p4o41M3OQ_Vz4Xor0EVw_yu5g9NdgSBstFdV6gh_7dV2kmmyEDLe7ZgYlsnyzD3tl0zF-SkSuS2U/s400/DSCN1983.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336266427732762162" border="0" /></a>If I've learned anything from the past 2 blogs it is that I was a fool for thinking I could get by in the kitchen without a cookbook once in awhile ( or all the time). It's like getting rid of training wheels after only riding the bike for 5 minutes, or jumping into the deep end of a swimming pool during your first lesson without those attractive orange "floaties" on your arms (did anyone else's parents make them wear those at the public pool?). And in some ways it's really not like either of those analogies because even when you consider yourself a pro in the kitchen it's always nice to know where you can turn for some inspiration, a friendly suggestion, or a gentle reminder. Cookbooks are like angels that lift you up when your wings forget how to fly...or is that friends, or RedBull. No, RedBull gives you wings. I wonder how RedBull would taste with pesto...<br /><br />Happy Recipe Hunting,<br />Jenna<br /><br />P.S. Here is the inspiration I used for the broccoli dish.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Italian Style Sauteed Broccoli</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Makes 4 or 5 servings</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Spring or filtered water</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">1 head broccoli, cut into small florets, stems peeled and thinly sliced</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">2 or 3 cloves fresh garlic, minced</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">1 onion, diced</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Sea salt</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">4 or 5 button mushrooms, brushed clean and thinly sliced</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">1 oe 2 tomatoes, diced (do not seed or peel)</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Cracked black pepper</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Bring a large pot of water to a boil over high heat. Add broccoli and cook until bright green but not completely tender, about 3 minutes. Drain well and set aside.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Heat oil in a skillet over medium heat. Add garlic, onion, and a pinch of salt and cook, stirring, until onion is wilted and translucent, 5 minutes. Add mushrooms and a pinch of salt and cook, stirring, 2 or 3 minutes. Add tomatoes, season lightly with salt and pepper and stir well. Cover and simmer 10 to 15 minutes. Remove cover and stir in broccoli. Simmer, uncovered, 2 or 3 minutes. Serve hot.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">From Cooking the Whole Foods Way by Christine Pirello, Penguin 2007.</span></span><br /></div>Jenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-77939275790508448432009-05-12T21:00:00.000-07:002009-05-12T21:45:44.857-07:00Cooking For RealI'm going to cook something.<br /><br />Right now.<br /><br />No, really I am. And you, lucky reader, get to follow me through the entire process. Aren't you excited?<br /><br />I've taken stock of my ingredients. Broccoli, jerusalem artichokes, red lentils, millet, sweet brown rice, leftover pesto, 1 brown rice tortilla, 2 yams, some yellow onions, and some garlic.<br /><br />For a change of pace, I'm going to endeavor to use an actual recipe so the final product is something I actually want to eat.<br /><br />Let me just dust off these cookbooks...<br /><br />There we go. Now to find the perfect recipe that works with what I have on hand.<br /><br />I'm pretty hungry though. While I leaf through this book, let me get out some granola to snack on. Ok, where was I. <br /><br />Here's a recipe for Italian-style Sauteed Broccoli. I'm Italian (4th generation, but who's counting?) I could probably pull that off. Great! What should I have with that? My people would probably make some pasta but I don't really eat pasta. How about some millet? With the leftover pesto....that could be interesting. Let's do it!<br /><br />Ok first step. Let's get that millet going. I like to toast my millet before cooking it so let's do that. I'm putting one cup of millet into my stainless steel pot on medium heat. While I'm stirring that with one hand. I'm going to chop up my head of broccoli into "small florets". <br />And in go the 2 cups of water for the millet along with a pinch of salt. I've covered that pot and am now waiting for the water to...and it's boiling! Be right back.<br /><br />My broccoli has been floretted and is now steaming for about 2 minutes. And the 2 minutes is up! Just a second, please. Alright the millet is now simmering on a low heat. That will be going on for about 20 minutes so I have time to take a breather...oops, the broccoli! Ow! That steamer basket is hot! <br /><br />Alright this is far too complicated. I'll catch you up on the rest in the next blog...<br /><br />Still cooking,<br />JennaJenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-2050142223662615742009-05-10T12:21:00.000-07:002009-05-10T12:48:53.952-07:00All Good Things<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgTEyGDF5DQGcsFTqBBWAKaaCPq-AZG0yhxIumPG4S4XgNu8iR9ZAPR5_f-37LiZNTsPxYgUabpHwuVxdLx7uzIkT56N5qiwdnO2VT1FqOxbXOpXAB2KdTivdB84_VFi-VmIXTS-YnDJ78/s1600-h/DSCN1961.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgTEyGDF5DQGcsFTqBBWAKaaCPq-AZG0yhxIumPG4S4XgNu8iR9ZAPR5_f-37LiZNTsPxYgUabpHwuVxdLx7uzIkT56N5qiwdnO2VT1FqOxbXOpXAB2KdTivdB84_VFi-VmIXTS-YnDJ78/s400/DSCN1961.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334284565611417730" border="0" /></a><br />My grandmother used to say about her food..."of course it's good..I put all good things in it". At least I think it was one of my grandmothers who said that. Maybe it was something from the Golden Girls. My grandmother looked an awful lot like Betty White, it's a common mistake.<br />Regardless of who said it first, I have tried to apply this theory to my own cooking. And I've come to the conclusion that one can only say such a thing when the food is tasty. My concoctions lately haven't exactly fallen under that category...<br /><br />For instance, the other night I was in the grocery store very late because I was assisting with a cooking class there. I thought I would pick up a few ingredients before I headed home. Not the best idea...it was super late, I was exhausted, and I had a really full bladder that was crying out to me as I hurriedly weaved through the shelves of various food products. I tossed some swiss chard, some yams, and brown rice tortillas in my cart and veered toward the check-out. On my way something caught my eye, a large jar of sauerkraut. How a large jar of pale strands of fermented cabbage catches one eye I don't know but, trust me, it did. As I held the product in my hand thoughts of pork and hot dogs rushed to my mind. Images of pork and hot dogs came to mind, neither of which are in my current dietary repertoire. Nevertheless, not knowing at all what I would do with sauerkraut, I paid for it and my other groceries and rushed to my car with my bladder still screaming at me to get home. I went to bed promptly after arriving back at my apartment without giving the odd purchase of the evening another thought.<br /><br />The next morning I began to assemble my breakfast wrap, bored of the usual yam, kale, bean combination I searched my cupboards for something...different. Instead of kale...swiss chard. Instead of black/pinto beans...hummus. Instead of yam...at this point, I couldn't think of anything to replace that with so I put some yam into the mix per usual. It was then that I came across the sauerkraut. I did a quick assessment of the ingredients so far. They're all good I thought...so if I put all good things in my wrap surely it could become nothing else but a summation of all the goodness of which it was composed.<br /><br />The culmination of that thinking is shown above. And though it made a pretty picture, the end result was anything but good.<br /><br />Wishing you all good things,<br />JennaJenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-16501175873804327652009-05-04T22:01:00.000-07:002009-05-04T22:40:22.853-07:00A Journey, Not A Destination<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV-zzlMMyaoGz2SP_KCBhPODWoxUfRbVGyRtdCqZ_e26V9WNqBtgZ-gnTT2IreKSo-X0PlXv-cAEHVfpjM5Y-vb34DQcOk-8H_IXCuD5YSf0hwB0aGDg85Iu5Qi6r3qcxHelUDO1ESrnPT/s1600-h/DSCN1953.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV-zzlMMyaoGz2SP_KCBhPODWoxUfRbVGyRtdCqZ_e26V9WNqBtgZ-gnTT2IreKSo-X0PlXv-cAEHVfpjM5Y-vb34DQcOk-8H_IXCuD5YSf0hwB0aGDg85Iu5Qi6r3qcxHelUDO1ESrnPT/s400/DSCN1953.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332200894154519378" border="0" /></a>This was one of the three pictures alluded to in the previous post...it doesn't have a whole lot (or anything) to do with what I wanted to write about but it's a relatively picturesque scene so I thought I'd share it with you...<br /><br />In this post I really wanted to address the point that was very astutely pointed out by my sister who began reading my blog recently. (Hey, sis!) In no uncertain terms she stated that I wasn't really doing what I had set out to do way back at post numero uno. As she is about many things, my sister is right. I haven't cooked a bean and the only thing that's grown during these past few weeks is my frustration with myself over what I do or do not eat. <br /><br />When my foray into the world of whole foods began about 5 or 6 years ago. I've always held to the notion that one day I'll be a paragon of nutritious eating. Not a speck of processed food nor a grain of refined sugar will pass my lips and all my meals will reflect a perfect balance of taste, colors, and nutrients. My kitchen counters will be adorned with shiny glass jars filled with grains and legumes of all shapes and sizes and my refrigerator bursting with a palette containing every color of the vegetable rainbow. A set of gleaming stainless steel pots and pans will hang expectantly from above the gas range ready to be filled with the makings of another wholesome meal. Sadly, as I write this, my grains and beans are piled neglectfully in a dark cabinet next to the electric stove. Aside from the leftovers from a recent potluck (that I didn't cook for) and the remains of a can of diced tomatoes my refrigerator is a blank canvas. I own one stainless steel pot that has probably grown weary of waiting for anything more than the occasional cup of quinoa. <br /><br />At times like these I like to remind myself of something Bob Costas, sportscaster and speaker at my undergraduate commencement, credited Oprah Winfrey, talk-show host and cover girl of every issue of O magazine, with saying: "Life is a journey, not a destination."<br /><br />Maybe I'll never become that whole food maven of my dreams. So what? The important thing is to not become complacent. To keep exploring and questioning. To keep experimenting with new ways of doing things until you find something that works for you at that time. Maybe for now I'm meant to be eating most of my meals at the Bastyr cafeteria and scarfing down meals of asparagus and oatmeal on the rare occasion I do decide to feed myself at home. I'm not totally convinced of that, but it beats sitting here and blogging about how great a failure I am because I'm eating beans from a can and buying food grown by someone else. <br /><br />Journey on.<br /><br />JennaJenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-45832091720288714052009-05-04T20:57:00.001-07:002009-05-04T21:59:06.145-07:00Cliff Bars, Cashews, and Capers<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjWkWA3HfV7_q4sHuyDHj7G504xLKN6PgL6Vy-vxKnRGhqNi1rWC9RGbZYxmKCo2os4KqFsPEdrpvKGfifNFvan13CWxIRaltyNJF-OqC5ZLVvdy6hidJHOUp4FPEmuqBzcROLvJ_SYyXT/s1600-h/DSCN1955-1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 371px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjWkWA3HfV7_q4sHuyDHj7G504xLKN6PgL6Vy-vxKnRGhqNi1rWC9RGbZYxmKCo2os4KqFsPEdrpvKGfifNFvan13CWxIRaltyNJF-OqC5ZLVvdy6hidJHOUp4FPEmuqBzcROLvJ_SYyXT/s400/DSCN1955-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332187023927040434" border="0" /></a>This weekend I was fortunate enough to join some fellow budding dietitians on a journey to our Canuk-loving northern neighbor for a conference on "fetal programming". (Can you picture the look on the border patrol's face when we told him that one?) I was excited about the prospects this trip would hold for my blog which had seemed a bit stagnant lately. I packed my camera ready to take loads of pictures and make poignant observations about the eating habits of 9 nutrition students with about as many different food allergies/intolerances among them. Unfortunately, my camera decided to lose power after just 3 photos, all of which were of the tulip festival we stopped at on the way up. I took the above picture when I got back to my apartment. Though it contains little in the way of aesthetics it does depict my food moods and experiences during my brief sojourn to Vancouver, BC.<br /> Exhibit A: Half of a Black Cherry Almond Cliff Bar<br /> Ah, the vegan traveler's best friend, the Cliff Bar. I really used to fawn over the dense, chewy square of oats, soy, and rice puffs suspended in a brown rice syrup mold. I'm not sure what I was thinking. Aside from the occasional crunch of nut these rectangular meal substitutes are a gummy, homogeneous blob. The brown rice syrup content is so great it's a bit like eating a caramel or some Laffy Taffy without the perk of a free joke. On both occasions upon consuming only half of the Cliff Bar I experienced a serve hypoglycemic event about 30-60 minutes afterwards. My conclusion is that, though the Cliff Bar might be ideal for people like those depicted on the wrappers, busy scaling large geological structures, I do not recommend them for the not so arduous task of sitting in a conference room for 8 hours.<br /><br /> Exhibit B: Cashews<br /> These lovelies came from the bulk section at a delightful little Co-op in Mount Vernon, WA. Organic and full of delicious fat, these babies were the perfect accompainment on a day of conferencing. I had been craving fat all weekend. I have to constantly remind myself that because I don't consume the two major sources of lipid in the typical diet: meat and dairy I have to work just a little harder to get my bodily needs for this macronutrient met. Nuts are a great way of doing just that and cashews are quickly becoming my favorite. When chewed they elicit a creamy sweetness that when joined harmoniously with a bit of salt yield a perfect symphony of flavors. If you haven't yet tried the fresh roasted cashews sold at Pike Place Market for $6.00/lb, I implore you to do so at your earliest convenience. It is simply nut Nirvana.<br /><br /> Exhibit C: Bohemian Veg Sandwich from Capers<br /> <span style="font-style: italic;"> bohemian</span> -noun (usually lowercase)<span class="labset"> </span>a person, as an artist or writer, who lives and acts free of regard for conventional rules and practices.<br /> I'm not exactly sure why the good people at Capers grocery decided to name this sandwich the Bohemian Veg, but after experiencing one during the second day of the conference I can say the moniker fits the 'wich perfectly. The traditional mold for vegetarian sandwiches everywhere: hummus, lettuce, the occasional sprout, a tomato or two, perhaps a smear of Vegannaise was shattered with this one. There was just enough of the typical (hummus, tahini, baby greens) to fool you but between the bread, like its namesake, this sandwich had blatant disregard for conventional vegetarian sandwich rules and practices. Under the marinated artichoke hearts there was a concoction that's deep red hue only hinted that it must contain tomato. On the label it was written humbly as "veg pate" but my guess is that's only because they couldn't fit "amazingly robust, knock-your-socks-off flavorful, zesty, savory, you'll-want-another-sandwich-before-you're-even-more-than-one-bite-through-the-first-one veg pate".<br />Anyone up for a trip to Vancouver this weekend?<br /> <br />Only mildly happy to be back in the states,<br />JennaJenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-32107378880464507862009-04-27T22:21:00.000-07:002009-04-27T22:59:10.439-07:00Culinary CounselingI really like to cook. But, as is the case with most things I really like to do, I don't participate in the activity very often. I mean this is the whole premise of this blog, right, so if what I just wrote was news to you, you have a few posts to catch up on. <br /><br />Just about an hour ago I decided to prepare some food for the morning. Nothing exciting, some cumin-scented quinoa and yam for a breakfast burrito similar to the one described in a previous posting. During the process of chopping up some onion and garlic, for a brief moment, I wasn't thinking about anything but chopping up some onion and garlic. In that moment I realized why I haven't been cooking for myself lately (as in the last 10 months). Cooking prevents me from doing anything else. There may be chefs out there who can successfully multi-task, but I am not one of them. When I am in the midst of preparing a meal I can get totally lost in the dicing, the slicing, the sauteeing, the steaming, the broiling, the baking. And what do I have to show for this 30-60 minutes of committment to food and utensil? A result that only benefits me. Unless, of course, the meal turns out wretchedly in which case it doesn't benefit anyone. Maybe if I had a dog or some other pet or even a roommate with a less discerning palatte than my own than at least some good would come out of it...<br /><br />But in reality, it's just me and when I cook its purely for my own benefit. Two years ago, I lived in San Francisco with 5 other volunteers. We took turns manning (or womanning as the case may be) one of 2 kitchens to create culinary delights (I use the term loosely) for the enjoyment and nourishment of our housemmates. The days I was in charge of dinner someone had to nearly pry the wooden spoon from my hand. Granted the menus I came up with were typically overly ambitious and the meal was often late getting to the table. Still, I enjoyed every last minute in that kitchen because I knew that when the smoke cleared (our oven had a tendency to burn things) I would be able to present this food, this gift to nurture 5 other humans. <br /><br />Cooking for myself feels indulgent...<br /><br />(At the moment so does writing this blog when I have a dozen other assignments to work on so I'll pause for a brief interlude...more later)<br /><br />From the psychiatrist's couch,<br />JennaJenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-31716549919269936232009-04-24T19:17:00.000-07:002009-04-24T20:43:10.023-07:00Not HungryI haven't been very hungry these past few days. Don't worry, I'm not going to have to change my blog title. The descriptor "hungry" in the title is much more complex than simply the urge for sustenance from food it refers to my appetite for knowledge, for balance, for a new way of eating in America, and so many other things that don' t even relate to food directly. How did you not get that?<br /><br />As I was saying, I haven't been hungry for the past few days. This hasn't stopped me from eating and I can't say I've even consumed less this week than I would any other. It is pretty evident that I don't really listen to my hunger. In fact, since college my hunger and I have had a rather rocky relationship. Even before early adulthood I'm not sure I ever paid very much attention to my hunger. Growing up in an upper-middle class Italian-American household meant that food was never in short supply. My mother prepared home-cooked food at regular meal times and did her best to keep sugary cereals and soda to a minimum so the food environment was a healthy one. I had no reason to think that my hunger wouldn't always be satisfied with minimal effort. Thus, I paid it little mind. As was usually the case, I would eat when food was presented to me whether my hunger dictated it or not. So, as I said, before college I didn't pay much attention to my hunger.<br /><br />This changed during my freshman year. Whether it was my own body image insecurities or a need for some control in a time of great flux, I began to eat less frequent and smaller meals. Soon my hunger began to speak up and I had a harder time ignoring it. I remember going to bed while my hunger screamed at me, "Get up and eat something!." Though I could have easily gone to the small fridge in my dorm and quieted my hunger with a snack, I chose not to and I enjoyed the control I had over my hunger. Over the next year, I fought hard against my hunger but as I entered sophomore year of college my hunger won the battle. I began to eat more frequently and larger portions and my hunger was usually satisfied. However, the fight with my hunger is far from over and, though I listen to it more now than in the past, our relationship remains a tumultuous one.<br /><br />Often I find myself angry with my hunger because it interferes when I'm trying to do schoolwork or exercise or when it decides to show up just as I enter my favorite co-op with an empty grocery cart. At other times, I wait in great anticipation for my hunger to arrive only to get angry when my hunger doesn't show up at restaurants or is late for a date with a plate of freshly baked (vegan) brownies. When my hunger does appear, I get upset when it doesn't stay long enough for me to enjoy that second helping of piping hot cornbread smeared with honey.<br /><br />Still our relationship isn't all negative. I do appreciate how my hunger reminds me of another opportunity to nourish my body and tantalize my taste buds with a new edible experience. When I really stop to listen to it, I find that my hunger leads me to a meal that satisfies me nutritionally, emotionally, and sensually. If only I could learn to listen to it more often. <br /><br /><br />In satiety, JennaJenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-40135010761714945312009-04-20T21:41:00.000-07:002009-04-20T22:30:04.302-07:00Getting Back to the Table, Part III<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn4p-SM8ATz1mwc_VVpw_lR6VTos0ax5ipGZzCSVLXSrXwD_zV_1fWvqAMSQriLbGHqVwuZmlxoZl7T3jOdUMcBPiS_H9tSjYiW2etdZIMIMnYa_KevJPlfpnC-97WOAs9W-c_MQn73OkK/s1600-h/DSCN1943.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn4p-SM8ATz1mwc_VVpw_lR6VTos0ax5ipGZzCSVLXSrXwD_zV_1fWvqAMSQriLbGHqVwuZmlxoZl7T3jOdUMcBPiS_H9tSjYiW2etdZIMIMnYa_KevJPlfpnC-97WOAs9W-c_MQn73OkK/s400/DSCN1943.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327000487286961282" border="0" /></a><br />Bring in the crepe!<br /><br />I should preface this blog entry by stating that I've been a rather strict vegan for nearly 2 years. I alluded to the reasons behind this in a previous post but the root of it was for my health. I had been diagnosed with the GI world's favorite umbrella term for anything that ails ya, IBS and as directed by some website on the subject I set out to rid my diet of all the most common trigger foods: spicy food, fried food, meat, dairy, etc. With meat and dairy out of my diet it wasn't long before eggs and fish followed and, voila! I was vegan. Over the past two years I have felt better about my dietary choices. On a teleological level, the vegan diet makes sense to me. Consumption of dairy, in my opinion, is counter-evolutionary and I don't want to eat meat/eggs from an immoral and environmentally toxic industry as is the case in the US. <br /><br />However, the vegan way of eating hasn't really done wonders for my health. I don't feel worse by any means but I don't feel better either. I'm still plagued with GI issues and my energy level isn't always where I'd like it to be regardless of amount of physical activity and other factors. Lately, this fact and the idea perpetuated by my Bastyr education that I'm suddenly deficient in B12, iron, and several other essential nutrients has gotten me reevaluating what I'm eating or rather what I'm not eating. <br /><br />To this end, and as futher evidence that I could participate in a normal social gathering where food is involved, I went out for crepes! What a grand experience it was. Accompanied by two of my closest friends (one of which made the accusatory remarks that started this venture) I went to <a href="http://http://www.seattlepi.com/food/340587_eat23.html">Saley </a> in Capitol Hill and enjoyed not one but two of these French delicacies. The first was a savory delight. A crunchier version of the airy egg-including pastry acted like a shell encasing creamy avocado, pink (is it just me or have you not had a good tomato since 1972?) tomato, and bright spinach. The only downfall was the unexpected dousing of the above ingredients in a "special crepe sauce". Not only did this ruin my only egg rule by including yogurt in the dish but it added a creamy redundancy to the richness offered by the avocado. That aside, the crepe was just great! What made it better was that I could watch the whole crepe-making process from my table. It's always a treat to see a restauranteur devoted to her craft lovingly create your lunch right in front of your eyes. The meal was topped off by a sweet crepe, the much more silken variety I was used to, spread delicately with strawberry jam and folded over itself to form the familiar crepe triangle. Every bite melted in my mouth. A mouth that was grinning widely even now, 2 days later, thinking about how good it was to be back at the table!<br /><br />Note of thanks...I'd like to give a shout out to a blogger peer of mine who's blog has reminded me of the importance of getting out of my head and into my stomach a bit more. Maybe <a href="http://bratwurstandkale.blogspot.com">bratwurst and kale</a> isn't far off?<br /><br />Peace,<br />JennaJenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-60706557748472371202009-04-20T21:09:00.001-07:002009-04-20T21:41:07.156-07:00Getting Back to the Table, Part II<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj96kLf2nAuXcSGsitq9k1IpAp2yQBDBXOi7fJU0OlTsLUbDRdzIrlv7_gJwIS2SKzhfoYDyK5QUynkb9kKxQ73UWvh1Gv2eqrdNf6SK93rqB0tPJI3mz_LQH22QJpjykI5S-_ZL06VkB95/s1600-h/DSCN1942.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj96kLf2nAuXcSGsitq9k1IpAp2yQBDBXOi7fJU0OlTsLUbDRdzIrlv7_gJwIS2SKzhfoYDyK5QUynkb9kKxQ73UWvh1Gv2eqrdNf6SK93rqB0tPJI3mz_LQH22QJpjykI5S-_ZL06VkB95/s400/DSCN1942.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326992172266356594" border="0" /></a>Funnily enough my endeavors to get away from the "quinoa and kale salad" mentality began with a dish that contained both quinoa and kale. This is the burrito I whipped up the morning after I learned how close this blog had come to being called "Reservation for One". It's a compilation of leftovers and this is how it was lovingly composed:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-size:100%;">My sister had some kale and broccoli in the fridge for what I judged to be a long enough time for them to become public domain. I was careful to take a rather inconspicous amount of both and finely chopped them before sauteeing in some olive oil and adding a pinch of garlic powder and some cumin. This was the unseasoned greens' orientatio</span><span style="font-size:100%;">n to the Mexican-themed gathering they were ultimately in store for. I then added to the skillet a couple large spoonfuls of Mexican quinoa that my pal, Sherrill (check out her blog, <a href="http://www.blogger.com/saffronspoon.blogspot.com">The Saffron Spoon</a>) had lovingly prepared the night before. To this medley, I introduced the taco-style black beans that served as the main feature in the previous evenings mexican feast. After warming the mixture thoroughly I removed it from the pan and prepared its edible container, an Ezekial 4:9 sprouted grain tortilla. My favorite way to ready this for eating is to massage either side with some olive oil and heat on medium until it is maleable and slightly crispy on the edges. I gently tucked the bean/quinoa/broccoli/kale into its warm tortilla blanket and laid it upon a plate with a smidge of hot salsa and a couple fresh strawberries. ( The last two additions acted more like edible airbrushing for the sake of the above photograph.)</span><br /><br />I should add that I sat down with fork and knife and ate this mindfully and joyfully (it was damn tasty) as I sat on a chair at a table in my sun-lit kitchen.<br /><br />Assessment, step 1 was a success! I was at a table, but I was still eating quinoa and kale, my two safest foods. Step 2 would have to involve something a little more out of my current culinary box....<br /><br /><br /><br /></div>Jenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-31178972331391720462009-04-20T20:08:00.000-07:002009-04-20T21:09:23.914-07:00Getting Back to the Table, Part ISo in one of my last posts I described how I've had a hard time savoring food lately. I spend far too much time thinking/worrying how a food will make me feel or how it will affect my carbon footprint and too little time thinking of how it tastes. Well, before I even had a real chance to deal with that, my situation got worse. It seems that my cerebral way of dealing with food has infected the time I spend dining with others. <br /><br />You see, no one wants to eat with me anymore. I've become one of those hippy vegan types that, to quote a friend, "gets upset when someone else has already brought the kale and quinoa salad to the potluck." I was unaware of how bad it had gotten until the same friend described a recent visit to a local sushi restaurant. Apparently, while she attempted to enjoy her burdock tempura roll (which I have enjoyed myself in the past) I made several negative remarks about the amount of white rice in the meal and lamented the absence of brown rice sushi at local sushi restaurants. <br /><br />Of course, what I meant was that, in my case eating lots of white rice makes me feel sluggish and irritable and I, for the benefit of myself and others, choose to have brown because it makes me feel better than the white. But by pointing this out it sounds like, in my opinion, anyone who wouldn't choose brown rice is making an inferior decision. Either that or all my talk about the physiological and psychological effects of food really takes away from the enjoyment of the food itself. <br /><br />So, in a manner not unlike exhibiting my ability to sit with the adults during family gatherings when I was a child, this weekend became all about proving to myself and others that I could be invited back to the table...Jenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-81427808950683054392009-04-17T10:10:00.000-07:002009-04-17T10:21:23.594-07:00Polenta<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU-SM4ESCwPFgNcApcifd93LYjfiKyPTVKGXlHxAWwExpE7TIy1Fjghtr91-J_QCU3WNlxy_qemjfWs9zSn0IrPtW9lZJmEDtvGmqVmGZ3Vwe7j75-hL32puaiYwbuPd6j5X7th2OB3U8K/s1600-h/DSCN1931.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU-SM4ESCwPFgNcApcifd93LYjfiKyPTVKGXlHxAWwExpE7TIy1Fjghtr91-J_QCU3WNlxy_qemjfWs9zSn0IrPtW9lZJmEDtvGmqVmGZ3Vwe7j75-hL32puaiYwbuPd6j5X7th2OB3U8K/s400/DSCN1931.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325709471103986914" border="0" /></a>Mmmm...polenta. Just take a minute to bask in the ethereal glow of a bowl of polenta, a dash of cinnamon, a sprinkle of toasted almonds, and a drizzle of warm maple syrup.Jenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-66322883390533129662009-04-14T22:34:00.000-07:002009-04-14T22:40:31.610-07:00Just Food<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;"> "Every morning I get up and I can't decide whether I want to save the world or savor it.</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> " ~ E.B. White </span></span><br /><br />When I was formulating ideas for this blog. I tried to embellish the notion of food. Should I write about the politics of food? Should I write about how to practically incorporate whole foods into one’s life? It didn’t seem like enough to write about just food. What I neglected to realize, and what was made abundantly clear to me as I listened to Shauna James Ahern <a href="http://glutenfreegirl.blogspot.com/">(Gluten-Free Girl)</a> speak this afternoon, is that it is impossible to write about just food. Food is such an integral part of our lives one can’t write about food and not talk about human connections. You can’t talk about food and not talk about human emotions: love, passion, comfort, joy. When a food truly satisfies hunger it touches on the human need and desire for all of these things. <br /><br />I chose to study nutrition to save the world. That may seem grandiose but I truly saw this master’s degree in nutrition as the first step to creating a healthier, happier global society. I wanted to make wellness a choice everyone could make, not a luxury reserved for the upper ten percent. I made a choice to give up my consumption of animal products because I didn’t want to use my resources to power an industry that is contributing to an unhealthy environment on many fronts. These days, each choice I make at the grocery store or the farmers market, at a restaurant or in my own kitchen is made to be in concert with my goal to save the world. I rarely make the choice to savor it. <br /><br />Don't get me wrong, I still want to wake up tomorrow and make the decision to save the world, but I also want to savor it. With the help of this blog I hope to find a balance between the two. There are days where I might delve into deeper issues surrounding food and how it needs to be saved, but most days I want to talk about just food and how it needs to be savored. <br /><br />Thanks for reading.<br /><br />JennaJenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218002910193280841.post-75279589948306554292009-04-12T10:56:00.000-07:002009-04-12T11:48:13.415-07:00TraditionsOne of the biggest challenges I’ve encountered when trying to change my own eating habits as well as when motivating others to change theirs is tradition. Whether cultural or religious, so many of our traditions revolve around food. <br /><br />For instance, if I were in Pennsylvania right now celebrating Easter with my family I’d be presented with a plate of ground sausage and scrambled eggs for breakfast. We’d then munch on a delicacy called Easter Pie that is essentially a very dense quiche with some combination of the following: ricotta, Parmesan, ham, pepperoni, pasta, salami, eggs, and sausage. Rounding off the day would be an evening of some crackers, bread, cheese, and still more ham. <br /><br />Now if you’re relying on the Italian-American food pyramid you’ve hit all the major food groups: MEAT, CHEESE, and BREAD. From the perspective of a whole grain loving, vegetable chomping vegan…you’re in the third circle of Hell. <br /><br />You could sit there all grouchy and judgmental, but there are better options:<br />Like bringing something for everyone to share that meets your preferences and their tastes!<br /><br />Last year I provided an “Easter Pie” of my own made with tofu, fresh spinach and tomatoes, a little nutritional yeast and lots of fresh basil (Italians love anything with basil in it).<br /> Did everyone try it? No. But a few did and, if nothing else, it kept me from being a hungry, irritable daughter/cousin/niece on that day. I hope too, it showed that I’m not denying the importance of sharing a meal together with my family even if our dietary choices are different.<br /><br />After all, the love of family should be what brings you to the table not just the food, right?<br /><br />Peace,<br />JennaJenna Umbriachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09820578558308265873noreply@blogger.com3