First Taste

I was eighteen the first time I took an international flight.  I was with my two best friends from high school.  We had just graduated, and while our classmates were getting drunk on a beach somewhere in Mexico, Florida or New Jersey, we were walking through the Louvre getting lost amongst the art and coming to terms with just how dorky that made us.  It’s funny to me now that after countless flights across the ocean and several others across the country, I still remember that flight with vivid detail, especially the food. 

Having heard how bad airplane food was meant to be, my friends and I were surprised that our dinner was not only edible but also enjoyable.  This fact baffles me today as I consider airplane food to be rather hideous.  Perhaps after four years of high school cafeteria food my pallet was more inclined towards tastelessness.  What I remember most though was the dessert, sequestered from the rest of the meal in its spaceship-shaped container.  Underneath its pale white lid was a slice of cherry cheesecake; sweet and creamy.  We talked about how good that dessert was even after days of enjoying French pastry.

I have my doubts that a British Airways cheesecake could have rivaled the likes of a warm flaky croissant, buttered to perfection.  Instead, I think that cheesecake was the beginning of my love of travel and its mistress, foreign food.  We all remember our firsts, and for me that cheesecake was the beginning of moving away from Philly soft pretzels, ‘whiz’ and Tastykake.  All yummy things, but hardly worth writing home about – especially since those foods were what made home be home.

I thought of that cheesecake as I flew to England a few weeks ago.  I knew that no such cheesecake would be offered to me this time.  In fact, since there was no vegetarian gluten free option, I didn’t even eat what was served.  I packed gluten free bars, including Larabar, Bakery on Main, Pombar & Kind bars, until my carry-on bag was stuffed.  I comforted myself with an excellent book, Sara Gruen’s Ape House, and the knowledge that once I landed I would get to indulge in the food of the place where I first discovered there was such a thing called gluten, thanks to the UK’s excellent food labeling, years before it took off in America.

You can imagine my disappointment when I discovered that while England had once been a step ahead in gluten free friendliness, they have not moved any further and in fact have taken a step back. Sure, there were still specialty stores, and the big food stores had sections of gluten free offerings – hello gluten-free mince pies! But despite some desperate searching, going out to eat was so stressful and difficult, I found myself eating those bars and drinking wine whenever we went out to eat.  It seemed that since my last visit, less than a year ago, restaurants had done away with their gluten free menus.

Flying home on Thanksgiving, I was starving after the last bar disappeared.  An hour before landing I was served an egg and mayo sandwich on gluten free bread.  In my hunger, it tasted as good as that cheesecake had over a decade ago.

Once we landed and arrived at my sister-in-law’s, I heated up the vegetarian gluten free stuffing I had made before our trip and added the vegetables I could safely eat.  For one moment, as I watched my family dig into their delicious looking gluten-filled meals I felt something very close to grief.  Then I took a bite of my stuffing, followed by several others, gaining back at least three of the five pounds I had lost on the trip.  To my shock, despite my aversion to cooking, I hadn’t done a bad job.

I’m sure in ten years time I’ll look back on my Thanksgiving meal and think, much like I do about that cheesecake, that it couldn’t have been that good.  But maybe, also like the cheesecake, it’ll be the start of something new.  Instead of enjoying food from exotic places, I’ll enjoy the food from somewhere even more foreign – my own kitchen. 

Recipe (Remix)

I have no idea how to tell which knife is the correct one to use. I couldn't tell you what the difference is between cutting and dicing or what the hell cubing is.  The only kitchen equipment I have is from my bridal shower, over five years old and still in boxes on the shelf. So the idea of cooking something from scratch was very intimidating.
Last year, for Thanksgiving, I bought gluten free stuffing and all the trimmings.  This year, I decided to brave the kitchen. Because my schedule is pretty much booked until the actual holiday, I had to make it this weekend and just freeze it.  So I did what anyone who's in denial and refuses to buy a gluten-free cookbook would do.  I googled it, searched on twitter and basically came up with a recipe I thought I could handle.  I picked the lovely http://www.glutenfreegirl.blogspot.com/ gluten free stuffing recipe with a few changes to make it vegetarian.
Now full disclosure here, not only do I not like to cook, but I cannot follow a recipe. Instructions on how to setup a computer program, how to build a bookshelf or any home do-it-yourself guide I can follow. Anything to do with food, I instantly become illiterate. I once put a frozen pizza in the oven forgetting to remove the cardboard from the bottom.  I also once made one of those pre-cooked pasta packets and simply glossed over the step that said: Drain Remaining Water.  When I say that I am hopeless in the kitchen, I am not being dramatic.  The first meal I made for my husband involved crunchy rice and burnt scones (store bought mind you, I was just warming them up). It worked out though, because he is a fabulous cook.
So the first step towards our Thanksgiving dinner, since my husband is also a vegetarian and the rest of my family is not, was the main course.  A gluten free nut roast. Since I had never even heard of something called a nut roast until I met my husband I decided to let him make this one and I would help.  We ran into our first problem when we realized we had nothing to - what would be the technical term? Pulverize? - the brazil nuts. I tried our smoothie maker (the one thing I am good at making) and it did an okay job, but that was the first sign that this was not going to go well.
Hours later, I was still in the kitchen by myself with my husband's nut roast cooling on the side teasing me with my ineptitude. But, pen in hand to check off the steps as I completed them, I moved forward.  Everything was going really well, I was in the middle of sauteing when I thought I'd get creative and throw some mushrooms into the mix.  That was all it took, one break from the rules and suddenly everything started to unravel.  I forgot the rosemary and decided to saute it on its own, then after soaking the bread I saw the word toasted.  Whoops. My bread was soaking everything up and looking like one giant lump of dough. I forgot the salt and the pepper and made a mess of the egg.  Honestly, how do you get the egg yolk not to scramble?  In the end, since I had used up my only gluten free bread loaf (yep only bought one, even though the ingredients list called for two), I had to make do with the lump in the bowl in front of me. I threw it in the oven, without the aluminum foil - because yes I forgot that too - and waited.  It took longer than the 20 minutes it said to bake it for, but when it was ready, well, I'm sure it would have tasted fabulous had I followed the recipe to the letter, but it was actually pretty wonderful.
So my first venture into the kitchen was trial and error, but I managed to make something delicious.  Not a bad first step to conquering my kitchen fear.  Of course, I won't know if it will still taste as good after it's defrosted until the actual day, but I did buy enough gluten free gravy to drown it in if it doesn't.  And of course there's always the gluten free pecan pie from Whole Foods for dessert.  Maybe next year I'll  be ready to make my own pie, but knowing me, it'll be a walnut loaf by the time I'm done with it.

Bring On The Color

There will always be restrictions in my life, but over the last few weeks I tried to get rid of any that weren’t absolutely necessary.  So while I still ate a gluten-free diet, if I was craving Trader Joe’s Baked Cheese Crunchies over baby carrots, I ate the Cheese Crunchies.  I stopped calculating out the vitamins in my food and measuring the needed supplements.  And finally, I just did what I wanted; if I was tired on a Sunday afternoon, instead of putting the laundry away, I took a nap, or instead of going to the gym, I read a book – or several.

In complete honesty I was hoping for some big reveal, or maybe even to feel better.  While neither of those things happened, I did give my body a rest, at least from what I could while having a full-time job.  And now with the drop in temperature (finally!) signifying that the seasons really have changed, I feel the need to change with it.

Autumn yields a change to the rhythm of the day as the nights come sooner, begging to be spent in creativity by the computer or in comfort curled before the fire reading a book.  The limited sunlight forces me to make the most of the daylight hours, getting things knocked off my to-do list with as much speed as I can muster.  Autumn also comes with the promise of a beginning, middle and end that you can see unfold.  The world becomes more colorful when the leaves change, eventually laying out a blanket to crunch on as you walk, before being replaced with the decorations for the holidays.   You can see its path at the start, instead of only being able to find it in retrospect. 

For me, more than the New Year or a birthday, Autumn is the start of something new and the shedding of something old.  So it’s time to start: a new writing project, a new exercise plan, a new approach to food - that will shockingly result in me conquering my hatred and stepping foot in the intimidating kitchen. 

I have my ingredient list ready.  I have my hula-hoop waiting to be added to my cardio plan, and inspiration is everywhere I look.   It’s time for a fresh start, and this one will not be filled with black lines on a white schedule sheet.  It will be filled with color.