Emotional eating occurs throughout the year for many people and is characterized by the tendency to eat while experiencing negative emotion. This often leads to overeating, especially of the stuff that’s not so good for us. Comfort foods are sought during such times to do just that, provide comfort. Yet often times while chomping in an emotional state, it is hard to even enjoy the experience of eating.

The weeks before winter’s big holidays are often anxiety-ridden, and with those anxious feelings often comes emotional eating. So when holiday treats are in abundance, what is the best way to curb emotional eating and enjoy both good food and the spirit of the season?

I thought about that as I was making this gingerbread, and I realized that I get quite an emotional high just from baking. I think it is because I am looking forward to sharing my baked goods with others, many of whom I don’t get to see except during the holidays or don’t have a chance to share meals with during the year. So then, eating during the holidays for me means sharing strong emotions with everyone around me through the enjoyment of special holidays foods. Mostly desserts actually, and almost always positive emotions. The food doesn’t even need to be prepared by me. I am a grateful cookie tin recipient!

So if I’m feeling good while biting into my favorite Christmas cookie, will one be enough?

I think the answer is yes, but only if I am mindful of how I am feeling, including my mood state and my level of hunger. I have learned that one of the best ways to overcome emotional eating is increasing “interoceptive awareness,” or a strong sense of exactly how you are feeling in the moment. I am blessed to be surrounded with loved ones this holiday season, and so that is what I am going to focus on this year.

Gingerbread might not necessarily equal happiness, but it is a great complement. At least one slice. (And maybe for breakfast.)

This recipe is adapted from my most reliable home cookbook. I changed quantities to fit a bundt pan rather than the 9 inch square pan called for in the original recipe. The recipe uses water instead of milk and a unique method of melting the butter right in with the molasses. It turned out super moist and cakey! I forgot that I didn’t have powdered sugar, so I pulsed some granulated sugar in a food processor and got a great sparkle effect.

Gingerbread Bundt Cake
adapted from The All New Good Housekeeping Cookbook

3 cups flour1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 teaspoons ground ginger
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup light molasses
3/4 cup (12 tablespoons) unsalted butter
1-1/2 cups boiling water
2 large eggs, lightly beaten

For the glaze: 1 cup white sugar, puled in food processor about 1 minute
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 cup hot water

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour a standard bundt pan.

Combine flour, white sugar, brown sugar, ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, baking soda, and salt in a large bowl; stir until blended.

In separate bowl, combine molasses, butter, and water. (Be sure to measure the water after it has come to a boil.) Stir until butter melts. (This took a few minutes because I had refrigerated my jar of molasses.)

Add molasses mixture and beaten eggs to flour mixture. Whisk to combine. Continue whisking until smooth, or use an electric mixer and beat for two full minutes. (Using the mixer will give a more cake-like texture.)

Scrape batter into the prepared pan. Bake until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean, about 50-60 minutes. Prepare the glaze by combining the sugar and cinnamon with water or milk, if desired.

Cool in pan on a wire rack. When fully cooled, use a thin spatula to release cake from sides and middle of pan. Turn out onto plate. Glaze and decorate with candied ginger pieces if desired.

It takes a lot of organization and I suppose some spur of the moment splatters and spills to get in-the-process-of-cooking photos for a food blog. It also takes an artistic eye and some confident, but careful plating to present a finished food blog project.

My culinary development has been greatly aided by the step-by-step how-to photos presented on the many food blogs I follow. And the pixels of polished food art tantalizing the taste buds that seem to have sprouted in my retina? They have done something important for my my kitchen competence, too. Food photography’s elegant dedication to presentation has cultivated in me a particular form of grace. The grace of giving.

This grace is actually a serious need to share, a regular compulsion to connect with others that is accomplished through food. Sharing food is a moment of compassion easily returned by a gift of warm thanks. Food connects us and brings us together… even if it is not present, as a conversation turns to reminiscing about food that once was, or a next meeting is set up around a special meal, or a new blog post makes its readers smile and salivate.

I don’t think it is inconsequential, this role that food plays in our relationships. The past weeks have been full of opportunities for me to share foods from my kitchen — barbequed ribs, apple crumb pie, homemade english muffins — with others, and it felt wonderful to have all those opportunities to connect. 

Making authentic connections with others is key to your sense of self worth and well-being. That means cooking if you want, and maybe blogging about it, but also simply eating up whatever anyone willingly places in front of you!

I shared these chocolate covered strawberries with a couple that is commemorating the special relationship they share with one another today. And these strawberries are among the first ripe crop of the season from my local farm, where I have been spending some more time lately connecting with the people who grow my food. Truly, I couldn’t think of better way to continue the gift of giving!

Chocolate Covered Strawberries

Thoroughly rinse and dry a pint of fresh strawberries. Melt 1/2 cup of your favorite chocolate over a double boiler or in the microwave until chocolate is jus smooth. Drizzle in 1/2 teaspoon sunflower oil to thin. Dip each strawberry in melted chocolate, then roll in favorite toppings. (I used sprinkles, dark chocolate crunch pieces, and crushed almonds.) Place dipped strawberries on a baking sheet lined with wax paper. Chill in the refrigerator until chocolate is set, about 20 minutes. Enjoy!

I have had all of these days. Just read about my jumble with strawberry-rhubarb jam or my unfortunate angel food cake flop for reference. Those were bad days, and while yes, it’s true that everybody has bad days, nobody is perfect, and everyone makes mistakes, moving on comforted only by the knowledge that I am not alone has not necessarily led me to happier days.

What seems to distinguish my bad days from everyone else’s is pessimism.

A pessimist sees the world in a unique way. As positive psychologist Dr. Martin E.P. Seliman descibes in his national best-seling book Learned Optimism, a pessimist is someone who sees bad events as personal ones that affect every area of life and cause damage for a long time. To a pessimist, bad events are  personal, pervasive, and permanent. On top of that, when good things happen, a pessimist does not think they did anything to deserve them or that the good event will affect other areas of life or extend for some period of time. Good events are impersonal, limited, and temporary.

Mental health declines as pessimists become more depressed, and in turn so does physical health where low mental health status leads to poorer eating decisions and fewer nutrition goals met. Both the physical and mental energy needed to make positive behavior change is depleted. Dieting is a challenge. Learning to cook is a conundrum. Enjoying kitchen successes is easier said than done. These are all road blocks that I have sought to overcome, and in this way, I have learned how closely nutrition is linked to mental health.  

The month of May is dedicated in the United States to mental health awareness. I believe that focusing on mental health is important simply because it is connected to so many other aspects of health, and that is why today I am participating in the American Psychological Association’s Mental Health Month Blog Party.

There are many aspects of your own experience that may impact how you experience food. Think about them for a minute and consider what changes you would like to make, and if you would like, think about whether seeking professional advice from a counselor or nutritionist would be beneficial to you. Seeking mental health treatment is a positive step and need not carry any stigma.

I personally am making progress in combating my negative thinking and pessimistic habits using the tips from Dr. Seligman’s book. I made these fish cakes for myself on an evening when my husband was away on a business trip. I was lonely and really felt like just eating ice cream from out of the container, but instead I found myself inspired by a recipe I stumbled on over at Food for my Family, and had some fun making a simple dinner for one, using up leftovers from the fridge and sauteeing a bunch of asparagus, cut just that morning, from the farm down the road. 

And in contrast to those anxiety-ridden days where pessimism ran the kitchen, this dish was perfectly salted.

Fish Cakes
with red onions, arugula, and rice

3/4 cup cooked fish, flaked (I had red snapper.)
1 cup cooked white rice (also try quinoa!)
1 large handful arugula, chopped
1/2 small red onion, small diced
1/4 cup Italian bread crumbs
1 tablespoon sour cream
1 large egg
dash of paprika
salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
1/2 cup panko bread crumbs

Spray a large skillet with a light coating of olive oil and place over medium-high heat. In a bowl, combine fish, rice, arugula, red onions, and bread crumbs. In a separate small bowl, beat sour cream into egg. Stir in the paprika, and season with salt and pepper. Add wet ingredients to dry ingredients, then mix to combine.

Divide batter into six even servings. Shape each into a small ball, and roll in panko bread crumbs.

Place each ball in heated skillet, then gently flatten into a patty with a fork.

Cook until underside is browned, about 7 minutes, then flip cook until underside is browned. Makes six medium fish cakes. Serve with sauteed asparagus and a dose of spicy Sriracha sauce.

 To read other great posts related to mental health, follow #mhblogday on Twitter or check out the APA Mental Health Blog Party page.

I am still working on being more mindful in the daily celebration of my meals, and what better way than to pay more attention to the seasons and the bounty of produce the one upon us now signals.

Positive psychologists have identified mindfulness as one of the ways by which we can increase a sense of positive emotion in the present. Another is savoring. A third is preventing the development of habits.

You may have noticed I have been trying out all these strategies lately, in my reflection on the coffee cake habit, in my note on savoring not only my coconot oats but the process of preparing them, and in my celebratory ode to grilled cheese. Here I’m talking pasta and all the beautiful green veggies spring brings us.

I’ve learned a lot about seasonal eating in the past year, simply because I’ve started paying attention. It’s kind of hard to recognize what is in season when shopping at a grocery store that carries every kind of produce all year long, but the garden in my backyard was a great teacher. And this year, I am looking forward to learning more from the farm down the road!

The Crossroad Farm at Grossman’s is holding its grand reopening celebration this coming Saturday, and I am seriously looking forward to purchasing my CSA-style coupon books for the first time this season! Hoorah!

Happy spring! I hope you find many things to be positive about in your own community this season.

Pasta Primavera
with asparagus, arugula, and peas

1/2 lb penne pasta
olive oil
2 chicken breasts, deboned
salt, freshly ground black pepper
dried basil, dried oregano, garlic poweder
1 teaspoon lemon juice
1 bunch fresh asparagus, tough stems removed and cut in half
1 cup peas (if frozen, thawed)
2 cups arugula
1/2 cup heavy cream
fresh parsley, chopped
parmesan cheese

Bring a large stockpot of water to a boil. Add a dash of salt, then add pasta, and cook according to package directions. Drain, and transfer pasta to large bowl. Cover to keep warm.

In large skillet, heat a tablespoon or two of olive oil over medium high heat. Slice chicken breasts lengthwise in half, to yield four thin cutlets. Season cutlets with salt, freshly ground black pepper, basil, oregano, and garlic powder on one side, then lay seasoned side down in heated skillet. Season top side, and flip when underside is browned. Cook until golden brown on both sides and chicken is cooked through. Set aside.

Deglaze pan with lemon juice, reduce heat to medium, then add aspargus. Season with salt, then cover and cook for 5 minutes, until softened. Add peas, and cook with cover off until warmed through, about another 5 minutes.

Using a slotted spoon, transfer vegetables to bowl with pasta. Add heavy cream to juices remaining in skillet. Add a dash of salt and a little freshly ground pepper. Bring to a boil, then remove from heat to cool for a few minutes. Add a sprinkle of fresh chopped parsley.

Toss pasta and vegetables with cream. Cut chicken into strips. Plate pasta on top of a bed of arugula, then top with chicken, parmesan, and another grind of black pepper. Serve warm immediately. (Outside on the back patio if possible!)

Yes, there is a holiday day for grilled cheese. Some people think the mindless ascription of special commemorations to random days of the year is silly. Certainly it is silly, but I think aside from just being fun, the sentiment behind the celebration makes up for some of the useless wackiness. At least when it comes to grilled cheese.

One of the important things that seems to be easy for me to forget while engaged in  chomping and chewing and chowing is that eating is simply wonderful!!!

Every food put on the table might just deserve to be celebrated, for reason of being thankful for the privilege of having a meal or three or six per day, for point of being appreciative of those who prepared the dish, for purpose of being happy to share it with beloved dinner companions. But most importantly, because it just tastes SOOO good!

I give three cheers for grilled cheese today simply because the practice of eating mindfully — a practice noted by positive psychologists to increase positive emotions and appreciation for the present moment and in turn overall personal well-being – is not something I practice enough. Sometimes I can finish dinner in less than 10 minutes, for goodness sake.

So I sat down with my grilled cheese this afternoon and minded it. I refused to start the usual lunchtime-at-my-desk routine of random Google searching, email checking, Twitter watching, and Pinterest browsing. (It was hard.)

But instead, I got to really enjoy my lunch, its butter crunching crust, its sweet tangy fruit filling, and warm gooey cheese oozing out the sides. Instead, I thought about the work I put into making those jars of apricot jam last year, and I realized how glad I am that I did not give up after my first big jam disaster. Instead, I thought about the bread, how I made that bread — my first big bread baking success! – when I was feeling bored and antsy yesterday afternoon, and I realized that whenever I get on someone’s nerves, they should just tell me to “go knead a loaf of bread!”

(And there is a rude someone I spoke with on the phone today to whom I would have liked to say exactly that!)

And then they should remind me to make myself a lunch of grilled cheese and jam.

(I would make that person a sandwich, too, if it put her in a better mood!)

Fruit and cheese belong together, people.

(And so does your job and common courtesy.)

Fruited Jam Grilled Cheese
with Munster and Apricot Jam

2 thick slices farmhouse white bread
4 slices Munster cheese
1 tablespoon apricot jam
Butter

Heat a skillet over medium low heat. Butter one side of each slice of bread. Place one slice, butter-side-down, on the heated skillet. Top with cheese. Spread jam on un-buttered side of other piece of bread. Then lay jam-side-down on top of cheese. Cook until underside is browned and cheese begins to melt, then flip until other side is browned and cheese is melted. Enjoy!

Trying to discover the source of that inherent, “joy of cooking” is one of the goals I had in mind as I began to explore the psychology of cooking and eating on this blog. On one hand, I wondered, why does cooking so often feel like a chore to me? Why is it so hard sometimes to feel up to the task of cooking dinner? On the other, I wondered, why I am so drawn to baking? Why do I feel so proud of myself after successfully cooking through a new recipe?

Dr. Martin E. P. Seligman is a professor, researcher, and major contributer to the movement known as Positive Psychology. I recently dove into reading several of his national best-selling books on the topic, and as a result, I have begun to see the questions I have been asking on this blog in a whole new light.

One concept he puts forth in the book Authentic Happiness that seems to be particularly relevant to my quest to find “the meaning of cooking” is known as gratification.

Gratification applies to those positive emotions that are produced out of the experience of doing an activity that is completely engaging. This activity requires you draw on your strengths and put in some real effort, but the effortful concentration then induced creates a sense of flow, where purpose and meaning are found and the rest of the material world falls away. 

He notes that an experience that is gratifying is very distinct from one that is pleasurable. While I think various pleasures are embedded in the experience of food (more to come on this idea soon!), it seems that the concept of gratification much more closely applies to the experience of cooking.

Yet, everyone has different talents and strengths that then correspond to different experiences of gratification. It seems for some people cooking is one of those experiences, and while maybe it is true that anyone can learn how to cook, and indeed might have to out of necessity, can cooking really be gratifying for everyone?

In some ways, I do think this is possible, because cooking draws on so many different strengths — creativity, critical thinking, a love of learning, origincality, perseverance, appreciation of beauty, generosity, and hope, even. All of these are strengths that have been identified by in Dr. Seligman’s extensive research, and in addition to all twenty-four being outlined in his book, there is a measure, known as the VIA Survey of Signature Strengths, which can be taken for free after registering on Dr. Seligman’s research website, that has been developed to assess the various strengths you hold.

Among some of my greater strengths are love of learning and creativity. I think this may be why I enjoy baking so much, since there are endless ingredient combinations to learn and each allows for a lot of creativity on the part of the baker. And perhaps the only reason why I have continued to keep cooking, even in the face of failure, is my strength of perseverence. It likely is not due to optimism or hope in the future, since this is not one of my strengths… At least not yet. There are a lot of ways to tap into different strengths and develop them , but more importantly, I can use the strengths I already have developed in order to further encourage gratification in the kitchen, and maybe help me stop dragging my feet to get in there when it’s time to cook dinner.

The field of positive psychology is full of practical advice for increasing a sense of well-being throughout your life(reading Dr. Seligman’s other work Learned Optimism has been quite helpful in developing a more positive outlook about the future). I plan to continue exploring the research and theory behind this movement, and see just how it applies to my other very important interest: eating yummy food — like this here bowl of Coconut Oats.

Generally, I cook my oatmeal with water, and maybe sometimes add a splash of milk to the bowl at the end. With a little coconut milk left over in the fridge, though, I found inspiration for a new method on the fly yesterday morning. I added dash of cinnamon and nutmeg along the way, watched it bubble on the stove, and remembered the frozen berries in the freezer that would just add the perfect touch on top of the creamy oats.

I was in in the zone while cooking this oatmeal, pulling on the strengths I have built up over my lifetime — creativity, critical thinking, and appreciation of beauty — and really enjoying the experience of cooking. For ten minutes of gratification, and several more of pleasure as I tucked in to my breakfast, I guess cooking is worth it.

Coconut Oats
with Berries, Honey, and Pecans

1/2 cup old fashioned oats
1/4 cup coconut milk
Cold water, as needed
dash of ground cinnamon
dash of ground nutmeg
1/4 cup mixed berries (frozen or fresh)
1 tablespoon honey
1 tablespoon pecans, chopped

Combine oats and coconut milk in a small saucepan. Then add in enough water to cover oats by about 1/4″ (add less for thicker oats; add more for thinner consistency).

Set saucepan over medium heat, and bring to a simmer. Reduce heat to medium-low, add in a dash of cinnamon and nutmeg, then allow oats to cook until desired consistency is achieved, about 5 minutes.

Top with berries (if frozen, the heat of the oatmeal will gradually warm them through), honey, and pecans!

In the past few weeks, I have been hearing a lot about the new book The Power of Habit, written by New York Times investigative reported Charles Duhigg, which focuses on habit formation and transformation.

My coffee cake habit played out happily in the week following my first experience using a tube pan (in practice for an upcoming Angel food cake occasion!).

That coffee cake gave me such a good reason to get out of bed. I would wake up, send my husband (whose morning habit tends to be to not eat coffee cake or any kind of breakfast whatsoever for that matter) out the door, and without anyone left in the kitchen to judge me, I would slice into the crunchy almond sugar coating on that coffee cake straight away. Sometimes I would brew a pot of coffee for my breakfast’s namesake, but really, all I needed was cake for breakfast to help the sun rise and get my day started.

Cake for breakfast! Perhaps this is a bad habit…

The foundation of Duhigg’s exploration of habit formation is largely behavioral. He sets out with an explanation of the “trigger, behavior, reward” habit loop; a trigger cues the automatic start of a learned behavior through which you achieve some kind of reward.

Habits are a way of reducing the amount of work that your brain needs to do. Learning a habit means that you don’t have to think so hard just to get simple tasks done, and you don’t have to relearn how to do something every time you set out to do it. In this way, some habits are good.

For those that are bad, however, Duhigg suggests focusing on understanding your habit loops in order to change them. What is your cue, your behavior, your reward? Maybe you can eliminate the cue, or replace the bad behavior with a good one, or perhaps find a new reward.

However, as noted by psychologist Dr. Timothy Wilson in his response to Duhigg’s work, it’s helpful to remember not all habits can be explained simply from the behavioral perspective. Some habits are governed by social norms, others are affected by your perception of yourself and of others’ expectations of you, and still others, such as an addiction, are too severe to be simply unlearned.

So if you are thinking about your eating habits, what do you think can be changed about them? I have talked a lot about making some drastic changes to the ingredients I will allow in my body, the way I seasonally source my food, and the quality of the produce I buy.

But what about every day little changes? What about tackling everyday bad eating habits? Some of the habits I am thinking about are eating late, having seconds even if I’m not hungry, mindless emotional eating, and eating out boredom.

In order to examine these habits, I have kept a food diary for the past week. I recorded what and how much I ate, and at what time of day. I think this will help me to target some simple eating habits that I might be able to get set on a new loop. We’ll see how I do in another week!

And so what about the case of cake for breakfast? Well, I can at least say that the habit disappeared when the cake did.

I followed a recipe from my favorite go-to cookbook for this coffee cake. The original recipe uses one 16 ounce container of sour cream, however, I was out at the time of baking, so I substituted 3/4 cup vanilla yogurt and 1 1/4 cup milk. The cake is moist, the cinnamon nut layer perfectly crunchy!

At first, I thought the batter didn’t seem like enough. I got in three, what I thought were thin layers, but then the cake rose up beautifully in the tube pan. I think next time I might add some chopped dates to the cinnamon nut filling to help that filling go further!

Cinnamon Streusel Coffee Cake
adapted from The All New Good Housekeeping Cookbook

For the filling:
2/3 cup brown sugar
2/3 cups almonds, roughly chopped
1 teaspoon cinnamon

For the cake:
1 3/4 cups white sugar
3 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup yogurt
1 1/4 cups milk
1/2 cup butter (1 stick), softened
3 large eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour a 9 to 10 inch tube pan with removable bottom.

In a small bowl, combine brown sugar, almonds, and cinnamon. In a separate medium bowl, combine flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. In another small bowl, combine yogurt and milk.

In a large bowl, beat butter and white sugar until light. Add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in vanilla. Then, alternately add flour mixture and yogurt mixture, beginning and ending with the dry ingredients, until batter is smooth.

Spoon 1/3 of batter into prepared pan. Sprinkle about 1/3 nut mixture evenly over batter, then top with 1/3 more batter. Sprinkly about another 1/3 of the nut mixture, then the remaining 1/3 of batter, and cover the top of the cake with the remaining 1/3 nut mixture.

Bake until toothpick inserted in center of cake comes out clean, about 1 hour 20 minutes. Cool in pan on wire rack about 10 minutes. Use a thin spatula to separate cake from sides and center tube.

Lift tube to separate cake from pan side.

Invert cake onto a plate, then slide spatula under cake to separate from bottom of pan.

Turn cake, with nut mixture side up, onto a wire rack to cool completely. Makes 16 servings.

I continue to make an effort to prepare authentic Ghanaian food for my husband. I know what the authentic food tastes like. I use all the same ingredients that go into the authentic dish. I have somewhat of an idea of the steps I need to follow in order arrive at an authentic final product, but still, even when I am successful, my Jollof rice or Groundnut soup or Kenkey and fish is quite different from the next cook’s — from the ingredients, to the process, to the outcome.

I think this is what makes it difficult for me to immediately believe claims of a recipe’s authenticity, simply because there are probably a million variations of “authentic” when it comes to any traditional ethnic cuisine.

I might be a more ready believer if I am simply told that recipe is really, really good because that’s how my grandmother’s grandmothers’ grandmother used to make it and it has been improved and and refined by generations of cooks who have tailored the dish to fit the best available local, seasonal items.

That seems like a good definition of authentic. And I wish that is what would be meant when such an advertisement is waived around. Such a word, much like the very in vogue claims of “real” or “all natural” ingredients, has great power over our perception of the food that we may potentially decide to put in our mouth and if used rightly, gives an important nod to the expertise of those who came before us, those who built the food culture that sustains us. 

All that is to say that I’m not sure if this is an “authentic” recipe for the famous Portuguese soup, Caldo Verde. I wrote the recipe myself based on how I learned to prepare it from my very good Portuguese friend and her mother. I may have fudged it up a little bit or added a tweak that is totally wrong, and probably, the soup made in their kitchen would taste a million times better than mine simply because they are surely and truly authentic cooks, who even own a special kale mincing apparatus that can be attached to the table and uses a hand crank to feed the kale through a blade that chops it into miniscule shreds.

And that is one of the keys to this soup – mincing the kale to the thinnest possible width. Because I don’t have one of those cool kale death trap combobulators, I learned a trick from my friend that involves tightly rolling up kale leaves and setting the sharp edge of a knife at the very end of the roll to cut through the leaves, like a chiffonade. This takes some concentration and patience, but if you put in the effort, the kale will cook down in the soup and lend it just a hint of its nutrition-packed green hue. It is for this reason, I guess, that the soup earned the title, caldo verde, or “green soup.”

So, even though I can’t promise the following recipe is authentic, I do avow that it is really good. Really, really good.

Caldo Verde (“Green Soup”)
or Portuguese Kale and Potato Soup

1 tablespoon olive oil
1/2 lb chorizo sausage, sliced to thin rounds
1 small onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
6 medium potatoes, peeled and diced to large pieces
1 large bunch fresh kale
salt and pepper to taste

Heat oil in a stock pot over medium heat. Add chorizo, and brown slightly, about 2 to 3 minutes.  Remove chorizo using a slotted spoon, and set aside.  Add onion and garlic to fat in stock pot. Saute until translucent, about 3 minutes. Add potatoes and a dash of salt. Continue to cook for a few minutes, then add enough water to cover the potatoes by about 1 inch. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat, cover, and simmer until potatoes are softened enough to be mashed with a fork, about 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, begin mincing kale. Stack together three to four leaves, and fold in half along stem. Use a sharp knife to remove tough stem (if desired), then roll kale leaves into a tight log. Cut kale crosswise into very thin ribbons, about 2 cups in all.

Lightly mash potatoes with a fork in stock pot, then transfer to a blender. Remove center part of blender lid to allow steam to escape during blending. Blend to a smooth puree, working in batches if necessary. Return puree to stock pot, and if desired, add a little more water to thin puree to a light soup.

Return soup to a simmer, then stir in kale. Cover, and allow kale to steam until softened, about 10 minutes.

The soup will thicken slightly. Stir in reserved chorizo, adjust seasonings to taste, and serve with a drizzle of olive oil.

Kale will definitely be going in the garden this year!

I realized though the decision to follow through on such a resolution has required me to make a whole string of additional choices.

Which recipe should I follow? Should I use brown sugar or white sugar in the filling? Should I add raisins? (This is a frequent question in my kitchen, naturally.) Should I make them today or tomorrow? Should I let them rise overnight? Should I shape them into hearts for my Valentine?  Should I freeze some for another day?

It kind of reminds me of going to the neighborhood diner with my husband. He decides on ordering one of the specials of the day, closes the menu, and thinks that’s it. Then the waitress says, souporsalad; crackersorbreadwiththat; whatkindofdressing; whatkindofpotato; whatboutyourvegetable; howdoyouwantthatcooked; whatboutsomethingtodrinkhun? By the end of the exchange, he is completely flushed and bewildered, and wonders to me, “Why do they have to ask so many questions?!”

Oh, my poor, darling little Valentine.

But he is right. Making food decisions, in a culture where the diner mentality rules, is complicated.

I started thinking about this after learning about the Food and Drug Administration Risk Communication Advisory Committee. This committee advises the FDA on how to communicate about the risks and benefits of products they oversee so that the public is empowered to make informed decisions.

A psychologist specializing in the study of decision making was recently named chair of this committee. I thought about her as I read this blog post about what kind of milk to drink and then later, as I stood in front of the refrigerated milk section. I ended up buying almond milk. What a job she has.

So what kind of decisions did you make today? Flowers, chocolate, diamond ring? I chose cinnamon rolls inspired by this post (found via Pinterest), using the recipe link in the comments (after reading, comparing, and gleaning tips from several others!).

I cut only eight instead of nine rolls as the original recipe suggests. I also chose to go with a brown sugar cinnamon filling, shaped like hearts for my Valentine of course, which I let rise in the fridge overnight, but I only baked half the recipe this morning. The other log of rolled up dough and the remaining vanilla glaze is in the freezer for another day.

I may try baking that next batch in muffin cups so that they turn out like in this post! Hope my Valentine likes those just as much!

Cinnamon Rolls
adapted from Heather at Poppies at Play

For the dough:
1  (.25 oz) package active dry yeast
1/2 cup warm water
1/2 cup almond milk, scalded then cooled to lukewarm
1/2 cup butter, softened
1/2 cup sugar
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1 teaspoon salt
3-1/2 to 4 cups flour

For the cinnamon filling:
1/2 cup butter, softened
1/2 cup brown sugar
4 teaspoons cinnamon

For the vanilla glaze:
2 tablespoons butter, softened
1-1/2 teaspoons vanilla
1-1/2 cups powdered sugar
4 tablespoons almond milk, warmed

Begin by making the dough. In a large bowl, dissolve yeast in warm water. Let sit for minute or two, then stir in warm milk, softened butter, sugar,  eggs, salt, and 2 cups flour. Use a wooden spoon to mix until combined. Work in another 1 cup flour until dough holds together.

Place 1/2 cup flour in a mound on work surface. Turn dough out onto work surface.

Knead and work in flour, sprinkling work surface with an addition 1/2 cup flour if necessary, until dough is smooth and elastic, about 5 minutes. Place dough in a large greased bowl, turning to coat.

Cover, and let rise in a warm place until doubled, about 2 hours.

Punch dough down, then cover with an inverted bowl and allow to rest for 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, prepare cinnamon filling. Combine softened butter (softened to a point where it is not quite melted, but easy to stir), brown sugar, and cinnamon in a small bowl.

After dough has completed the rest time, split it into two even balls. On a lightly floured work surface, roll each ball into an approximate 9×15 inch rectangle with a rolling pin.

Divide cinnamon mixture evenly between two rectangles, then spread evenly into a thin layer.

Roll up each rectangle, beginning at the 9 inch side into a tight log. To shape hearts, roll from both sides into the middle, until dough touches.

(If desired, wrap and freeze one or both logs at this point. I used two layers of plastic wrap and one of foil. Allow to thaw before cutting into rolls and proceeding to second rise time.)

Cut  each log into eight or nine rolls. Form point of the heart by pinching the bottom of each cut roll.

Grease a small baking pan, and arrange cut rolls in the pan. Cover, and let rise for forty minutes, or place in the refrigerator and allow rolls to rise over night (about 12 hours), removing from fridge 10 minutes before baking.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Bake rolls for 25-30 minutes.

Meanwhile, prepare vanilla glaze. Beat together softened butter and vanilla, then gradually add powdered sugar alternating with tablespoons of warm milk. Stir until smooth.

(If desired, freeze half of the glaze in a ziplock bag if reserving rolls for later baking.)

Drizzle vanilla glaze over rolls. Serve warm with love. Makes 16-18 rolls.

She feeds us good food. On Saturday, she served us fluffy pancakes, drizzled with a crimson triple berry sauce, warm maple syrup, and a dollop of butter melting down the sides. She made red wine braised short ribs, falling off the bone atop a pile of roasted garlic mashed potatoes later that night. And the next morning, bacon and eggs baked in a spicy tomato sauce! We have been showering her with compliments. I feel like I don’t know her, but I do. She is me!

Really? Yes, really.

I’ve found myself surpassing my own expectations not only in imagination with this past weekend’s menu, but also in the expanding versatility of my kitchen skills, and also not to mention my growing repertoire of kitchen gear.

I don’t think I ever believed the day would come that I, me myself, would own a set of six cute little ramekins, but I’ve got them, thanks to a loving father’s generous holiday gifting! In my family, instead of, “secret santas,” our holiday gift exchange is known as, “secret angels.”  So fittingly, in addition to my precious new set of baking cups, my dad also got me my very own angel food cake pan, which will come in mighty handy as a special someone’s birthday approaches and I prepare for a second birthday cake attempt! (My guardian angel showed up after all!)

I had such a great weekend with all my kitchen successes that it seems perhaps now I have set the bar kind of high. How am I going to show up this random weekend of glamour when Valentine’s Day rolls around? And what about when my egg whites won’t peak at the time appointed for an angel food cake redo? I’m afraid I may just whip my little perfectionist heart out of commission.

But maybe not. I think one of the keys to my success this weekend was that I kept it low key and my tendency for perfectionism in check. These sunny side up baked eggs were inspired simply by the sunny morning that greeted us as we woke up late on Sunday. I made them using some left over spicy tomato sauce, without even referencing the numerous recipes I had read in the days immediately following the acquisition of my newly prized ramekins. I didn’t plan on it, but my intuitive execution of this simple dish made me feel like a natural in the kitchen.

That certainly is a new precedent. For a perfectionist, such relaxed, unpracticed, unprepared for success that is recognized, not most importantly by others, but by myself, is an exception to the rule. This weekend, I didn’t listen to that silly voice in my head that speaks in the language of cognitive distortions. I pushed away those thoughts that insist I have not quite achieved enough, that I have not quite met the expectations set out for me, that I will never be quite perfect, and instead surprised myself with success brought on by thoughts of  encouragement, and perseverance, and praise.

So yes, my skills in the kitchen have improved with practice, of recipes, and cooking techniques, and menu planning, but also with a practice of mindfulness. And thus, I think I have set the bar. I have set it at, “Just believe in yourself.” And I intend to.

Baked Eggs
in Tomato Sauce

4 tablespoons prepared tomato sauce
4 large eggs
salt and pepper
scallions

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Grease four ramekins with a thin coating of butter. Spread one tablespoon of tomato sauce in the bottom of each ramekin. Carefully break one egg into each ramekin. Sprinkle with sea salt and freshly ground pepper. Place the ramekins in a round cake pan, and pour about 1/2 cup of water in the bottom of the pan. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes, depending on preference for runny or firm yolks, until whites are set. Garnish with fresh scallions. Serve with bacon and a toasted bagel for scooping.