Warm Brussels Sprout Salad With Roots, Radishes & Toasted Coconut

This bowl of veggies speaks to my seasonal confusion. Warm brussies at the bottom, watermelon radishes chilling on the top with roots, macadamia nuts and toasted coconut. It’s some sort of a fall meets spring culinary mullet. Business on the bottom, party on the top. But, I’m not complaining. If I have to stare at a mullet of any kind, I choose this one. Or, one of my Dad’s headshots from the 80’s. He had a glorious and naturally curly mullet. The photo is in black and white, with a soft glow emanating off of his ringlets. It’s really something. So, I should change my statement and say that if I have to stare at a brightly colored metaphorical mullet, it would be this salad. You know, since my preferred black and white mullet slot is already taken. I like to clear these things up. They feel important.

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Grain-Free Ginger Cherry Berry Scones

A couple of weeks ago, I found myself sulking outside of a local bakery. This isn’t a gluten-free bakery, but they do make a fantastic gluten-free scone. I arrived too late in the day, and as usual, they were completely sold out. However, my wheat-eating husband bought himself some ridiculous looking apple-stuffed, almond-stuffed, hopes and dreams-stuffed croissant. I was irrationally upset about this situation. I could feel my blood pressure rising as I watched bits of pastry flake off onto his shirt, and tiny bits of apple adhere to his adorable mouth corners. All I wanted was a scone. I briefly considered not eating breakfast at all. How could I? I had been dreaming of that scone for… well, at least the last thirty minutes. I could taste the flaky bits of berry filled dough in my mind. No other breakfast would measure up. I was on a scone only hunger strike. I was quickly becoming an insane person. This happens when hunger sets in. I’m still myself, but the drama is cranked up to eleven, and the tears start to nag at my ducts, begging to be released. It’s as if I’ve melded my physical person with the frenetic emotional instability of Buster Bluth, and the overly emotive face of Oscar The Grouch. If you’re wondering, my husband really loves when this happens (he doesn’t).  May I remind you that all of this is happening OVER A SCONE. Ugh.  […]

Quick Pickled Red Onions & Radishes

Cinco de Mayo is swiftly approaching.

I’m not Mexican. But, on Cinco de Mayo I get to pretend. I get to high five all the tacos with my face, raise a margarita or two to my mouth hole, and worship all things guacamole. This is special for me. But, almost any excuse to put guacamole or carne asada in my face is special for me. Do we need an excuse? I’m not sure we do. I suppose I could live every day as if it were the fifth of May. Minus the kitschy sombrero wearing and the early afternoon margarita. Yes, every day could be the fifth of May. Therefore every day could be special. Did I just discover the meaning of life? Don’t answer that.  […]

Chocolate Sunshake + Slaying An Anxiety Dragon

A couple weekends back, I found myself crying in a farmers market.

This isn’t typical farmers market behavior. Usually it’s a sunhat wearing, hip checking a vegan to get the best bunches of kale, haggling over baskets of warm strawberries type of situation. But, I haven’t been having a typical week, or month, or year. I used to go to our local farmers market regularly on Sundays. We’d meet up with friends. We’d eat gluten-free crepes, and sweat profusely in the sunshine as we listened to some dude play a sitar. But, in recent months I haven’t been going. My body has been tired, and my mind even more so.  My health will ebb and flow along with my Lyme treatment. Unfortunately, it often gets worse before it gets better. I get trapped in days or weeks or months of feeling like I’m walking through a thick sludge. Exhaustion will creep in and feel debilitating. My normal vivacious self just sits at a hum under a heavy blanket of fatigue. It’s disorienting and frustrating and a breeding ground for anxiety. I stopped doing things that I love to do. Driving became difficult if not impossible. Flowing through a yoga class made me feel like I was suffocating. I’d stare at the door the whole class as if it was the only thing between me and freedom. Walking around the neighborhood I’d feel my heart pounding — my mind racing, telling me that I was too tired, that I wasn’t safe. So, those rows of vendors at our farmers market, selling produce and honey and fancy pickles didn’t feel the same as they did a couple summers ago. Everything was difficult now. Simple every day things become big things. Huge things. Mountains. […]

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