My New Comfort Food

I started this blog to explore the idea that sharing food was about relationships.  I still believe that.  I do believe that the fellowship of a shared meal is like none other.  My big square dining table comfortably seats 8 people for a family style meal.  I truly love sitting at the table all together passing platters of food back and forth.  I get a great deal of satisfaction watching people enjoy the food I have prepared for them.  I think of it as passing my love to you, and watching you enjoy it fills my soul.

I have struggled most of my life with choosing appropriate relationships with people.  I would friend most anyone who showed me attention and let them into the innermost parts of my life and my heart, often to my own detriment.  I was confused by superficial kindness and underlying intentions.  I entered into one relationship after another with friends or lovers who just did not treat me well.

Slowly, through years of introspection with a good therapist, I began to make better choices in my friends.  A few years ago, with a great deal of delight and not a small amount of amazement, I realized that I no longer had people close to me who mistreated me in any way.  Not that my life is without conflict, but there is no one in my inner circle of friends who would willfully manipulate or degrade me.

The structure of my friendscape has changed dramatically over my lifetime.  Now those most close to me are those I choose to be close to me.  I no longer give just anyone access to the most tender parts of myself.  My life is rich and full as a result.  I surround myself with quality friends who nurture me.

In thinking of how my relationships with people have changed, I have begun to reflect on my relationship with food.  I’m not sure I thought of it that way before, having a relationship with food.  I have allowed foods that superficially make me feel good to have a place of great importance in my life.  You know…comfort foods.  For me this is mostly carbohydrates.  Potato soup, crusty bread and butter, a plate full of spaghetti; all of these are comfort foods for me.  The thing is, I don’t feel so great after eating these foods.  I feel sluggish and I don’t sleep well after a large meal heavy with starch. 

My old relationships with people led to depression and degradation, my relationships with these comfort foods lead to low energy, high blood sugar and weight gain.  As I had to change my thinking about who were my friends, I now find myself rethinking what exactly comfort food is to me.  As now, I choose friends who nurture my life; I want to choose foods that nurture my body.

One of the foods I have recently discovered is Blood Orange infused olive oil.  A friend introduced me to a new store  Olive & Co. This is a store devoted mostly to olive oil and different vinegars.  As you walk into the store you come across two long rows of metal urns.  One side has flavor infused olive oils and the other side is olive oils from different regions of the world. 

You do a tasting much like you would at a winery.  They will mix and match the oils with the vinegars until you find exactly what you want.  I left with a bottle of Blood Orange Olive Oil and White Balsamic Vinegar infused with Pear.  This is a wonderful combination.  I have been experimenting combining these flavors with all kinds of greens and other ingredients. 

My favorite is a bed of arugula with thinly sliced red onions, orange segments, slivers of almonds and crumbled Danish Blue Cheese.  These flavors topped with the blood orange/pear vinaigrette are just magical!  The sweet, bitter, earthy flavors all come together and offer a great deal of…yes…comfort.  This food nurtures by body as well as my soul.  It is true comfort food.  I served this salad alongside seared salmon finished with a generous drizzle of the blood orange oil.  It was a beautiful meal, and it left me feeling beautiful. 

I find myself excited to explore this new thinking of comfort foods.  I realize that I don’t have to give up creative cooking to lead a healthier lifestyle.  We can still gather around my table and pass platters of beautiful, satisfying food; basking in the comfort of our love for one another.

www.oliveokc.com

  Olive & Co

Victim or Advocate

To be a victim or an advocate, the accuser or the defender:  that is my conflict.  Emotions are roiling around in my gut till I don’t know which end is up.  I think I think too much.  I think that is why I keep my mind constantly busy planning my next project or the next meal I will prepare or the next party I will throw.  If my mind is busy thinking of what ingredients I need to gather and purchase, how many stores I need to visit to do so, and of all the steps it will take to create the most complicated dish I can think up, then my mind is not free to wander.  It’s not free to ask questions.  Am I a victim or an advocate?  Is my job to be the accuser or the defender?  I keep my mind busy with the details of our next meal in part to keep myself from pondering these questions.

What if I went to the Asian Market, one store, then purchased a salmon fillet, a head of cauliflower and some brown rice.  Then what if I came home and prepared these three ingredients simply.  First, I add 1 cup of brown rice and 2 cups of water in a pot, bring to a boil, cover and simmer for half an hour or so until the liquid is absorbed.  In the meantime I cut the head of cauliflower into ½ inch slabs, drizzle the slabs with olive oil, salt and pepper and roast them in a 450 degree oven for 20 minutes, turning after ten minutes.  Then I sear the salmon in a screaming hot cast iron skillet for 3 or 4 minutes each side, no oil, no seasoning, simply salmon.  This meal is extremely simple. It is also beautiful, satisfying and healthy.  Why complicate things by adding steps and techniques and seasonings?

As a child, I was incested by two men in my family.  Two men that should have protected me took advantage of my innocence.  No, not together.  They didn't know about each other.  Though the time span of the abuse overlapped a bit, it happened at different times.  I have been in years of therapy dealing with this issue.  It has colored and shaped my life in more ways than I can imagine.  Not all bad.  I am more compassionate for my experience.  I have delved into my very soul with introspection.  I have learned not to judge other people because I don’t know their past experiences or current motivations.

Recently, I have been following an issue with a local church that I sometimes attend.  There is word of a registered sex offender who wants to be a part of the fellowship of this church. There are numerous folks, members of this congregation, who have suffered at the hands of sexual predators in one way or another.  As a fellow survivor, I know the pain these individuals’ experience.  I know the anxiety, the anger, the fear and the hurt.  I know the cold sweats, rapid heart beating, sleepless nights.  I understand the distrust of anyone who in any way reminds you of your perpetrator.  I get this, I really do.

I also know that none of us is perfect.  Think of the very worst thing you have done in your entire life.  Imagine being judged by that one act for the rest of your life.  All anyone will ever know about you is that one slice of yourself.  I think that would be a horrible fate.  No chance for repentance, no opportunity to redefine yourself.

The ambivalence I feel about the circumstances surrounding this church right now brings back the ambivalence I feel about my two perpetrators.  In my early 30’s, I was able to confront both men, bringing light to the darkness of their deeds.  The first man wept.  He took full responsibility for his actions.  I felt his pain as he apologized.  He owned what he had done so many years ago, no excuses, just sorrow.  In the short time before his death a few years later, he and I were able to develop the beginnings of a healthy relationship. 

The second man’s reaction was so different.  He did not accept that his actions were bad.  He said that all he did, he did out of love.  He blamed Oprah for everyone getting so upset about things now.  He took no responsibility for his actions.  He in no way owned the effect that he had on my life.  His biggest concern was who I might have told about “us”.  Today, I have nothing to do with this man, it is not safe.  Not that he could physically do anything to me now, I would not allow it. It is not emotionally safe for me to associate with this man.

I am left with ambivalence that feels like the conflict of two red hot boulders churning over again and again in my chest.  To think on it creates a cyclic avalanche of emotion.  So my mind tries to go to something else, something safe.  Like household chores, or shopping, or what’s for dinner?

Recovery is like peeling layers off an onion.  After every layer, it feels like you have made it, the great epiphany.  Then as time wears on, you realize there is more work to me done.  That is where I am today.  Uncovering this great conflict inside me of empathy for my fellow survivors and sympathy for the perpetrator feels like the final layer of recovery.  Realizing the busyness of my brain feels like a final mountain to scale to finally achieve complete happiness.