tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58022024829515393142024-03-13T22:03:06.248-07:00Hungry For The TruthRecovering from America's Food Culture: A How-ToStacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.comBlogger77125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-75625565357282711102012-10-11T08:51:00.001-07:002012-10-11T08:51:39.543-07:00I've Moved!Hey Hungry For The Truth Readers -<br />
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I haven't flown the coop, only moved. Actually I decided to simplify things and put my blog and website under a single umbrella, so you can now read my postings at www.staceymorris.com .<br />
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Hope you'll come along for the ride. Here's my latest post:<br />
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http://www.staceymorris.com/?p=160<br />
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Happy Thursday<br />
XO<br />
StaceyStacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-73939046619288640672012-09-09T11:42:00.000-07:002012-09-10T11:57:21.452-07:00Garden RaguIt's not really a revelation that I love cooking from scratch. And since I'm fond of avoiding things out of a jar or can whenever possible, September is a banner month for me because of tomato season. Case in point: Bill and I had a sudden surplus of tomatoes from the four plants we brought home from an area nursery one sunny day in early June. We slept late this morning, and after a walk to soak in some sun, were hungry for something of substance. Both of us took one look at the soft orange and red globes on the counter and threw ourselves into another collaboration: He diced the onions, I chopped the tomatoes, and then set some chicken stock in a sauce pan to boil (see recipe below for complete details).<br />
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It was a single-dish, brunch inspired by Chef Suvir Saran's Meatless Ragu that he made yesterday at the 12th Annual Saratoga Wine & Food and Fall Ferrari Festival in Saratoga Springs. Suvir was the emcee for the Adirondack Appliance Cast Iron Chef Final Round between Jaime Ortiz of the Angelo Mazzone restaurant empire in Albany and Schenectady and Patrick Longton of The Wishing Well in Saratoga Springs. Later, Suvir headed to the Adirondack Appliance tent to sign copies of his latest cookbook, "Masala Farm," and offer a few pointers on healthy, <i>delicious</i> eating.<br />
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"I don't know if I'm changing lives, but I hope I am," said Saran as he surveyed the hundreds who'd turned out for the competition and to sample the wines and cheeses of Italy. "I want people to know that eating foods that are healthy can actually be quite a delicious experience." And then he got to work chopping vegetables for his Meatless Ragu.<br />
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Delicious indeed. My meatless ragu didn't mimic his ingredients exactly, but it was a beautiful blend of ingredients straight from the soil: onions, tomatoes, rosemary, oregano, and olive oil. This ragu even included some tomato tops and bottoms that normally would have been tossed because they're not symmetrical enough to fit in a sandwich. Trust me, they still taste like great tomatoes and work beautifully in a sauce. I stockpile them in tupperware and by week's end have a healthy supply.<br />
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When doing a ragu like this, the ingredients may be simple, but there's an undeniable time investment required, and let me be clear about this: THAT'S OK! If you believe that punching 4:00 minutes into a microwave digit panel is enough time spent on a meal, I urge you to reconsider, for reasons revolving around flavor, health, and economics. At the risk of sounding trite, you really are what you eat. And maybe it's not practical to cook like this everyday, but why not spend an hour on a weekend and make something truly delightful?<br />
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Yes, this ragu is a bit like a toddler in that it needs constant supervision. You can walk away for a minute or two but for best results you've got to stir it (and the pasta) every few minutes, and watch to make sure the flame's not too high. If it cooks too fast the vegetables just won't have the same texture or sweetness. Blended with al dente penne, this chunky ragu accented with fresh herbs was divine and healthy in equal measure. Therefore, I felt a moral obligation to post this on a sunny Sunday afternoon, in hopes that not some but ALL of you will give tomato and onion chopping a chance. You just may even enjoy being an alchemist in the kitchen and give the microwave a few days off.<br />
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<b>Garden Ragu</b><br />
<i>(Like all home-cooking, use what you have available plus instinct to guide you. This isn't baking, so exact amounts aren't crucial)</i><br />
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2 medium sized onions, diced<br />
4-6 large tomatoes, diced or cut in chunks<br />
Extra Virgin Olive Oil<br />
Salt and Sugar to taste<br />
2 springs of fresh Rosemary, roughly chopped<br />
1 small handful of fresh Oregano, roughly chopped<br />
(if you don't have fresh, use a tablespoon of dried for each)<br />
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1 cup dried penne pasta (I use Bio-Nature gluten-free pasta)<br />
1/2 to 1 cup chicken or vegetable stock<br />
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In a large skillet, heat oil until warm and add the onions. Extra Virgin Olive Oil smokes easily so don't have the heat too high. Saute the onions until soft and translucent, not caramelized. Add chopped tomatoes and simmer over low to medium heat, stirring every few minutes to ensure vegetables cook evenly. Onions and tomatoes should be well oiled, so add more oil as needed. <br />
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While vegetables simmer and get softer, bring 1/2 cup chicken stock to boil in medium sized saucepan. Add penne. There should be enough liquid so that the pasta is a little more than submerged. Turn heat down, add a spoonful of oil, and stir. Cover when not stirring, pasta should be gently simmering and stirred every few minutes so it doesn't stick together.<br />
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When vegetables have become soft and chunky, add fresh herbs and mix well. Then add a bit of salt and sugar to taste (about a teaspoon each). If vegetables are nicely oiled but feel a little dry and not saucy enough, add a tiny bit of hot water to the pan. By this time, pasta should have absorbed all the liquid to become al dente (the Italians use this term for pasta that's not mushy). Add pasta to the saucepan of ragu and stir till it's all well blended. Serve immediately. Normally I love pasta with a sprinkling of Peccorino, but this ragu is so good on its own, I don't want the delicate flavors to be overpowered so I skip it. Buon Appetito!<br />
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<i>Chef and cookbook author Suvir Saran makes his Meatless Ragu at the Adirondack Appliance booth at the Sept. 8 Saratoga Wine & Food and Fall Ferrari Festival at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center</i><br />
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<i>The next morning, inspired by Suvir Saran's meatless creation, I made my own version of a ragu sans beef</i></div>
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<i>Add a little gluten-free penne and it's pure magic</i></div>
Stacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-84577258426510483752012-08-31T11:25:00.002-07:002012-08-31T11:26:01.762-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">
I never get tired of reminding everyone how wonderfully delicious gluten-free eating is. Case in point, this morning's breakfast: Potatoes in cellar, Rosemary in garden, light olive oil in pantry = Chef Bill's magnificent Pommes Frites. Life is Delicious!</div>
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<br />Stacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-59911207117714007192012-08-16T07:19:00.005-07:002012-08-16T07:26:05.680-07:00Morning Parfait: Blueberries, Steel Cut Oats, and YogurtAs deep as my adoration of sunny side up eggs is, variety is the spice of life. This morning, my pallate was calling for flavors and textures beyond that of creamy egg yolks and sauteed vegetables. I love carbs in the morning and it's usually the fibrous, whole grain variety I go for, though I'm the first to admit that a stack of gluten-free pancakes with real syrup and butter is a beautiful thing. (More on that a.m. indulgence when the cold weather and fall foliage comes to my neighborhood).<br />
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It had been way too long since my last visit to the bag of Bob's Red Mill Gluten-Free Steel Cut Oats in my cupboard, but it's August and a steaming bowl of hot cereal wasn't in the cards, so I took a different route. My cravings and pantry inventory conspired to make the perfect breakfast parfait. </div>
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If soaked overnight, bullet-hard steel cut oats soften perfectly. Since the refrigerator still had a huge haul from blueberry picking last week, I decided to puree a batch and simmer it down to a reduction. In went the oats and some shredded coconut to soak overnight. In the morning, I added goat milk yogurt. (When I say I'm dairy-free it's the cow products I lay off of. Sheep and goat products agree with me just fine, but I only eat them about twice a week). The result was a fabulous breakfast loaded with flavor, complex carbs, fiber, and vitamins...plus a little calcium and protein. Perfect before a workout. And may I say...Thank GOD for Bob's Red Mill. Their gluten-free products are reasonably priced and fantastic!</div>
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<b>Blueberry Breakfast Parfait</b></div>
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Serves 1</div>
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2 cups fresh or frozen blueberries</div>
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1/4 cup Bob's Red Mill Gluten-Free Steel Cut Oats</div>
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1/4 cup Bob's Red Mill Flaked Unsweetened Coconut</div>
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1/2 cup goat's milk yogurt</div>
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Puree blueberries in a food processor until berries are liquidy but still a little chunky. Place in a saucepan and simmer on low heat uncovered for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally. The berries should be liquidy but with a little thickness. Turn off heat and add oatmeal and coconut, stirring thoroughly. Cover and let sit overnight. In the morning add goat yogurt and stir until blended. Serve immediately. </div>
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<i>Note - Sweetening with a tablespoon of agave is optional, I like tasting the fruit and coconut unobstructed so I left if out. </i></div>
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<i>Bob's Red Mill - His gluten-free products are usually in the picture on the mornings I don't have eggs</i><br />
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<i>The perfect breakfast parfait - served with a side of Inspiration</i></div>
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Stacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-16614213097225815412012-08-06T19:14:00.002-07:002012-08-07T07:01:23.777-07:00The Joys of Chickpea Flour...and Lucini<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Chickpea Frittata with Pesto</span></b><br />
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Since going gluten-free three and a half years ago, I've had a longstanding love affair with polenta. It's been a sensual substitute for bread on many an occasion. Sometimes I'll bake it in a lasagna pan, then slice it into squares and sautee it in olive oil, the perfect companion to eggs or sausage. There's also the whisked on the stove top version which results in a creamier rendition, sort of like a very thick hot cereal. I love using a yellow, puffy cloud of it as the perfect underpinning to a juicy pork chop or crispy piece of roast chicken.<br />
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So when I came across a bag of Chickpea Frittata mix in my supermarket's gluten-free section, I was intrigued. Chickpea flour was the only ingredient, and all the instructions asked is that I mix the 8.8 ounces of flour with 3 cups of water, 2 tablespoons of oil, and some salt. The simplicity drew me in, but the brand name sold me. Lucini. Makers of my favorite olive oil and tomato sauce. All their products are organic and have a wonderful, clean taste. Their extra virgin olive oil is pungent and deep emerald, but I also adore their lemon-tinged olive oil which is infused with real lemon essence, not a fragrance. Lucini's jars of tomato sauce have taken starring roles in gluten-free pasta dinners and steaming bowls of my tomato soup, which I sometimes morph into cream of tomato with the addition of room temperature chevre. A few turns of the whisk, and viola, a velvety cream of tomato without the cow dairy.<br />
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But back to the chickpea fritatta. I'd just made a batch of pesto the day before which was aching for a purpose. Since I love polenta topped with pesto, I decided to give this a whirl and let's just say the results were DIVINE! Unlike polenta, there was no gritty texture to these heavenly triangles of warm, yellow dough. The consistency was as creamy as a cheesecake, but with the substance of a soft bread...kind of difficult to describe - you've just got to experience it for yourself.<br />
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The cool thing about my newfound gastronomic love is that it tastes amazing, and is SO much healthier than most other flours because of its protein and fiber content. Check Lucini's site for store locaters, or order online. You won't be sorry. http://www.lucini.com/shop/cinque-e-cinque-traditional .<br />
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As I said, the recipe for the chickpea frittata is simple. It can be topped with a good marinara, some fresh herbs and olive oil, a mushroom sauce....just about anything you'd put on toasted bread or pizza. I highly recommend homemade pesto because it's basil season and plentiful at farmers markets. I have no formal measured recipe for it. Good pesto is a matter of texture. You need a base of fresh leaves, enough olive oil to make a paste, several cloves of garlic for flavor, and grated peccorino for flavor and further texture. Here's how I make it, you can play with this version and change ratios as you see fit. I usually add more oil at the end because I like pesto to be nice and liquidy rather than chunky. It was the perfect topping to a piping hot slice of chickpea frittata this morning. And needless to say, gave me more than enough energy for a DDPYOGA Strength Builder workout.<br />
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<b>Stacey's Homemade Pesto</b><br />
1 generous bouquet of fresh basil from the farmer's market<br />
1 bottle Lucini Extra Virgin Olive Oil<br />
4 large cloves garlic, peeled<br />
1 tub of grated Peccorino Romano Cheese<br />
1/2 lemon or t tablespoon bottled lemon juice<br />
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Pick leaves from stem and place in a food processor. You may need to grind them in shifts and not add all at once in the beginning. Add garlic cloves, 1/3 cup of cheese, and about a half cup olive oil, or enough to make a paste out of the leaves. Pulse for 20-30 seconds at a time until well blended. Add more leaves if there are any until all the leaves are blended in. You may need to alternately add more oil and cheese, depending on how pungent you want the flavor to be and how liquidy you prefer your pesto. Pour into a serving bowl and add the juice from half a lemon or the tablespoon of bottled juice and stir thoroughly. Serve immediately. Cover tightly and refrigerate any leftovers.<br />
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Bon Appetit!<br />
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<i>Fresh out of the oven...</i></div>
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<i>A fitting crown to a delicious carb</i></div>
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<i>...we really liked it</i></div>
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<br />Stacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-65689035587485604712012-07-18T12:55:00.001-07:002012-07-19T07:07:58.728-07:00The Perfect Post Workout Snack...or whenever you're craving something with sweetness and carbs. This little gem delivers both, plus a little clean protein to balance it out, and the ingredients are simple: one toasted slice of gluten-free bread or roll, a few tablespoons of almond or sunflower seed butter, and a generous slathering of fruit spread.<br />
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After a more vigorous DDPYOGA workout (Double Black Diamond, Diamond Cutter) or dumbbell lifting at the gym, I'm RAVENOUS. It's also the perfect time to feed throbbing muscles which are desperately in want of a glucose hit. So I put this easy combination together for a recent recharge in between lunch and dinner. I've also used this as a breakfast. It's sooo good. Especially when I have a soft, spongey roll from my area gluten-free bakery on hand. If you don't live near Albany, N.Y. and can't get to Sherry Lynn's (http://www.sherrylynnsglutenfree.net) the Schar brand makes wonderful rolls and breads, from baguettes to ciabatta (http://www.schar.com/us/gluten-free-products). </div>
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Yesterday I was especially fortunate because the fruit spread used was from my friends Suvir Saran and Charlie Burd. My favorite gentlemen farmers lovingly handcrafted this glistening elixir in the Masala Farm kitchen with the help of Charlie's dear Grandmother who was visiting from West Virginia. If the words Masala Farm sound familiar, it's because Suvir is a renowned chef, lecturer, Celebrity Top Chef star, and cookbook author. His most recent cookbook is "Masala Farm: Stories and Recipes From An Uncommon Life In The Country." The book weaves a tapestry of recipes and farm anecdotes so enticing, you just might find yourself scouting the Washington County real estate ads. </div>
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Suvir also has two previous books to his credit: "Indian Home Cooking" and "American Masala." Both pay culinary homage to his Motherland of India as they inform a few American classics such as Suvir's succulent "Tamarind-Glazed Meatloaf" or his "Fried Chicken Masala," a creation accented by a buttermilk brining and a fragrant sprinkling of Garam Masala.</div>
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Suvir has not only given me wonderful recipes, his books impart a beautiful philosophy towards food and eating that had been sorely missing from my life for the majority of it. After reading his books and interviewing him on numerous occasions, I concluded that Suvir is indeed onto something: Kitchens are sacred territory and the central nerve of the home.</div>
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“In the Indian home, the kitchen is where we create magical tastes that have the power to heal the mind, body, and soul. All cultures that are a happy people meet in the kitchen,” he says. “I want to encourage people to go back to the kitchen and start nurturing. You are what you eat. And so my philosophy, and that of my parents and grandparents, is to cook, share, and eat with care and thought.”</div>
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Suvir and Charlie are big on sharing. They gifted me with this jam on a recent visit for some of Masala Farm's spectacular goose eggs. When I arrived Suvir, Charlie, and his grandmother were a three-person assemblyline, steadily cranking out little mountains of pitted cherries from a local farm. It was a mammoth task, but a labor of Love, Suvir assured me, as he place a jar of blackberry jam (they make several varieties) into my grateful hands. </div>
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I took it home and put it in safe keeping for the occasion when I truly craved it. Yesterday the occasion arose and I ate Suvir's labor of Love with unmitigated pleasure, and the awareness that sharing is an integral element of our sacred kitchens.<br />
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<i>Perfect after a workout...or for breakfast</i></div>
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<i>Charlie's lovely grandmother, Bernice Burd, cheerfully works the jam-making assembly line at Masala Farm. Behind her, Suvir doesn't let the pits get him down</i></div>
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<i>The glorious fruits of Washington County</i></div>
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<i>A tub full of cherries - a fantasy come true for me!</i></div>
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<i>Let the alchemy begin. Eventually this morphs into....</i></div>
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<i>...Divinity in a jar. </i></div>
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<i>For more information on Suvir Saran's books or the farm, visit www.suvir.com .</i></div>
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</div>Stacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-85066801067957187752012-07-12T09:31:00.001-07:002012-07-12T10:05:12.604-07:00Mint Chocolate Chip Cookies<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Something Sweet...Every now and then, I just have to. So I tried a new product last week: 1-2-3 Gluten Free Chewy Chipless Cookie Mix. www.123glutenfree.com .</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Since it's a chipless product, I threw in a bag of mint chocolate chips that had been in the pantry for months and were just begging for a purpose. The combination was DIVINE. And by that I don't mean the cookies were OK for a gluten-free product. The 16-year-old food critic of the house who's not gluten-free declared them the best chocolate chip cookies he's ever had. Further evidence that eating gluten-free is not a punishment, but rather, a pleasure. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">And speaking of pleasure (one of my favorite topics), part of how I'm maintaining a 185-pound weight drop includes retooling my definition of pleasure. These cookies were fairly good sized so I had <i>one</i>. I was clear about the purpose of the cookie: a little psychological pleasure. And make no mistake, it's an essential element of life. Just ask any chronic yo-yo dieter if you don't believe me. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">But the operative word here is a <i>little</i> pleasure. I ate the cookie with focus and awareness, enjoying every crumb. Four years ago, my definition of pleasure was to eat as much as I wanted of a good-tasting food and it effortlessly spiraled into a way of life for me that felt normal. It was also a custom that got me into a bit of a pickle physically. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">So yesterday, instead of half a batch of these little gems, I ate one. Something I've learned in all this: the freezer is my FRIEND! I'm now the queen of squirreling away a surplus of Almond Meringue Cookies or slices of gluten-free chocolate cake. It's wonderful to have them lying in wait at my disposal when the mood for pleasure (not to be confused with numbing out and escaping) strikes me. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">These lengths I go to may sound time-consuming and elaborate but they're really not. Like anything else, if I do it over and over it becomes...you guessed it...a habit! And I do it because I want to keep my current wardrobe. And because it's so much easier to move around the world (and staircases and the back seat of a two-door Hyundai) if I eat for one and not seven. So now, smaller, more strategically applied forms of pleasure it is. Believe me, it's a very fair trade.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Bon Appetit!</span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kNboklnDQ_Q/T_77xyqCBXI/AAAAAAAABBk/O-5gg0E1Hbo/s1600/ChocolateChips.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kNboklnDQ_Q/T_77xyqCBXI/AAAAAAAABBk/O-5gg0E1Hbo/s320/ChocolateChips.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>Stacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-83548931184021783172012-07-06T15:43:00.002-07:002012-07-06T15:43:35.851-07:00Eggplant-ChegoEggplant-Chego: This is LIVING!<br />
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Chef Bill made me the most delightful dinner the other night - a cleaned up version of one of my favorites: Eggplant Parm. This dish may look elaborate and involved, but I assure you, it's very do-able. The crux of it involves dredging eggplant slices in gluten-free bread crumbs and then baking them until crisp. The slices are then layered in a baking dish with layers of a Bolognese-style meat sauce and topped with slices of Manchego cheese, a sheep's milk cheese. The result is positively delicious and no yucky, heavy feeling afterwards because my pipes aren't clogged with gluten or cow dairy. If you desire a more specific recipe, give me a shout and I'll have Chef Bill dictate his magic formula for all you wonderful readers. Buon Appetito!<br />
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<br />Stacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-56577776498442718642012-07-03T16:39:00.002-07:002012-07-04T10:09:00.562-07:00<b>The Simple Joys of Swai</b><br />
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Swai is one of my favorite types of fish: inexpensive, and surprisingly moist and tender if cooked via Chef Bill's recipe below. Probably another reason I like it so much is that it bears a striking resemblance to catfish. I moan over this recipe, and I'm not a big fish lover. The key is not overcooking. According to Chef Bill, it's best to be less concerned with the blackening than with the proper cooking of the fish. It does <i>not</i> have to be traditionally blackened to taste good. Chef Bill made this for dinner the other night, and true our gluten-free nature, served it with a side of homemade potato hash. It's also great with green beans, sauteed spinach, baked zucchini, a side of basmati rice, a baked potato, gluten-free cappellini with oil and garlic - just about anything. Summer's the perfect time to enjoy a little Swai. Let me know how you like the recipe - Bon Appetit!<br />
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<b>Sauteed Swai</b><br />
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Two Swai filets<br />
Olive Oil<br />
Good Quality Cajun Spice such as Emeril's Essence or Paul Prudhomme's Fish Magic<br />
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Lightly brush or rub filets with olive oil. Fairly heavily season both sides of the filet with Cajun spice. Heat approximately 3 TBS. olive oil in a large frying pan till almost smoking. Sear fish on one side approximately two minutes. Flip fish over with spatula and sear for two minutes. Add one pat butter to pan until pan is about smoking. Sear for 40 seconds each side. Serve immediately.<br />
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A Glorious and Gluten-Free Meal, compliments of Chef Bill...</div>
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<br />Stacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-2139178805171019812012-06-19T06:44:00.001-07:002012-06-19T06:53:32.430-07:00Morning Glory: Baked CherriesHave I mentioned that I'm in love with this little clay baking pot I found at Good Will last year? It's amazing. After having so many good things come out of it after 30 minutes in the oven, I'm convinced it's an alchemist. I've baked everything from mini-casseroles and leftover soup to duck eggs over potatoes and coconut milk rice pudding in this adorable little cassoulet. There must be something about the covered-clay-baking-process that turns the ordinary into the sublime. Eggs are more evenly cooked, desserts are more soft and creamy, and soups are imbued with new flavor and life. This morning I decided to give baked cherries a whirl. <br />
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My Ayurvedic constitution is Kapha (http://doshaquiz.chopra.com) so maybe that's why I prefer warm foods vs. ice-cold. Warm fruit out of the oven is simply more enjoyable to me, whether it's apples, peaches, or berries. The heat, when applied gently and for the right amount of time, beautifully brings out the flavor, as well as a river of juices you just wouldn't get from fruit out of the fridge, or even at room temperature. One of my most adored fruits are now in season so what better time to do the baking experiment: a crock full of washed bing cherries baked covered at 335 for 30 minutes. This morning the cherries were straight out of the fridge; if you're using room temperature cherries, the time or temperature might vary. I always turn the oven off at the end and let them marinate a little more, say 10 minutes or so. The result is pure Nirvana: The beauty and fragrance of a cherry pie minus the white stuff to wreak havoc with the blood sugar.<br />
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The photos might not do their splendor justice, so you'll just have to try it out to see what I mean. Any covered casserole dish will do if you don't have a crock. Let the cherry-baking begin! Bon Appetit...<br />
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<br />Stacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-79469353895603614642012-06-11T19:27:00.001-07:002012-07-06T14:58:35.549-07:00Almond Joy - My A.M. Ritual ImprovedEspresso in the a.m. has been a ritual since the 80's. Once I discovered its hedonistic depth and flavor, there was no going back to coffee. The thing is, I've never been a black coffee kind of drinker, so the octane of my espresso was always tempered with a generous splash of cream. It was my own version of a strong, full-bodied latte.<br />
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Three years ago, when I found DDPYOGA and the guidance of Diamond Dallas Page and Terri Lange, they strongly urged me to give up cow dairy. It was sound advice, but I also knew I was in no way, shape or form ready or willing to give up cream from my beloved a.m. ritual. When I undertook a vow to change my life, health, and food choices, I knew that to make it work long-term, I had to be realistic. For me, this meant keeping pleasure in the equation to a certain extent...it would be crucial to the longevity of my changes. The deal I made with myself was as follows: cow cheese takes a hike; cream in the espresso stays in the picture. This decision was due in large part to never finding a suitable cream substitute. I didn't like the fake creamers or the substitutes made of soy or coconut. Then oneday, an unexpected revelation: Almond Milk makes FABULOUS latte's. <br />
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It all came about quite by accident while vacationing at my friend Rene's house. Rene is also a recent 'no cow dairy' convert and drinks only Almond Milk. My first morning there I was horrified to discover she hadn't had time to shop for cream, and I was too groggy for a supermarket run, so I bit the bullet and heated Almond Milk on the stove in a saucepan in tandem with the percolating Bialetti.<br />
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"It's gonna be horrible," I thought to myself as I mixed the two together in a mug. Then I took a sip. Then I smiled in delight. That was a year ago. Suffice it to say, I don't buy cream anymore. I'm not saying Almond Milk tastes the same. How could it? It's an entirely different substance with significantly less fat, but somehow, it still works. And it has loads more nutrition (Calcium, Vitamin E, Vitamin D, Phosphorus, Manganese) than cream. Now that my palate is acclimated to it, cream tastes a little heavy and odd when I'm dining out and it's the only option. <br />
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The key to a good espresso latte is adding enough Almond Milk to make it milky and lush without overpowering the coffee. I use about a half cup of espresso to 1 cup of Almond Milk. Another way of gauging it is color: I prefer my Almond Latte's to be a deep beige. If you're not into espresso, use whatever coffee you're accustomed to. So if you're a regular coffee drinker, I hope you'll give the Almond option a try, and let me know how you like it. Oh, and it's also FANTASTIC chilled...just in time for heatwave season. <br />
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<i>And last but not least: my favorite brand is <b>Blue Diamond's Almond Breeze</b>, Unsweetened. It's only 40 calories a cup, loaded with nutrients, and unloaded with sugar. Sweetened varieties can range from 60 to 90 calories a cup and I'd rather spend the calories elsewhere. </i><br />
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Bon Appetit!<br />
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<br />Stacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-24424474071584077382012-06-05T08:28:00.003-07:002012-06-05T17:09:03.413-07:00The Sweet Sound of Guided Meditation<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Last night I needed some comfort. Rather urgently. It was the end of a rather drawn-out and trying day, and I felt my irateness rising, slumped at the computer answering e-mails and taking care of back-logged business, noting that the day's "To Accomplish" list looked woefully unchecked. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm in the midst of maintaining a 185 weight loss. The process began in January of 2009. On the surface, it seemed like everything fell seamlessly into place: I found DDPYOGA and began doing it; I listened to the advice of Dallas Page and Terri Lange and stopped eating gluten and cow dairy, and among other milestones that year, I was spurred by my steady weight change and decided to train for and complete Avon's walking marathon for breast cancer research. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The steady shrinking of my hipline garnered a lot of oooh and aahhs from those around me and I'm not going to pretend I wasn't ecstatic because of it. But there were emotional demons to conquor before the poundage faded away. All along, even when I was 300 pounds + for so many years, I've made sure to pay careful attention to the part of me that is incorporeal. Sure it's a fact that the body needs care, but I've come to realize that the outer is only a reflection of the inner afterall, so what good does it do to focus solely on calories-in and sit-ups? I've been down that road before, twice to the tune of two 100-pound weight losses and subsequent regains. Not interested.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So last night, as I felt the breezey undercurrents of emotional turmoil gaining velocity, I knew the breeze could easily churn into funnel clouds if I didn't acknowledge them with a time out. Four years ago, the time-out would have consisted of me beelining into the kitchen for the most easily accessible fistfull of simple carbs. I no longer attempt to solve problems this way. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Instead, I decided that some soothing of my Spirit was in order. I employ a variety of remedies for this ranging from getting down on the floor and stretching to candlelight and incense, flipping on some relaxation music, or one of my favorites: reaching for the headphones and turning on a guided meditation. There's nothing like a gentle, calming voice to guide me back into the gale-free zone of serenity again. Shelley Cummins is one of my favorite purveyors of the guided meditation. She's a spiritual teacher and yogini I've studied with for years, and Shelley conducts workshops around the world. Since I can't always get to where she is, I thank God for her MP3 downloads. Last night I took refuge in her Tonglen Breathing Meditation, a transformational breathing practice meaning "to send and to receive."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Shelley's meditation downloads, books, and yoga DVD's are available on Amazon ( www.amazon.com/Divine-Breath/dp/B001BLKNVI/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1338931403&sr=8-3 )</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As I drifted off to sleep last night to the strains of the meditation, with seagulls and ocean waves interspersed with Shelley's gentle directives, I was truly at peace. How good it felt to listen to what my body and soul really wanted and <i>give</i> it to them. To me, that's the essence of real nourishment.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>For more information on Shelley Cummins, visit www.jaisriyogis.com </i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>Stacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-57117482808545821862012-05-24T16:33:00.000-07:002012-06-05T14:26:25.578-07:00A Recent Gluten and Dairy-Free* Lunch<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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OK everyone, I have just one question to ask: Do I look like I'm suffering?<br />
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Chef Bill recently surprised me with this creation: a pan-seared burger with Montreal spice and melted goat gouda, served on sauted spinach and onions, and topped with an over-easy fried egg sprinkled with Paprika. Every millimeter of it was mouthwatering. The point I hope you've already connected with is, clean eating can be FABULOUS! It's all in how you play it. <br />
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Many of you know about my yolk fetish (Bill definitely does), so it was with great pleasure that I dove into this succulent concoction. When possible I food combine (eat protein and carbs at separate times). In general when it comes to burgers, I can do without a bun, it's the cheese that's non-negotiable. Besides this was so off the carts in flavor and texture, I was too busy to notice. One look a the photos and I hope it's clear that it's totally possible to clean and decadent!<br />
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Bon Appetit!<br />
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<i>* By Dairy-Free, I'm referring to cow dairy</i><br />
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<span id="goog_1723316396"></span><span id="goog_1723316397"></span>Stacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-16175544162131599792012-05-22T13:35:00.002-07:002012-06-05T14:26:25.572-07:00Greens and Beans<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; border-collapse: collapse; display: table; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; font-size: inherit; line-height: 1.2em; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;"><tbody style="line-height: 1.2em; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;">
<tr style="display: table-row; line-height: 1.2em; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; vertical-align: inherit;"><td style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; display: table-cell; font: inherit; line-height: 1.2em; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;" valign="top">Vegetables and I are still a work in progress. It's true I've dropped 185 pounds via DDPYOGA and clean eating, but I've yet to develop a burning passion for eating my veggies as regularly as my nutritionist (and DDP and Terri Lange) say I should. Often, I modify their obtrusive texture by transforming them into velvety purees or comforting soups. <br />
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Case in point: the succulent soup recipe below that my significant other (a trained chef) made me last night for dinner. He adapted it from the cookbook that Albany, N.Y.'s incomparable Cafe Capriccio published 20 years ago. <br />
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It's a simple, easy recipe that I love for both its flavor and ability to deliver a nutritional punch of fiber, greens, and in this case, protein (I made it the main course by topping it with two eggs poached in chicken broth). It was a glorious meal, not just because it tasted so good, but because I evaded the dubious task of having to down a big bowls of cold greens. Instead, I sat down to a nice, piping hot bowl of THIS!<br />
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<b>Greens and Beans</b><br />
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4 large cloves garlic chopped<br />
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1 1 pound can cannelini beans</div>
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1 large bag spinach or one head kale</div>
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5 strips bacon cooked and chopped (not crisp)</div>
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6 cups chicken stock (we used Swanson's low-sodium)</div>
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3 twists fresh pepper</div>
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dash sea salt</div>
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2 <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1337718099_0" style="line-height: 1.2em; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;">Tbs</span>. Olive Oil</div>
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1 Tbs. bacon grease</div>
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In a large wok or Dutch oven, blanch garlic and olive oil and cook until just softened over medium heat. Add greens and wilt. Add beans, chopped bacon, and stock, and simmer for 20 minutes. Serve. <i>Optional: sprinkle with Peccorino cheese (a sheep milk cheese similar to parmesan); or top with two eggs poached in chicken broth.</i></div>
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</tbody></table>Stacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-83769644286711007082012-05-16T11:18:00.001-07:002012-05-16T11:35:20.840-07:00Arthur Boorman Tonight on DDP Radio!<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 19px;"><strong style="line-height: 1.2em; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;">DDP Radio Welcomes Special Guest From Team DDPYOGA, Arthur Boorman</strong></span></div>
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<strong style="line-height: 1.2em; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;">Wednesday May 16, 2012 @ 9 PM EST </strong></div>
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Some of you, from my YouTube video <b>www.youtube.com/watch?v=mM7TX6Y6f9s</b> know that I had a lightbulb moment one afternoon in 2009 while watching Oprah. There on the screen emanated Carnie Wilson, looking thinner, happier, and more radiant than I'd ever seen her. When I learned that Diamond Dallas Page and his DDPYOGA helped her attain such an achievement, I did some immediate Googling and found the Team DDP Yoga site, the DVD's, and the wonderful online journal of Terri Lange, Godmother of DDPYOGA. I also found Arthur Boorman's <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1337190563_2" style="line-height: 1.2em; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qX9FSZJu448&feature=g-all-u" rel="nofollow" style="color: #003399; line-height: 1.2em; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">famous transformation video</a>.</span></span> To call it remarkable is an understatement. </div>
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For many years, Arthur was as overweight and out of shape as I was that cold winter day three and a half years ago on my maiden viewing of "Arthur Walks." But Arthur had more than excess weight plaguing him. He was a disabled American veteran who walked with canes. For 15 years they were his constant companion. But somehow, through this magical, mystical system known as DDPYOGA, Arthur was out of the canes and sprinting at the end of the video. That testimony, more than anything else showed me what was possible. I realized this was no ordinary 'before and after' smoke and mirrors gimmick. Arthur made it clear throughout the video that he got what he got because of the time and energy he put into the workouts. There was no manipulation, no hollow or outlandish promises, and no suspicious time lapses. Arthur put it out there plain, for all the world to see. That's Arthur: no fluff, no gimmicks. He gets to the point, tells it like it is and above all, gets the job done.</div>
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You may have heard that Arthur Boorman has exploded into nationally-known status thanks to his video going viral and a subsequent appearance on Good Morning America last week. So, whether you've known about King Arthur for years or have just discovered his inspirational story, tonight's your chance to hear him live and even ask him a question (if you get in line quickly enough). He's the special guest on <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1337190563_1" style="line-height: 1.2em; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;"><a href="http://www.blogtalkradio.com/ddpradio/2012/05/17/ddp-radio-featuring-ddp-arthur" rel="nofollow" style="color: #003399; line-height: 1.2em; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">DDP RADIO</a></span></span> at 9 p.m. EST tonight. DDP, Robert, Sparky, and I will take your calls and chatroom questions and hear from Arthur himself what keeps him motivated and in warrior-form after five years of the DDPYOGA lifestyle. </div>
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We've got a great show lined up this week but, as always, the shows are only as good as YOUR participation, so get in line early with a question or a comment, either via the chatroom or by phoning in to be a part of the show. Give us a call @ <a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=5802202482951539314" rel="nofollow" shape="rect" style="color: #003399; line-height: 1.2em; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; text-decoration: none;">347-994-1216</a>, and tell us how you are doing, or give a shout out to that <a href="http://teamddpyoga.com/?xg_source=msg_mes_network" rel="nofollow" style="color: #003399; line-height: 1.2em; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank"><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1337190563_3" style="line-height: 1.2em; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;">Team DDP YOGA</span></a> member who has inspired you.</div>
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Don't forget that if you miss the show live, you can always get every show that's ever been done, on demand, from the DDP Radio archives on <a href="http://ddpradio.com/" rel="nofollow" style="color: #003399; line-height: 1.2em; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank"><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1337190563_4" style="line-height: 1.2em; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;">BlogTalkRadio</span></a>.</div>
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</div>Stacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-37673760093499855932012-05-08T14:00:00.003-07:002012-06-05T14:26:25.575-07:00Feeling...Means Keeping It Off<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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How am I keeping 185 unwanted pounds off of me? Hint: Clean Eating and DDPYOGA are key, but they're only two-thirds of the equation. Here's the truth the corrupt and clueless diet industry doesn't want you to know. The last thing they want is for a food addict to make a full recovery.Stacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-86923108111245965312012-04-11T22:11:00.005-07:002012-06-05T14:26:25.579-07:00If You Bake It, They Will Hum...<div style="color: #363942; font: 12.0px Arial; margin: 5.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px;">I don't mean to imply that food is a panacea for all the world's (or even my) problems, but sometimes there's just no escaping a simple truth: A piece of homemade chocolate cake tends to imbue life with an undeniable zip. Even better: pulling off a creation that's dense and decadent and not being all that talented a baker to begin with. What I mean is, I made this lovely work of art from a mix. </div><div style="color: #363942; font: 12.0px Arial; margin: 5.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px;"><br />
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</div><div style="color: #363942; font: 12.0px Arial; margin: 5.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px;">For a while now, I've heard the growing buzz from the g-free community about Namaste products. My mentor and friend, Diamond Dallas Page (www.dddpyoga.com) swears by them. He's been eating gluten and cow-dairy free for years and got me to convert three years ago. Our reasons for doing it may be different: his body was battered by a decade long career as a professional wrestler; mine was battered by several decades of the American way of eating. By eating clean he gets to walk across the room pain-free without hobbling and I get to walk across the room minus the burden of 185 unwanted pounds. Dallas has one unbendable rule though, about g-free eating: it must taste good or he won't eat it. Naturally he values his health, but he also knows the value of pleasure, and blandness, no matter how healthy, usually doesn't spell out a lifelong habit. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Arial; margin: 5.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px;"><span style="color: #363942;">In spite of Dallas's endorsement, I admit to being initially skeptical about Namaste. Their baking mixes and pastas aren't just gluten-free, they address a multitude of allergies. In other words, the products are made in a dedicated facility </span>which eliminates any chance of cross contamination, and are free of wheat, gluten, corn, soy, potato, dairy, casein, tree nuts, and peanuts. How in God's name, I wondered, would cookies or cake taste good under such circumstances? Curiosity ultimately won in the end and this week, as I realized it had been several long months since a piece of chocolate cake had passed my lips, I set about putting their mix to the test. It turned out to be astonishingly easy since all that was required was the addition of water, eggs, and oil. The frosting was equally breezy: a few tablespoons of margerine and warm water was all it took. An hour later (30 to bake, 30 to cool), I presented my significant other and his teenaged son with a glistening, two-layer chocolate wonder. Neither eats gluten-free, both said it was better than any cake mix they'd ever tried. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Arial; margin: 5.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px;">The reason for this can be traced back to Daphne Taylor, who founded the business more than a decade ago when she decided to give a young family friend saddled with food allergies the treat of a lifetime: a batch of brownies he could actually eat. That maiden tray of brownies born out of pure concern ultimately gave way to a homespun but burgeoning business that cranks out bags of mixes like chocolate and vanilla cake, pizza crust, cookie mix, all-purpose baking mix, muffin mix, pancake and waffle mix, bread mix, and flavored pastas. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Arial; margin: 5.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px;"> I swooned at the denseness of the chocolate cake and the glossy decadence of the chocolate fudge frosting. The cake was sweet. It was moist. It was ultra-chocolatey. And it didn't take a wrecking ball to my health. I pretty much eat according to my body's wisdom (and that includes honoring the cravings) but yes, Virginia, quantity DOES matter. So I had a nice, generous piece, but not a quarter of the cake as I would have easily done back in the day. But the good news is, I can have my cake and eat it too, in more ways than one. And birthday celebrations just got a whole lot more intriguing.<br />
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www.namastefoods.com </div>Stacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-46226796538673804912012-03-16T13:10:00.001-07:002012-06-05T14:26:25.577-07:00Sweet Comfort: Cherry-Coconut CobblerSince March is entering like a bit of a lamb in my region, I decided to transmute the lemons of a cold, rainy day into a healing tonic of a concoction. In today's case it was a piping hot tray of gluten-free cherry cobbler. Yes Virginia, sometimes I just want a little steamy, creamy comfort food and regular readers know my policy: when I really want it and I'm not using the food as an escape hatch to elude reality, I indulge, enjoy, and move on. And the best part is when I keep it gluten and dairy-free, I indulge without taking a wrecking ball to my health and balance.<br />
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Since the day was damp and cold, what called to me was something cheery and bright...and somehow I knew cornmeal would be involved (I keep an inexhaustible supply in the cupboards). This recipe was inspired by a cobbler I saw in <i>Bon Appetit</i> that called for a mix of cherries and cranberries and was topped with a cornbread crust. Unable to lay my hands on the issue, I winged it, which is the eternal beauty of cooking comfort foods at home. Unless you're dealing with fried chicken (where proper oil temperature is crucial for palatable results), comfort food prep is pretty screw-up-proof.<br />
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This recipe also proves out the benefits of having a well-stocked cupboard because I was able to indulge the sudden urge to add dried coconut to the equation. Also on hand was a 22 ounce jar of Clearbrook Farms Cherry Fruit Tart, basically a ready-to-go cherry filling for tarts and pies. You could use canned pie filling or frozen berries at room temperature with a bit of sugar added. The 22 ounces of cherries didn't go as far as I thought it would and since corn bread can easily turn Sahara-dry in the oven, I thought fast and mixed the cherries with half a cup of grapefruit juice and a tablespoon of lemon juice. The extra liquid was just what the cornmeal needed to make a plush, juicy-on-the-bottom of the crust topping. When I gave the bubbling results to a somewhat picky eater of a teen, the consensus was two thumbs up. <br />
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This cobbler's great on its own, but today, I served it with a dollop of So Delicious Vanilla Ice Cream, making it officially dairy-free. A clean comfort food recipe if there ever was one - Bon Appetit!<br />
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<br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Cherry-Coconut Cobbler</span></b><br />
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Filling<br />
1 22-ounce jar or can of cherry pie filling or the frozen berry equivalent<br />
1/2 cup grapefruit juice<br />
1 tablespoon lemon juice<br />
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Crust<br />
2 1/2 cups water<br />
1 cup cornmeal<br />
2 teaspoons olive oil<br />
1 teaspoon salt<br />
1/4 cup sugar<br />
2 teaspoons vanilla<br />
1/2 cup coconut powder or unsweetened shredded coconut<br />
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Preheat oven to 330<br />
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Spray an 8 x 10 baking pan with cooking spray and set aside<br />
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Bring water to a boil and add cornmeal, salt, sugar, vanilla, and oil and whisk vigorously. Reduce heat to low and continue whisking until mixture is thick. Turn heat off and whisk in coconut. The cornmeal should be porridge consistency but not runny. If too thick, add a bit of hot water.<br />
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Pour fruit into baking pan. Drizzle the two juices over the fruit and mix slightly so it's evenly distributed. With a rubber spatula, drop cornmeal bit by bit on top of the fruit and spread slightly so it's an even crust. Bake for 35 minutes. Serve hot.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><b>Emotional Eating Disclaimer:</b></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>With something this delicious, the fact that it's a 'clean' gluten and dairy-free recipe could delude the eater into believing eating half or perhaps the entire tray may not be such a bad idea (trust me, I've been there). So I corral my portions into small dishes like this pyrex glass dish (about 3/4 cup). So HANDY!</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Stacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-69726025976693707672012-02-21T20:09:00.000-08:002012-02-21T20:09:13.316-08:00Decadent Liver PateSo here it is...my favorite way to get more iron in my diet. Believe it or not chicken liver is one of my favorite things in the world but nowhere is it more enjoyable than in pate form. Pate, I've discovered, is a lot like meatloaf or chicken soup. It's one of those home-cooked classics that comes out a little different each time, depending on which spices are prevalent in the cupboard and what wine or sherry is on hand.<br />
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This pate was made with Madeira wine but it's also great with sherry, cognac, and red wine. I've also made it with butter but today's batch was sauteed with grapeseed oil, my frying oil of choice for its healthiness (throw your canola oil OUT, ok?) and high smoking point. Crowned with a glorious slathering of caramelized onions and served with a relish tray of baby sweet gherkins, grainy mustard, capers, fresh chopped red onions, and caramelized onions. To continue properly in the Jewish tradition, the pate would be spread on toasted rye bread slices or matzoh crackers, but for tonight's dinner, I went with rice cakes. And they actually handled all that decadent action pretty well. Liver pate is one of those loaded foods that'll hold you over for hours. Sometimes I have it in the morning instead of eggs, for lunch instead of chicken, or right after a hard DDPYOGA workout when I'm ravenous. Making your own is also inexpensive compared to the prepared varieties and its loaded with protein and iron.<br />
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Decadent Liver Pate<br />
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1 16-ounce tub of chicken livers<br />
2 large onions, sliced or diced<br />
6-10 cloves garlic, smashed<br />
1/2 cup butter or oil<br />
1/2 cup wine or sherry<br />
1 tsp. celery or regular salt<br />
2 tsp. Old Bay Seasoning<br />
1 sprig fresh rosemary<br />
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Saute the onions and garlic in the oil or butter until slightly caramelized. Add the liver and mix thoroughly as it's sauteed over medium heat. After two minutes, add wine, salt, seasoning, and rosemary. Sautee for 15 minutes uncovered. Let cool until lukewarm or room temperature and process in a food processor until smooth. Transfer to an airtight container and refrigerate several hours or overnight before serving. Keeps refrigerated for about a week.<br />
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Bon Appetit!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s0MC5o4CSII/T0RqXuffxQI/AAAAAAAAA8Y/FZoW2cs8rAw/s1600/Liver.1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s0MC5o4CSII/T0RqXuffxQI/AAAAAAAAA8Y/FZoW2cs8rAw/s320/Liver.1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Stacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-79552727298039513082012-02-18T08:56:00.000-08:002012-02-19T11:29:53.721-08:00Flavor Vs. Freedom: What's It Worth?<div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There I was at the dinner table, ladeling Turkey Tetrazzini into white ceramic bowls - mine and theirs. I don't inflict my clean-eating ways on others, unless, of course, they choose to go willingly. And so, for this particular dinner, I made two versions of one of the most creamy and classic ways to enjoy leftover turkey. Theirs ('they' being my significant other and his teen-aged son): chopped turkey breast, minced pimentos, spices, and copious amounts of sour cream. The only difference in my version of the Tetrazzini was the sour cream was replaced by goat yogurt. </span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 17.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Both versions were tossed with al dente gluten-free rigatoni. That's because Significant Other & Son <i>like</i> g-free pasta, so we all cook with it. What they don't dig, however, is the pungent taste and comparatively runny texture of goat yogurt vs. sour cream. </span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 17.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As they both raved about the Tetrazzini and how flavorful and creamy it was, they asked me point blank if I really like the taste of goat yogurt and the honest answer is....Yes. But truthfully, I like sour cream better. There's nothing like the richness of it and I've yet to find an equal in the world of goat, sheep, or soy alternatives. </span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 17.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And that's just the way it is. It's the trade I've chosen to make when three years ago, I traded in 185 pounds of unwanted fat and trapped fluid. The price wasn't as high as you might imagine. There was no dieting, surgery, or drugs involved. But some fine-tuning of the food I consumed was in order, and I decided the best way to make the trade is by doing it honestly and not kidding myself. </span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 17.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We all know there's no shortage of weight loss philosophies and gurus out there who build their premise on deceit. The smoke-and-mirrors-trickery of "this bone-dry, oven-baked 'fried chicken' tastes just as good as the real thing." Or 'Try this alfredo sauce made with fat-free half and half...you'll never know the difference."</span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 17.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Uh, yeah I <i>will</i>. I've tried all the tricks. All the ways to keep some of my favorite binge foods in the equation while erasing the calories and ensuing physical damage. Doesn't work. Not by a long shot. </span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 17.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Three years ago, I stepped on the scale at my doctor's office and stood there in silent horror as the digits scrolled to 345. The time had finally come to reverse the tide. I was 44 and battered by a lifetime of yo-yo dieting, so let's just say I'd become an expert at what didn't work.</span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 17.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Dieting and severe deprivation were out of the question. So where was I go to? The middle road. At long last, after a lifetime of swinging like a deranged Tarazn between the extremes of gluttony and starvation, I realized that freedom and long-term success would involve the two extremes integrating into a way of life that spelled the end of drastic and unrealistic measures. </span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 17.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Pleasure was an immutable part of the equation. But the destruction had to go...and it couldn't be ejected forcibly. I'd tried and tried so many times to eliminate binge-eating by sheer will, by becoming a harsh drill sergeant and screaming 'STOP!' as if such a simple command could bring an addiction to its knees. Each attempt only got me further in the hole. Here's the other awakening I had three years ago: the binge-eating would only be eliminated when I faced the reasons I was knocking myself semi-unconscious with food in the first place. Admittedly easier said than done, but worth walking through the fire for. </span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 17.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So here's a rough outline of my relationship with food now. It stems from honoring my particular likes and dislikes. I'm realistic enough now to accept that I won't eat a food I'm not into, no matter how healthy Dr. Oz says it is. But it can't all be a pleasure ride or else how could I drop 185 pounds without dieting? I'm mindful that my body requires certain amounts of protein, fat, vegetables, and carbohydrates to function properly. So now I listen hard to my body...and NOT a magazine or diet that tells me what and how much to eat. I also want those combinations to be as interesting and enticing as possible. Sometimes on days I workout hard, I'll augment the protein intake with an egg-white protein drink (I actually love them now, especially when super-charged with a heaping spoonful of cocoa powder). And then there are the days when a Turkey Tetrazzini casserole, buttered gluten-free bagel, or a slice of flourless chocolate cake are the only things that'll fill the bill. </span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 17.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Thanks to the advice of the mentors who led me out of the woods, Diamond Dallas Page ( WWW.DDPYOGA.COM ) and Terri Lange, I was handed priceless advice on a silver platter: eliminate gluten and cow-dairy from my repertoire and watch what happens. I have tremendous respect for them both so I listened, even though I doubted I could live without cheese longterm. Guess what? After the initial month-long period of withdrawal, I felt better than I ever thought possible, so I kept running with it. And began to enjoy the undiscovered world of goat gouda, truffle-infused chevre, and peccorinio. </span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 17.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 17.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sometimes, goat and sheep cheese is comparable or actually better than its cow counterparts and other times, as with sour cream, the substitute doesn't quite float my boat. When I began eating clean, I wanted to go about it honestly so I did the requesite mourning for the fat-injected flavor of cream cheese, the cottony texture of wonder bread squeezing a tuna sandwich together, but in a post 9-11 world, how can I really view such a loss as tragic? Even more so when I saw the amazing return on my investment: down 12 sizes, feelin' groovy, and able to do things I've never done before...like:</span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 17.0px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>* Spring myself from a chaise lounge without back-up</b></span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>* Shop for clothing anywhere but Lane Bryant</b></span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>* Cross my legs</b></span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>* Gracefully eject myself from '68 Corvette Coupe</b></span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>* Navigate a crowded restaurant without knocking chairs over, Godzilla-style, with my hips</b></span><br />
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</span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 17.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The short-list of freedoms may sound like small potatoes, but to anyone who's been in bondage for any reason or length of time, I don't have to spell out how valuable it is. There's nothing like it. The physical freedom is probably the most obvious to those who have known me for years. I love looking and feeling free. But what I love hearing most is when someone says to me my eyes have life in them again.</span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Courier; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 17.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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</div>Stacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-55072283171887791042012-01-06T21:19:00.000-08:002012-01-06T21:31:11.022-08:00Lentil & Rice Soup: Warm Up and Fill UpOne of the longstanding traditions in our family was pork and sauerkraut on New Year's Day. I'm not sure what the ritual was supposed to usher in, but in our house it was an unshakable cooking odor that seemed to seep into the molecular level of the carpeting and drapes and hover like a semi-hostile ghost for weeks. <br />
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Nowadays, my New Year's Day Tradition is a little cleaner...in more ways than one. I still have days when I'm nothing but carnivorous, but the frequency is less. I've discovered it's just a natural change that occured during the past three years as I've dropped 185 through clean eating (specifically no gluten or cow-dairy) and being physcially engaged (DDPYOGA, long distance walking, weight-lifting). Oh yeah, and feeling with awareness. What, did you think it was all about calories and exercise? No one gets to where I was on the scale without doing some serious sprinting away from feelings, and if you're looking for similar freedom from bondage, you'd better learn to make friends with feeling what you're avoiding most, or it's gong to be a long and bumpy ride through the valley of dieting snakeoil salesmen.<br />
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But back to the subject. I've still gotta eat. Heck, I still love it; I mean REALLY love it and always will, only now, I zero in on food that enhances everything: my mood, the way my vital organs function, and my metabolism. Firm rule of thumb: it's got to taste good or why bother. I spent too many years in purgatory pretending bone-dry 'oven fried' chicken was just as good as the real thing. No more of that. When I want fried chicken, I go to Hattie's. And when it's a cold, gloomy January day, I often want some version of lentil soup. There are endless varieties of them and not just because of the dozens of varieties of lentils out there. They adapt beautifully to any spice palate. Lentils are also astoundingly inexpensive, and loaded with nutrition. And when blended with a simple carb like rice or potatoes, equate to a complete protein...no meat or cheese necessary to round out the meal. <br />
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Here's a version I did on New Year's Day. To be honest, when I do soup, I just rummage through the spice cabinet and shake whatever strikes my fancy that day into the pot. For this batch it was something like paprika, onion salt, rosemary, and cayenne pepper. Soups are very forgiving and hard to screw up completely. If you're a novice, don't be afraid to play with flavors. You'll probably end up savoring the results.<br />
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<strong>New Year's Day Lentil Soup</strong><br />
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1 bag lentils (for this I used split orange lentils)*<br />
2 large to medium onions, sliced or diced**<br />
1 head garlic, cloves smashed<br />
Olive or grapeseed oil for sauteeing the vegetables<br />
Two tablespoons of seasoning: whatever's in the cupboard. Paprika, garlic or onion powder, thyme, sage, rosemary. Whatever blend you choose should total about two tablespoons.<br />
1/4 cup powdered chicken stock or 4 boullion cubes<br />
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<em>Note:</em><br />
<em>* If using whole lentils, like pinto beans or black-eyed peas, you'll need to soak them in water overnight</em><br />
<em>**You can add chopped carrots, celery, leeks to the onions and garlic. No rules with this soup!</em><br />
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Pour split lentils into a large stock pot and add about a quart of purified drinking water. Let soak for two hours. Water will absorb into the lentils. After two hours of soaking, place lentils over medium heat and add more water until they're submerged by about 3 inches.<br />
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In a large frying pan, add chopped vegetables and enough oil to coat them well. Sautee over medium heat until at least soft and translucent. It's OK if some of them brown, it enhances the soup's flavor. Setcooked vegetables aside as lentils continue to cook. After about an hour, do a texture check to see if lentil are soft enough to eat. They should somewhere in between hard pellets and mush. A bit al dente, but with some give. Once they're cooked to desired texture, add the boullion, spices, and vegetables and simmer on low heat for aboutr 15 minutes.<br />
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As we all know, soup's better the next day, but you may want to dig into this immediately. I served this version with a sticky-wild rice blend, but you can go with potatoes or gluten-free pasta. A little Peccorino cheese (a sheep's milk cheese that's similar to Parmasean) sprinkled over each bowl makes it extra Divine.<br />
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Bon Appetit!<br />
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</div>Stacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-20694444407767228302011-12-27T21:46:00.000-08:002011-12-27T22:31:07.733-08:00December Reflections Or: Yes, This Really IS My LifeIt’s the tail end of the year. The final grains of sand from December’s hourglass are cascading out of sight. This is when I tend to reflect. On how profoundly different my life is now than it was in December 2008.<br />
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Three years ago I was extinguishing my life force and any traces of vitality with lumberjack-sized portions of food. My body was in a state of functioning exhaustion for two reasons: it was continually digesting food, and the foods I sent down the hatch were off the charts in their caloric upper-cut of a punch. At the top of the list were copious amounts of potato chips. And not just any old, off-the-shelf variety. These little lethal weapons were cooked in lard and available only in a certain county of southern Pennsylvania. That meant I had to mail order them from the factory if I wanted my fix. The UPS delivery men and women became very familiar with me thanks to the frequency with which they hauled the cumbersome cardboard packages up the stairs to my second floor apartment. The deliveries were the shape and size of a mini cardboard coffin (interesting, huh?) and plastered with shiny red and white stickers that read ‘FRAGILE.’ Curious how those stickers accurately described the contents of the box as well as my then-state-of-mind. It didn’t take much to send me careening into the kitchen to blot out whatever it was I wanted to blot out. Sometimes, there was nothing really to run from. Eating in such a blind and destructive way had simply become a habit, and as I deliberately looked the other way, my weight crept to an all time high of 345 pounds. <br />
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Life at such a size had become profoundly difficult at worst, uncomfortable at best. There were obvious physical tasks that were demanding like climbing a single flight of stairs, getting up from the couch, and trying to negotiate a crowded restaurant without knocking over a few tables or chairs with my hips. Even sleeping, the thing that should have been a breeze, was frought with awkwardness. And then there was the wardrobe: black lycra or black lycra. It was my only choice and I wore it daily, even in crippling heatwaves (here’s something that may shock you: a 300 pound woman swathed in black is generally not good company when the mercury spikes above 65 degrees).<br />
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As unhappy as I was, I made peace with my life situation. Food was too insidious an addiction to come to grips with, and finally, after years of believing society’s bigotry, the revelation came down from above that my worth as a human being had zippo to do with what the scale said. So there I was at the end of 2008, in total acceptance of the fact that I’d live the rest of my life with an unshakable addiction and an irrevocable relationship with Lane Bryant. <br />
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Mystics and sages have said that it’s the moment we finally surrender that Life or Serendipity or The Great Mystery can finally step in and start to amend a seemingly hopeless situation. 2009 had barely begun when I realized the mystics and sages were correct. Two guiding lights, Diamond Dallas Page (<a href="http://www.ddpyoga.com/">http://www.ddpyoga.com/</a> ) and Terri Lange, materialized in my life to show me a way out of the woods. I was ready to listen to their advice, follow it, and mix it with my body’s innate wisdom to create a way of living that both strengthened and lightened me, on more than just a physical level. <br />
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Yes, the addiction was shakable afterall, but only after I came to terms with two things: <strong>1)</strong> I wouldn’t delude myself that being at a lower weight would be a golden ticket to happiness, and <strong>2)</strong> I would agree once and for all to face the demons that continually sent me careening into the kitchen. <br />
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It took years and I was determined not to rush the process. I wanted a house of bricks. And three years later, I have one. Becoming who I am today was and is an ongoing process that required getting to know and like foods that enhanced my energy level and health, paying attention to or more accurately, FEELING the emotions that are part of the human package, and being physically active on a regular basis. This may not sound like your idea of a good time but I swear, for the most part it’s all been pretty enjoyable…even the challenging days. As Terri Lange told me, marching IN the parade vs. being on the sidelines means taking the good with the bad. Sometimes it feels gloriously exhilarating to be in the middle of it. Other times I get rained on or limp along because of blisters. And just when I think I’ve signed up for a little more of life than I bargained for, I remind myself not only that blisters heal, but I’M IN THE FREAKIN’ PARADE.<br />
Last week I opened my front door to find a cardboard box delivered by UPS waiting for me, adorned with 'FRAGILE' stickers. I felt a momentary and disturbing flashback to the days of hovering half-awake in a potato chip coma, then remembered that it was an order for Lucini organic extra virgin olive oils and balsamic vinegars. It would be accurate to say that three years later, I exercise a little more discretion when it comes to sending food down the hatch now. <a href="http://shop.lucini.com/Extra-Virgin-Olive-Oil/c/Lucini@OliveOil">http://shop.lucini.com/Extra-Virgin-Olive-Oil/c/Lucini@OliveOil</a> I tore the box open with delight, admired the gorgeous deep green of the oil, then made a goat cheese omelet with Lucini's lemon-infused olive oil.<br />
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So with only a few grains of sand remaining, I’ll close out December 2011 with a major expression of Gratitude to Dallas Page, Terri Lange, and so many amazing members of Team DDPYOGA (Jamie, Richard, Rez, Jay, Sparky, Doug, HD, Robert) who give of themselves and uplift others on their journey back to a fuller life. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8BMUZjPWJQM/TvqtBSZQqKI/AAAAAAAAA7k/tcBgKwFmstM/s1600/PS.Farewell.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" rea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8BMUZjPWJQM/TvqtBSZQqKI/AAAAAAAAA7k/tcBgKwFmstM/s320/PS.Farewell.04.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><em> Black Lycra: My Uniform Du Jour for 20 Years</em><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gYFlZ1aAt34/TvqudtFjE4I/AAAAAAAAA7w/ELh0bYcUhqM/s1600/Italy+Bound+11.11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" rea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gYFlZ1aAt34/TvqudtFjE4I/AAAAAAAAA7w/ELh0bYcUhqM/s320/Italy+Bound+11.11.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<em> I still wear black...but now it's a choice, not a mandate</em><br />
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<object style="height: 390px; width: 640px;"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/zXZj4O5T25I?version=3&feature=player_detailpage"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/zXZj4O5T25I?version=3&feature=player_detailpage" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="640" height="360"></object>Stacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-71265326233051819782011-12-14T12:20:00.000-08:002011-12-14T20:59:25.666-08:00Masala Farm: An Inspired Life<strong>A book-signing for Suvir Saran’s “Masala Farm: Stories and Recipes from an Uncommon Life in the Country” will take place from 4 to 8 p.m. Friday, Dec. 16, at Gardenworks, 1055 Route 30, in Salem, N.Y. For more information, call (518) 854-3250. For more information on Suvir Saran, visit www.suvir.com .</strong><br />
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I always tell people there’s no one answer to how I got rid of 185 pounds (and the emotional baggage that’s a package deal). Pardon the pun, but it’s simply too big an issue to point neatly in a singular direction of a pat answer. The ‘How Did You Do It’ queries come both in-person and via e-mail. Usually I can tell when someone really wants to hear what I have to say or if they’re hoping to be sent packing with a quickie prescription of diminished calories and a drill sergeant’s rotation of sit-ups and squats. <br />
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I can only give them the truth: The solution is a glittering mosaic. From a distance it may look like a single object, but step towards the canvas for a closer look and you’ll see a composition of little pieces made of different colors, shapes, and textures. All are intrinsic in their importance because when a piece of the mosaic is missing, it’s not the same picture.<br />
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Yes, I exercise on a regular basis. Yes, I eat considerably less than I did three years ago. But there’s so much more to the living-in-balance equation. Somewhere along the journey, I knew it would be crucial to make peace with food. With my intense love of it, my well-documented misuse of it, and my sometimes unmitigated fear of it. I’d been heading in the direction of a more harmonious relationship with food for years. And then one day, out of the blue, came an invitation of sorts, to hop on board the peace train. It was May of 2008 when I visited Suvir Saran and Charlie Burd at their gorgeous farm, tucked into the far reaches of Washington County, N.Y., not far from the Vermont border.<br />
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I was there to interview Suvir for a newspaper feature on his career as a celebrity chef, cookbook author, lecturer, and owner of the Michelin-awarded Devi restaurant in Manhattan. Despite the sundrenched spring weather, I was attired in my uniform du jour: black spandex leggings and a billowy black top. Even the shoes and sunglasses were of the noir persuasion. Truly, I was shrouded in every sense of the word. But at a size 26, I had very few wardrobe options.<br />
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<em>Suvir and Charlie, May 2008...and me in the background taking notes in my usual Johnny Cash ensemble...</em><br />
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Suvir ushered me into the kitchen to a stool at the granite counter overlooking his industrial-sized Viking stove. The stove is his favorite place in the 232-year old farm house because it’s where he loves holding court, whether entertaining out of town guests for the weekend, friends from farmhouses down the road, or in this case, a journalist. I knew I was in for an interview unlike any other when Suvir opened his refrigerator and pulled out a glass bowl filled with goose eggs. <br />
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“Do you like eggs?” he asked, smiling as I stared in wonder at what looked like a pile of mini-white footballs. <br />
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“They’re my favorite food in the world,” I murmured, sensing with anticipation that he had some serious plans for the eggs. <br />
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“Good,” he said quietly, lighting the flame under a cast iron skillet and drizzling it with olive oil. <br />
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There were four people to cook for (a photographer had accompanied me) but the enormousness of each egg meant frying only one at a time, which frazzled him not a bit. I can still see Suvir at the Viking, standing protectively over the emerging masterpiece, adorning it with a bit of sea salt and fresh pepper. The culmination came with a chunk of Parmigiano Reggiano cheese pushed back and forth across a grater until the sunny-side-up egg looked like a snow-capped volcano.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FuFhNJbpAQk/TukGT3dTpGI/AAAAAAAAA64/0I8LTIszM-M/s1600/Suvir.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FuFhNJbpAQk/TukGT3dTpGI/AAAAAAAAA64/0I8LTIszM-M/s320/Suvir.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><em> Suvir and "The Girls"</em> <br />
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As Suvir went on to prepare the next goose egg, Charlie brewed foamy cups of espresso and stirred a pot of Sambhaar (a spicy vegetable and lentil stew) simmering on an adjacent burner while both talked about their most recent visit to Southeast Asia.<br />
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<em> Suvir Saran's Sambhaar, a delightfully spicy vegetable-lentil stew from his "American Masala" cookbook</em><br />
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Then Suvir handed me a copy of his first cookbook, “Indian Home Cooking,” to look over and I found myself staring at a page near the beginning where he states the following philosophy: <em>“When a guest comes into your house, God comes with him…we treat all our guests as if they were God because we believe God is in all of us.”</em><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Suvir didn’t just stop with perfectly prepared goose eggs that day (with the warm liquid yolks oozing over the toasted bread like glorified, pearlescent lava). He pulled glass storage bowls from the refrigerator to reveal a tomato chutney salsa and a pale green coconut-mint chutney. Then he fired up an iron wok and began ladling a batter made of rice and chick pea flour to make Dosas, a savory pancake used for dipping. (Everything Suvir cooked that day, except the goose eggs, were from recipes in his excellent “American Masala” cookbook).</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ChcrddnYRb4/TukIXfSmyoI/AAAAAAAAA7Q/LmsFPwMpGTI/s1600/Suvir.Pancake1.2" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ChcrddnYRb4/TukIXfSmyoI/AAAAAAAAA7Q/LmsFPwMpGTI/s320/Suvir.Pancake1.2" width="320" /></a></div><em> Heaven in a griddle: Suvir Saran's chick pea-flour-based Dosas</em><br />
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“I don’t know why I’m doing this,” he said, looking momentarily up from the sizzling Dosa “I’ve never made Dosas for a journalist before.” Somewhere in his core, he must have intuited a fellow food lover under the journalistic veneer. And perhaps at an unconscious level, he sensed I was trapped in a prison of a body and was searching for answers. <br />
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As Suvir will tell anyone who asks (and as a lecturer and consultant who travels the world on speaking engagements, he’s asked quite frequently), the answer to excess weight or any other health imbalance isn’t to enlist your inner drill sergeant of restriction. Don’t we all know by now that it always backfires? Why do we keep falling for it? Why did I keep falling for it all those years? Maybe because I thought it was the only answer, the singular way out of the tunnel. <br />
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Suvir maintains, as I ultimately realized, that food is a pleasure meant to be enjoyed. The eating experience is inherently nurturing if we allow it to be. Cliché as it may sound, food is glorious. And it can be both glorious and health-enhancing. <br />
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The goose egg was divinely creamy. The symphony of spices in the apricot-colored Sambhaar richocheted from my tongue to the back of my throat as I savored each spoonful. The crisp Dosa was the perfect vehicle to enjoy the thick chutneys, and both versions were fragrant and hypnotic.<br />
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If only every meal could have such a ratio of peacefulness and pleasure.<br />
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The renowned food critic Gael Greene describes Suvir’s prowess in the kitchen as a cross between George Balanchine and Leonard Bernstein because of his instinct for finding the perfect tension between an efficient flow of food and conversation and a relaxed, enjoyable pace. She has been known to go on for pages about Suvir’s cooking: “I’ve found myself seduced by his Indian riffs on American classics; the richer-than-Bill Gates mac and cheese, his remarkable corn bread, the classic American cakes he perfected, like his dense lemon cake, and upside-down pineapple,” Greene writes in her blog, www.insatiable-critic.com .<br />
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That day, we talked at length about the importance of the farm-to-table movement, the evils of the nation’s corporate ways that fills supermarket shelves with dirt-cheap cans of processed food floating in excess food coloring and sodium. But I gathered the most information simply by observing Suvir and Charlie’s ways in the kitchen, the relaxed and modulated pace of meal preparation, and the rapt attention they gave to me as a guest in their home as we sat around our plates and talked. No trance-inducing news footage from a television or even background music from a stereo to interfere with genuinely connecting.<br />
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I listened as Suvir explained his views on home kitchens being sacred territory and the central nerve center of the home.<br />
“In the Indian home, the kitchen is where we create magical tastes that have the power to heal the mind, body, and soul. All cultures that are a happy people meet in the kitchen,” he said, scooping out a dollop of mint chutney with a Dosa. “I want to encourage people to go back to the kitchen and start nurturing. I want us to go back to a civilized culture, not one where we are isolated from one another. You are what you eat. And so my philosophy, and that of my parents and grandparents, is to cook, share, and eat with care and thought.”<br />
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Suvir had no way of knowing this at the time (though my 300-pound-plus frame may have given him an inkling),but my kitchen was quite the opposite environment. Over the years its main function had eroded into a pit stop to refuel for more potato chip and clam dip binges. Like Suvir and Charlie, I actually loved giving dinner parties and occasionally threw them, but as my eating to dull emotional pain escalated, so did a healthy perspective on food choices, quantity, and an overall sense of boundaries as to a time and a place for eating. For me it was anytime, anyplace, any reason. The original reasons for starting in the first place had long blurred out of focus…such clever grease that keeps the wheels of addiction spinning in perfect rhythm. <br />
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I left American Masala Farm that day with Suvir’s first two cookbooks, a cache of goose eggs, and an amazing sense of serenity that I parlayed into a mother’s day lunch on my apartment balcony later that week. I served the courses in the most leisurly fashion ever known to friends and family. The time spent together was a lot more than just a meal, it was an event that lasted for several hours before the last bite of dessert was gone. It would be nearly 9 months (interesting gestation period, no?) before the A-Ha! Moment came while watching Oprah in a potato chip-stupor, which set in motion an avalanche of change and ensuing weight transformation. But something had shifted in me during that encounter with Suvir and Charlie on their farm. It was real and profound and like a seed, took some time to manifest its fruit. <br />
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In a culture that desperately reveres instant gratification (especially where wanting to look a certain way is concerned) it’s important that I’m clear with people up front that my path to salvation wasn’t a speedy one. I don’t know if it ever can be.<br />
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It took years to put the mosaic together and frame it. Fervent journaling, group therapy, white-knuckle dieting, a few 12-step meetings thrown in for good measure, reading untold volumes of self-help books, an ongoing love affair with spirituality, and a beautiful, savory lesson at American Masala Farm on the transformational power of food all played a part. Up until May 2008, I’d always operated under the premise that food and isolation go hand in hand. Thanks to Suvir and Charlie,I realized it’s quite the opposite.<br />
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And it gets even better: The experience I had at their farm has been distilled into Suvir’s latest book, “Masala Farm: Stories and Recipes from an Uncommon Life in the Country.” It’s a cookbook/memoir of simple, pleasure-filled living that Suvir and Charlie wrote together. It showcases dozens of their favorite recipes and recipes from their circle of friends, including Glens Falls caterer Sally Longo, who spent weeks at the farm helping with recipe prep and photo shoots. I’ve been perusing the recipes and photos and it all looks divine. As someone who eats gluten-free, I’ll be making a beeline for the Farmhouse Crispy-Creamy Potatoes, Chai Cider, Chunky Eggplant Dip, Asparagus and Green Pea Risotto, and the Almost-Flourless Caramel-Lacquered Chocolate Peanut Torte. <br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">And I’ll absolutely be marking the occasion with a dinner party. Do I have any takers?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B1LpG1pGe48/TulQ2H78e4I/AAAAAAAAA7Y/qABCDcZjzfs/s1600/IMG_5451.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B1LpG1pGe48/TulQ2H78e4I/AAAAAAAAA7Y/qABCDcZjzfs/s320/IMG_5451.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><i>A consummate giver: I'm over the moon because Suvir just gifted me with a pair of padukas from his family's home in India. I cherish them and use them everyday. </i></div>Stacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-21912823757862044262011-08-16T23:44:00.000-07:002011-08-17T11:02:43.809-07:00The Yellow Pants: How I Did It:For 20+ years I wore black, head to toe. On broiling summer days and on occasions like Easter and Valentine's Day when the rest of the world is immersed in pastels. Well, today my traditional wardrobe has turned on a dime. Often, I still wear black pants, both because black blends well with other colors and a simple force of habit. Eight months ago I bought a pair of yellow pants because they called to me. For some reason the lemon-yellow beckoned my name, even though I couldn't get them past my thighs.<br />
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I knew there'd come a day when I would indeed have them fully hoisted and the button fastened comfortably around my waist. The key: not forcing my intended result into a timetable of my making. The body, as I've been saying for so long, knows what it's doing, has its own intelligence and has things covered that I can't even begin to comprehend, like the automatic regulation of my heart rate, body temperature, blood pressure, and on and on. I realized it was futile and not very smart to try and boss it around. So I stopped. And now, when I have a goal, a particular finish line I want to cross, I set my sights on it and then step out of the way and leave the mico-managing to a higher and wiser force. <br />
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So it took eight months, big deal. They fly by when you're not obsessing and clock-watching anyway. I simply kept up the way I now live: being active through YRG, long-distance walking, and weight training; and being faithfully married to clean eating. Keeping gluten and cow dairy out of my system continues to enhance both my body and mind. I was also lucky enough to join a gym that had a trainer who was beyond helpful and enthusiastic. His guidance and formula (supersets) helped transform me and give me the extra push I needed at the tail end of my weight release when progress can sometimes slow down. Thanks to the discerning prescription dispensed by Paul Grassia, my progress actually accelerated, which accelerated me into those yellow pants. Yeah Baby! <br />
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I did the work, but no one does inner and outer transformation like this alone. So here's to my A-Team: Paul, DDP, Terri Lange, Team YRG, my Ayurvedic nutritionist Judy Joy Wyle, my spiritual avatar Sri Pranaji, Karina Allrich (the Gluten-Free Goddess), Inner Beauty Goddess Masha Penson, massage therapist and belly-dance teacher extraordinaire Mary Imbimbo Kuntz, Angel-Photographer Joan K. Lentini, role-model-for-creativity Serena Kovalosky, fellow-shadow-seeker Carrie Lee McClelland, and everyone else who have thrown me bouquets of support.<br />
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Thanks to you all, I'm Living Life. REALLY living it.<br />
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Stacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5802202482951539314.post-81210534518027613512011-07-10T20:48:00.000-07:002011-08-31T20:39:34.933-07:00It's Called The Pleasure Principle: Look Into It! Or...There's No Place Like Hattie's<div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">* All photos by Joan K. Lentini of Forward Vision Photography</span></i></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i></i></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</span> </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Anyone who's known me for two weeks or more knows the basic nuts and bolts of my bio. Details large and small like I'm:</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A writer</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Permanently fixated on the color pink</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A former 345-pound woman maintaining a 180 pound weight-loss</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A fanatic about weight-lifting (What can I say...I saw "Pumping Iron" an an influential age)</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In love with fried chicken and always will be. </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_63U-m5z_ok/ThpyUjhX66I/AAAAAAAAA6U/12uYh8nyGQI/s1600/Hattie%2527s.Mouthful.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_63U-m5z_ok/ThpyUjhX66I/AAAAAAAAA6U/12uYh8nyGQI/s320/Hattie%2527s.Mouthful.jpg" width="228" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’m also a recovering American. Lured at childhood into addictive cycles that involved fast and processed food, I've spent the majority of my life either over-indulging in food (the more caloric, the better) or trying fruitlessly to kill off once and for all, my love of it. </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Fast food was gloriously perfect for an affliction that demanded both self-loathing and isolation. Thanks to a brilliant insight from my friend Esmond Lyons, I’ve realized that fast food is the pornography of the culinary world. It’s cheap, slapped together in a hurry, and satisfies only for a few seconds. And it’s usually partaken with at least a few grams of shame. </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Immediately after earning my driver's license at age 17, I discovered the magic of drive-thrus because they upped the isolation ante. And they delivered the goods quicker: a bucket of chicken or a combination meal that centered around the largest cheeseburger on the menu shoved through my car window and I was in heaven. The second I found a free parking space I could turn the engine off and shoot up...with no one to watch me. Once I got a taste of the drive-thru lifestyle, actually entering a fast-food establishment through the front door was unthinkable. In my Heart I knew the reasons I was eating. And they had nothing to do with appreciation of the food. What I appreciated was the way it drugged me. How it hurled me instantly into the Twilight Zone of Numbness. Why would I want to do that in a crowded room full of strangers?</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I get a lot of questions now from fellow recovering Americans seeking a similar path of transformation. They want the details of food groups, quantities and, what I’ve eliminated completely. I’m open about my current ways with food, even though I know and they know that a recitation of what I eat isn’t going to truly fix what’s ailing them. It’s a potential starting point though, and what always gets included in the schpiel is this: the only thing I’ve eliminated completely is self-loathing. </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When Dallas Page (fitness guru and inventor of YRG) and Terri Lange (The Godmother of YRG) helped walk me through the early stages of withdrawals to the foods I was addicted to, I knew that in addition to taking guidance from them, I needed to tap into my own well of inner wisdom. It would be the only way to make this a long-term contract I could live with. </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The art of self-acceptance has many facets to it and one thing I realized, after years of fighting it is, there are certain things about me that just </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">are</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, like my ardor for fried chicken. As with the color of my eyes and the need to be carried out of the movie "Bambi" on a stretcher, it's not going anywhere.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RvkdYB-tSoo/Thpy9F5VN0I/AAAAAAAAA6Y/HFTQl0AnpuQ/s1600/Hattie%2527s.BlissII.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RvkdYB-tSoo/Thpy9F5VN0I/AAAAAAAAA6Y/HFTQl0AnpuQ/s320/Hattie%2527s.BlissII.jpg" width="228" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Here's the main reason I stopped fighting the reality that fried chicken is a very important part of my life: It’s pleasure. Looking back over all my past ‘failures’ where weight-release and balance were concerned, the largest mistake I made was eliminating pleasure from my life. Who can live with that? I’m just not equipped to treat food as fuel, though I’m mindful that fuel is one of food’s intrinsic qualities. As I told a Team YRG member who recently sought my advice about eating, it’s not about eliminating pleasure, but managing my addiction to it. Seeking pleasure and avoiding pain is what we’re programmed to do…the trick for me is not letting it get out of hand. Fighting the fact that I sometimes desire to eat something purely for the pleasure of it only led to unnecessary conflict, self-recrimination, and more elaborate entrapment in the cycle.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Now, when I really want fried chicken, I have it. And I listen very very closely to make sure it’s not a call to fill an emotional hole. They can only be filled with liberal amounts of inwardly directed compassion. </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Since I live near Saratoga Springs, N.Y., when I do hear the fried chicken siren going off, I have Hattie’s to fall back on. SO much better than fast food, for a number of reasons, like, visiting with owners Beth and Jasper Alexander face to face and knowing they actually care about the food they serve customers. Much of the vegetables (especially during summer) are locally sourced and many of the recipes (fried chicken, cucumber salad, pecan pie) are from Hattie Moseley Austin (the restaurant's late founder) herself. </span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">With the always-vivacious Beth Alexander, and my secret weapon: a mug of hot water...</span></i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q9A4VsgCq1g/Thpzl14-UHI/AAAAAAAAA6g/Ov7pvpooS64/s1600/Hattie%2527s.Stacey%2526Jasper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q9A4VsgCq1g/Thpzl14-UHI/AAAAAAAAA6g/Ov7pvpooS64/s320/Hattie%2527s.Stacey%2526Jasper.jpg" width="228" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">...and her genius husband, Jasper. Enjoying face-time, fried chicken, and Hattie's signature cucumber salad.</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i></div></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Hattie’s flagship restaurant in downtown Saratoga Springs has been in operation since 1938. Last year, the Alexander's opened a satellite restaurant outside of town, smack in the middle of a sea of chain restaurants and fast food joints.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Hattie's second location may be surrounded by drive-thru's, but there's only one way to get your hands on a box of their crispy, fragrant fried chicken: walk through the front door. Speeding away with the goods to eat in private isn’t on the radar anymore. And neither is the 'never again' mandate regarding foods I truly love. Think there's a connection?</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sometimes I pop into Hattie's with friends and enjoy a meal with conversation. If I'm doing errands on the fly, I go solo and have no trepidation about sitting at the counter on my own, moaning with joy as I eat (really...just ask the regulars). They key in all this, of course, is balance. I knew when I began this new way of living that I'd have to change some things, or I'd still be 345 pounds. My favorite chicken part by far: thighs. I usually have three. It's just simply what I require to make it worth my time. However, they're accompanied by a vegetable and not biscuits or fries, and I wash it all down with herbal tea or hot water (my secret weapon) and not a sweetened cold drink. It works. I leave the meal ecstatic and satisfied, and I continue to release weight. </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">If you've read this far, I hope there's no one still wondering why I don't just give the low fat oven-baked version of fried chicken a try. I've tried concocting every version of it in an effort to whittle my waistline and banish the real stuff for good. Every attempt resulted in uniform awfulness. </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And I simply don't have time for uniform awfulness in my life anymore. Not when there's so much pleasure to enjoy. </span><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">www.hattiesrestaurant.com </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">www.yrgfitness.com </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</div>Stacey Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804552024529446612noreply@blogger.com3