Last Sunday

There were two half-brown bananas sitting on my counter and I didn't feel like working. I'd just spent the day running, running errands and running after a kid, what I needed to do is clean up after it all. But I was too distracted for that. Something in my head didn't register that 3:00 on a Sunday afternoon was really close to the end of the weekend. In my mind, I had time to spare. And everyone knows the best thing to do when you have no time for anything is to bake.
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So the two half-brown bananas and the one and only recipe I remember from childhood, and have remembered through out my life, became bread.
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It's not impressive, really. It's probably the same recipe you, your family, the neighbor and her family all have used their entire lives, too. Or some slight variation thereof.
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You start with the bananas, of course.



There are also eggs, just the beginning of the arguably cardiac-damaging ingredients. But if you're me, you have a coworker that raises chickens. Chickens who live free and sing elegant melodies while they lay eggs. Or something like that. And you use these lightly speckled, sing-songy eggs for your bread.

What I love about this recipe, other than the fact that it's in my head, is that even though it's baking, it truly is mostly just baking. Combining all the ingredients takes about 10 minutes, the batter stands for about 20 minutes and then, into the pan and into the oven, to be forgotten about for a good 50- 60 minutes. (Note: I am so glad they invented oven timers in this time in history. I would have made an awful 1800's baker.)

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I love something I can dump into a loaf pan and fifty minutes later, call it bread. But on Sunday, I couldn't find my loaf pan. Really. Who loses a loaf pan? Well, me, for about five minutes. And in that five minutes, it occurred to me: bundt! I don't know if I love using it or typing it or saying it more. But bundt, of course!

So after the mixing and the pouring and the scraping and listening to the complaining because there was "barely any batter left in the bowl," into the oven it went. (And seriously, I have never gotten into the batter-licking thing, so please explain this to me. Maybe it is just the carbohydrate lover in me, but why lick raw batter when you could, theoretically, have more bread in the end?)

Ironically, it turned out there was extra batter. As a side effect of my ability to get this together in ten minutes, apparently, batter flies.

You should have seen her trying to lick it off, once she realized it was there. If getting entertainment out of those that depend on you for life and happiness isn't your idea of the best fun, well you'd better be the one in charge of keeping me from having children.

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Forty minutes* at 325 would pass, though. The bathroom and the dog would be cleaned. The oven timer would sound. And the bundt would be turned over, revealing banana bread, sans nuts. Some are allergic, you know.

My intention was to bring this to work, because it is always my intention. I need bread made with eggs, sugar and shortening lying around the house like I need the proverbial hole in the head. So I sliced it and packed it up for the office.

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Most of it. Because why else did I run ten miles that morning.

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*Time adjusted for the change in pans.

Hey, Good Lookin'

Woah, well, post about weight and some folks are just all about the emails. Even if it's your own weight, the people, they've got a lot to say.

Rest assured, I'm not starving myself.

I eat quite a bit. And often. With friends, with family, even alone. In fact, here lately, I've been cooking my little butt off. (Yes, all irony and puns intended. And then some.) I've also been inspired lately by this girl who not only has been creating some fantastic delights in her kitchen but also seems to share my affinity for recipe substitutions.

Maybe it's the simplicity of the cooking I do or the fact that I am not sure I've ever completely followed a recipe but I find it to be quite easy and generally find myself a lot more satisfied eating what I've cooked at home rather than something that was prepared in bulk in some kitchen. There are always exceptions, but it's also, generally, those places that one shouldn't go to while wearing the same clothes in which they just ran five miles. And my kitchen? We don't mind a little post-run stank around here.

Not totally following recipes, though, does give one an enormous amount of creative license. While I don't despise onions, I'm not entirely fond of them, either. So the other night, while making stir fry based on this recipe I decided onions? Yeah, not so much. Squash? Oh yeah, baby.

And you know, it fit in just fine with the broccoli and asparagus. I did add it toward the end of cooking, though, which turned out to be a great decision. Ironically, squash is not at it's best when it's, well, squashy.

Stir fry, as many probably know, is the perfect runner's meal. It's all the things you need in a meal and it all ends up in one bowl. And to those of you making your stir fry from frozen vegetables let me just say while I completely understand the time and convenience factors, try fresh anyway. You will be so impressed with yourself.

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Oh yeah, and there's chicken in there, too. But I've got to say, for some reason I can't really put my finger on, taking pictures of meat that you're cooking or eating or anything else just seems weird. Maybe this is because I am not really a fan of preparing meat but I am a fan of eating it so I just get over the preparation and cooking portion. Does anyone else feel this way?

Another too-simple-for-words cooking adventure of late was influenced by my latest trip to the Caribbean. Where they have fish. Where I had fish. Where I had mahi, iron content be damned, every chance I could.

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I found this recipe and got all excited because the salsa portion of the recipe totally reminded me of an absolutely fabulous mahi sandwich I had while sitting in a seaside restaurant over-looking the bay on the last full day of my visit. It was while enjoying that mahi that I listened to sailor jokes and became friends with a young boy that told me not only was he going to become a famous drummer one day but if I came to see him play, HE WOULD LET ME IN FOR FREE. I always knew my involuntary adoration of musicians was meant to be.

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What was not meant to be was the mahi. Trying to find good mahi in Colorado is like trying to find Rocky Mountain Oysters in the islands. I settled for tilapia. It was a very acceptable compromise.

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The recipe, though, and it's fabulous salsa, called for onions. And I had every intention of using the red onion I just knew I'd bought. But when I opened the fridge, alas, there was no red onion. I was so sure I'd bought it. Who knew my onion aversion was so deep.

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Instead, I decided a jalapeno and some roasted red peppers would have to do. And once again, they did.

I also added green peppers and later, the avocado. If nothing else, it was pretty.

And here again, I have no photo of the fish. I have a feeling, however, that it's less because of the I'm-creeped-out-by-photos-of-meat issue and more the once-food-is-in-front-of-me-I-must-eat-it issue.

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The fish did need something other than salsa with it, though. I went with my all-time favorite side, sweet potato fries.

I have no idea if this is an "appropriate" culinary pairing but in my world, you can never go wrong with these. Never. Slice them, toss them in olive oil, sprinkle them with pepper or your favorite spice and sea salt, pop 'em in a 350 oven for 30-35 and that's it. They are always good and always remind me how much I love sea salt. Why the entire world isn't cooking with sea salt and no other sort of salt is beyond me.
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No worries, internets, I do not starve myself to lose weight. In fact, when you're cooking like this, you're even more inspired to eat. You find yourself saying "oh, you know what would be good with this" or "next time, I'm going to add..." and before you know it, you have twenty more meals planned. For that evening.

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Instead of asking yourself what's for dinner tonight, you just day dream about ingredients and spend your days searching for all the possible recipes that call for lime.

Toast will only make it better for a while

Last night was intended to be the night where I'd arrive home from a productive day at work, get laundry finished, catch up on some emails, eat a quick dinner and turn in early. It was appropriate for a rest day after a long run, I thought. Instead, what last night turned into was a night where the laundry got moved from the washer to the dryer and not much further, I ate a dinner that I heated in the microwave, went to bed at 6:00 p.m. and then woke up two hours later and proceeded to eat the entire contents of my house.

Seriously, and while I know this is about as boring as blog fodder can get, I ate a LOT. I was in the mood for something comforting and with nothing to blame but who I am and the occasional unpredictability of my mood, I made toast. Lots and lots of toast. It's one of my favorite foods (I was not kidding about that bread thing) and even more, warm toast straight out of the toaster makes me feel like I'm under a warm blanket on a cool but not-too-cold evening. And when I thought I'd had enough toast, I had a glass of milk. And then another piece of toast.

While most people would consider a carb over load combined with a "splurge" to be more along the lines of cookies or cake (both of which I also enjoy) I stuck with my toast. Of course, it helps to have a place to lay the blame so I'm going to attribute it to the increase in running mileage over the last few days. I ran more in the last four days than I'd run in the previous fourteen. The math is easy: I hadn't eaten enough (which is a shock within itself) and I was using last night to make up for it. Running can really do strange things to your body's pattern. But finally, after the toaster popped up and down several times, I felt full.

Then, as if I wanted my own version of a horror movie, before I headed back to bed, I stepped on the bathroom scale. Yes, because I wanted to see what half a loaf of whole wheat bread weighed. Duh, right? Did I mention in three weeks I'm headed to a beach on the East coast in which a beach house is being rented where things like "hot tubbing" are done? Oh, I didn't mention that? Well, silly me.

But balance, right? Balance. Which is entirely how the next few weeks and my approach to getting back to a regular running routine ought to be summed up. I've forgotten how important that aspect is to a healthy training schedule. Which probably explains why I wanted to fill the feeling of recovering from ten miles on Sunday with multiple slices of whole grain tastiness. Or not, I'm not sure.

But it's something to reach for. It's a plan and if there's anything I love, it's that. A goal, something to remember. Something to remind me. Don't have too much, don't have to little. Work hard, rest hard. Balance.

When everything starts reminding you of Summer

Yeah, it's no secret, I'm ready for Summer. Dying for it to get here, actually, which became quite apparent to me when I was cooking this weekend and started having memories of last summer. Food memories, which explains the asparagus. I haven't had asparagus since last summer which is not really significant except I'm reaching for just about anything I can right now.

Along with the asparagus, I also made turkey meatballs and whole wheat pasta with chipotle cream sauce made from this recipe. If I may be demanding for a moment, TRY THIS SAUCE. Be ye not afraid of sautee and puree, it's not difficult and it's entirely worth it . So worth it, in fact, that it was used on both the pasta and the aspargus and while I won't go so far as to call myself any sort of supercook, there were certainly no complaints from the eaters.

Anyway, so Summer. Yeah, I'm ready. And anything that reminds me of Summer, or makes me feel that it's near is welcome, anytime. (Hear that, 40 m.p.h. windgusts? You are NOT welcome.) As the wind gusted on Saturday, bellies full of good food, I sat down to go through some 2006 travel photos. I'm finally getting around to organizing them into some sort of non-digital format. I'm nothing if not eventual, I tell you.

The photos of a Vancouver trip seemed to be better than I'd remembered. It was such a whirlwind trip of quick sight seeing and driving, that I'd nearly forgotten the days I was able to soak up everything around me. In particular, I remember feeling very summery during a visit to Granville Island Market.

On a sunny day, under a very pretty Summer sky, we pedaled borrowed mountain bikes over to the ferry, hopped on and rode across the water to the market.

I know it's really not going to be a shock to see that I had to take pictures of everything. But really, how much better does food look and taste when you're in some far off place, padding around in sandals in warm weather with a light ocean breeze? A lot better, I think.

The fruit was all particularly beautiful. It's possible it might have been sweeter than normal fruit, too. Or maybe it was just the entire day.

I'm also nothing if not a sucker for foods arranged in a manner pleasing to the eye, especially vegetables. Those tomatoes? Went on some burgers later that were the kind of burger that makes you want to unbotton your pants so you can eat that one last bite. Of course, that might also be the way we grilled them outside and and ate them on the patio, while drinking homemade beer.

Also, the bread. Oh my Heaven and Earth, the bread! I think, if I were to allow myself, I could go on for a good eight to ten paragraphs easily about my love for bread. I will never, ever go on a no carb diet. Never. And if you were to take bread away from me, well there would be a lot of hostility. Let's just leave it at that.

Let's not forget dessert. Mass quantities of reasonably priced, beautifully arranged desserts is about all I needed to get down on one knee (okay, two) right there and ask the woman behind the case to please, marry me and if she wasn't the baker could she please find him or her so that I might marry him/her, handcuff them to me, and drag them back across the border and home to Colorado. Because then, I might be happy forever.

Thank goodness we'd biked twenty miles there and back and I was able to a) come down off my high and b) get it out of my head that marrying someone who would get up at 3:00 a.m. to make cheesecake for breakfast would actually be the answer to all my prayers.

We all know that is silly. They would also have to have a boat.

Super

Over the last couple weeks, I've been invited to a couple Super Bowl parties. Yes, the invites were nice but I didn't accept either. I'm not sure why, I just didn't feel up to it. Imagine that. So, I declined and carried on figuring I'd at least avoided the over-comsumption of food and drink and could therefore continue down this path of succeeding to be a smaller version of myself.

Then, while driving in highway traffic the other day, I felt the need to have family around me. It has been a while since we were all together and I miss that. There are also a few friends I haven't seen in a while- I miss them, too. So, after a careful twenty-three seconds of thought, I started making calls.

Thirty minutes later, I was now hosting a Super Bowl party. The funniest part of this is, I didn't even know what time the game started. "Show up whenever!" I told them. I'm sure they'll figure it out.

I've planned some food, some drink, even ordered three different flavors of "wings"- something I have never served at my house, ever. On Saturday I'll brave the crowds and shop for other snacks and, yes, beer. And Sunday, I'll have a house full of people who all accepted an invite to a party I'm throwing because I didn't want to go to anyone else's. Strange how that worked out.

Oh yes, and I'm no longer worried about the over-consumption of food because the game starts around 4:00 p.m. or something like that which means almost an entire day beforehand is available for the gym. By kickoff, I'll be guiltless.

Breaking Rules in Winter

With all this snow going on, a runner can get a little restless. Luckily, we had a high of something like 18 (F) today, so I planned the day around running at the hottest point possible. Hottest? Well, anyway, I wanted to go out and run.
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Admittedly, I am breaking the "rules" a little. Right now, I am supposed to run just one day per week and make nice with the elliptical machine every other day. I ran six miles on the treadmill at the gym yesterday, so today should have been either a) a rest day or b) elliptical day. I was okay with neither. You see, though, I'm lazy, in an active sort of way. Why go to the gym- which would involve driving three miles and combing my hair- when I could step right out the front door and go? I know, right?!
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So, with no pain in my knee (PT is working, I'm a believer!) and enough clothes on to add a good ten pounds, I was out the door. The trails, sidewalks and streets are still covered in snow and ice. Thanks, however, to Yaktrax, my feet didn't move anywhere I didn't want them to. It was four miles of loveliness in the world of running. For most of the run, I was able to run right down the middle of the road, my most favorite way to run. What? I like to pretend I own the road. Like that is a surprise to anyone.
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I didn't want to stop, I really didn't, but I knew I should. I knew I would want to run another day and therefore, would have to hold back on this day. Self-control, who knew. Besides, I had an ambitious winter soup recipe waiting for me at home.

Herbed Butternut Squash-Apple Soup

I say ambitious because, well, I don't make soup. I open cans, and I heat in a sauce pan. I don't make it. I particularly don't puree and combine. But I did today. And boy, oh boy, was it worth it. I broke some recipe rules, too, which is always pushing it because, as you saw, I don't make things. A skipping of the shallots and an adding of some sauteed red peppers just "for color" as my grandma would say, led to a soup experience. Yes, experience. Okay, maybe it was just a combination of having trodded through the snow, labored over a food processor and stove, and fabulous ingredients but still, it was so good! And so easy, which should be encouraging and make me want to try more recipes but oddly, I just want more soup.

Days Go By

It's been nearly a year since I began this blog. While that's not much for some, it's quite significant to me, if only because I've found a place to dump thousands of the billions of thoughts constantly swirling around in my head.

When I woke up this morning I watched and read some news and wondered if it was bad to feel like this, 1/1/07, were just like any other day. I still have the same thoughts, same goals, and same worries as I did yesterday. What makes this different? Should I feel as though I'm standing at the edge of something? Anything?

In two days, I have an appointment with the top sports medicine doctor in the city. He is supposed to help me with my knees (yes, knees, plural. In addition to my right knee being swollen and now painful, my left knee has followed suit since my Christmas Day run). I have had it, I am ready for help. I'm overwhelmingly motivated to run right now, and I can't. I think (and also hope) this doctor will scope both knees. I've had the xrays and MRI's, it's time to do something more drastic. I need to run. I have a half marathon scheduled in March, a full in May, another half later in the summer and probably another full in the fall. I may be injured, but I'm not losing hope. I definitely need this doctor to understand that.

Over the past two days, I have eaten enough to support a family of five. Or twelve. I credit this to football games and my grandmother requesting I bake her some more of my perfect cookies. Obviously, I could say no to neither. Sandwiches, pizza, cookies, pizza, taco salad and pizza do not make for a "hey, look at me, I've lost seven pounds" attitude, so I sure am glad the weekend is over. Not-so-secretly, though, I am glad it was here because I am reassured that I was always right about two things: cheese melted on anything makes it better and, putting bacon on pizza is culinary genius. However, I know and am okay with the fact that this has come to an end, because feeling the way my pants fit sans seven pounds, well, that's almost as good as bacon and, in my case, lasts a heck of a lot longer.

In just four short days, my sister will, once again, have to say goodbye to her husband and send him off to the danger of the Middle East. I can't even begin to express how this makes me feel. He's been home less than two months. I don't care that the President says "there's a job to do" and then proceeds to dump thousands of troops back into a war without a clear plan. I don't care that an evil dictator was just hanged. I'm glad he was captured, yes. It doesn't make up for the fact that men and women are leaving their families for "undetermined length deployments," some for a third or fourth time in two years. It doesn't change that death tolls have reached a milestone, again. I cannot write eloquently about this. It is not something I have understood from the very beginning, and I doubt I ever will. I was raised and believe leaders, elected leaders, should be respected and supported. That is what makes a country strong. Now, that's changed. It is, perhaps, what angers me most.

In about sixteen days, my sister will relocate to the West coast to finish school and be closer to family while her husband is away. Sure, I could go into all the reasons why this is a good, positive thing and the only good thing about the entire situation but really, all I can think about is how she and I will don mouse ears and recreate scenes from our childhood at Disneyland this summer.

Over the past, oh let's say 358 days or so, I've had the privilege of "meeting" some fantastic people. It's you, fellow bloggers and readers. You have opened my mind to new perspectives, new stories, new parts of the country and the world and your lives. I feel as though it's no accident that you and I have stumbled upon one another and the bits and pieces of this last year we've shared and the connections we've had are far more than I ever expected. Plus, you're super cool.

So it is okay, after all, to feel like today is any other day. Our hopes, our prayers, our laughs, our connections and our struggles are what make it so. That's the significance. Without those, I suppose, we wouldn't mind the passing of the days anyway. We might not even notice at all.

High on Christmas

I'm still ridiculously giddy about the last three days. Days spent in a fury of gift wrap, visiting, food and drink. I finished one last shopping trip on Saturday and at the sight of my last gift wrapped and ribboned, I almost didn't know what to do with myself.

But then I did. Party, of course. A Saturday night party, a Christmas Eve breakfast, a Christmas eve lunch, a gathering at Grandmas and a Christmas Day dinner of lasagna, salad (both with excessively wonderful amounts of garlic) and cookies all made for a lovely weekend of tasting goodness. The homemade pie at Grandma's after the football game was TO. DIE. FOR.

A four mile run on the treadmill on Saturday, twenty-five minutes on the bike on Sunday and a run yesterday in which I didn't track the miles or time because it was just so good made for a good maintenance plan to balance out the to-die-for treats of the season.

Christmas Day began with some chai tea and the opening of a couple gifts. Then, it was off to the soup kitchen where I ended up delivering meals to several folks unable to leave their homes for a hot meal. Once again, I feel as though I'm the one who's received a gift as I'm reminded of the pricelessness of even one day of health, family and friendship. In all the trials in this world, I truly have been spared and blessed several times over.

A friend of mine's dad, whenever asked how he's doing answers: "Better than I deserve and often too stupid to enjoy it." Isn't that the truth?

After my delivery person stint, I stopped by the parent's house for even more Christmas cheer. In all these years, my mother still maintains the title of Slowest Gift Opener Ever. She sits and watches everyone else open gifts and then proceeds to open hers not by tearing paper from the gift itself but so delicately pulling it apart that if you didn't see her hands on the package, you'd imagine that the paper were removing itself from the box by sheer will alone. You aren't sure whether to be impressed by her patience and tenderness or grab the box out of her hand and do it yourself before we grow old, forgoodnesssakes!

Later, in the sunny, sunny thirty-nine degree afternoon weather, I went for a run. My knee is still quite unhappy and the side streets and trails are still covered in snow and ice but thanks to warm sun, no wind and Yaktrax I had one of the best runs I've had in a while and, arguably, the best Winter run I'd ever had. The snow crunching under my feet and sometimes coming up as deep as just below the knee in some spots created an interesting, yet peaceful run. Everyone was inside gifting and footballing which left the roads free of traffic and left me to run right down the middle. It's so good, feeling as though the road is yours for a day. I could have gone on forever.

A freeing run to take time to reflect on a fulfilling day followed by a non-traditional Christmas meal to conclude all of it left me feeling thankful and looking forward to the new year and new days to come.

My Lame Brain Means You Get Stuff

However, whether you consider it something that is to your benefit, well you can decide.


First, here are the infamously simple recipes of the cookies from last weekend:


PEANUT BUTTER COOKIES

1/2 C peanut butter
1/2 C butter, softened (not melted, this is important- trust me)
1/2 C white sugar
1/2 C brown sugar
1 egg
1/2 tsp. vanilla (I hear authentic Mexican vanilla is best but I've yet to test that theory)
1/2 tsp. salt
1 1/4 C flour

Mix peanut butter until smooth. Add sugars, egg, and vanilla and stir until smooth. Add remaining ingredients and mix well. Roll dough into 1" balls and place about 2" apart on an ungreased baking sheet.
Press flat with a fork in a criss-cross (will make you Jump Jump!) pattern to 1/4".
Bake at 375 (F) until golden brown (approximately 10-12 minutes).


SNICKERDOODLES

1/2 C butter
1/2 C shortening
1 1/2 C sugar
2 eggs
2 2/3 C flour
2 tsp. cream of tartar
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda

In a small bowl, combine a separate portion of cinnamon and sugar. Mix together for the "coating" of the cookies.

In a mixing bowl, combine all ingredients (the order doesn't really matter because you're going to mix your butt off no matter what- it's a bit of a dense dough). Roll into 1" balls and then roll in cinnamon sugar mixture. Place about 2" apart on a baking sheet.
Bake at 400 (F) for 8-10 minutes.


***BONUS, because I like them and you***

SUGAR MOLASSES COOKIES

Melt and cool:
3/8 C shortening
3/8 C margarine

Add:
1 C sugar
1/4 C molasses
1 egg

Sift together (or, if you're like me you've never seen the point of sifting for cookies so you just mix it- and I tried it both ways just in case and the end result could not have been more alike the one I didn't sift.):
2 tsp. baking soda
2 C flour
1/2 tsp. cloves
1/2 tsp. ginger
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. salt

Preheat oven to 375 (F). Mix ingredients well by hand and chill for 30 minutes (this part, however, did prove to be important- that molasses is dang sticky!). Form into 1" balls, roll in granulated sugar and place on baking sheet. Bake for 8-10 minutes. The cookies will crinkle while baking and they are actually supposed to be a little darker than you think- that's the molasses!
(Makes about 3 dozen.)


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Now, for the 3 and 3 eating plan.

First, I am not a nutritionist, dietitian, doctor, medical professional of any kind.

I got a couple of emails about the plan and critiquing my approach. Here's the thing I should have mentioned but inadvertently left out because it was logical in my head: You cannot just go eating every thing you want or see every three hours. Duh, right? You can't have a five egg omelet with bacon and toast for breakfast at 7:00, then have a burger and fries at 10:00, and then a tuna melt and salad at 1:00, ice cream at 4:00 and then steak and baked potato at 7:00 again. Obviously, that will not work.

When my old trainer started me on this, my goal was to shoot for an AVERAGE of 300 calories per meal. That means a total of 1500 calories per day, MAXIMUM. I usually stay around 1200 when I'm not doing cardio work outs (like now) and 1500 when I'm running, biking, etc. That was/is specifically tailored for me, my body and my goals. What's best for you will likely depend on you, your body and your goals. It might be worth a try, is all I'm saying. Six pounds in eleven days is just the jump that almost any plan will be able to give you in the beginning. With good eating choices and exercise, any healthy plan will average out to a weight loss of 1-2 pounds per week.

That said, happy holidays to all, and to all a cookie-filled night! (Did I mention I get one free day a week if I want it? Hehehe.)