It's Good, Not Just "Good for You"!

So far I've made two recipes from Rebecca Katz and Mat Edelson's The Healthy Mind Cookbook: Big Flavor Recipes to Enhance Brain Function, Mood, Memory, and Mental Clarity, a title whose big promises might make arouse skepticism in some readers. Well, I can definitely say that my experiences with this book so far improved my mood, since they were delicious, easy to make, and easy on my conscience because I knew they were healthy and good for me as well as gorgeous to look at! And they definitely deliver "Big Flavor."

The cover photo is of "Thai It Up Steak Salad" (which I haven't tried yet); most of the recipes are accompanied by similar full page illustrations, and if the two recipes I tried - "Avocado Citrus Salad" and "Mexican Hot Chocolate" - are representative of the rest, my tummy and taste buds are going to be very happy, and if my mind gets healthier too, well, what more could you ask?

The Mexican hot chocolate recipe is for one serving (thank you, Rebecca and Mat!), made with a cup of unsweetened almond milk, a tablespoon of cocoa powder, two teaspoons of maple syrup, 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon, and tiny pinches each of salt and cayenne, whisked together in a saucepan while heating. I find cocoa powder easier to whisk in a bowl (no corners to hide in) so I mixed it up in my favorite cappucino mug and heated it in the microwave - even easier and sooooo delicious. The cayenne adds a delicious hint of a burn in the throat and the touch of salt kicks up all the flavors; this is hot chocolate for grownups, but I'm pretty sure the kids will love it too.


The Avocado Citrus Salad, pictured here, sounds like something I make often, especially this time of year with so many varieties of citrus available at the peak of their quality. The creamy avocado and the sweet bite of citrus are heavenly together. Add the peppery sharpness of arugula, plus shaved fennel, fresh chopped mint, and a bit of ginger in the dressing, and the whole becomes a marvelously complex melange of flavors in which each part is enhanced and elevated by the others. I'd want to eat this even if no one told me that avocado is one of the best fats, "full of brain-boosting vitamin E and a monounsaturated fat that helps lower blood pressure, which can help lower the risk of cognitive impairment" (70).

Katz began work on this book after her father's death from dementia at eighty, after a decade of struggling with the disease, left her feeling like she faced a similar timetable. What she found in her research, "the notion that what I eat can positively impact my mind [was] incredibly freeing" and left her "no longer feeling that [she's] a prisoner to [her] genetics." The introduction and the first two chapters further explain and develop this idea in engaging, engrossing prose; Chapter One, "Your Brain on Food," explains the scientific processes at work, including the relationship between the gut and the brain, a subject that's getting a lot of attention lately. Chapter Two, "The Culinary Pharmacy," lists foods from allspice to yogurt, what they're good for in terms of the brain, and how they work. That mint in the salad I made is good for for cognitive functioning, focus, learning, memory, and neuronal health not just because of its Vitamins A and C but also because studies show that "the scent of mint help[s] boost alertness and memory [and] helped subjects perform better on basic clerical skills, such as typing and memorization" (16-17). I knew that pot of mint in my back yard was more than pretty! And the fennel (I love fennel!)? It contains the B vitamin folate, which boosts mental performance and may help prevent the onset of dementia, as does its vitamin C, which "can also keep your spirits up," while its vitamin A "may deliver a boost to your learning abilities" (14). Hurray! Now I have more reasons to eat fennel than just the fact that I love it!

This book is beautiful: lovely to look at and full of useful and fascinating information in addition to wonderful recipes made with real food that packs real benefits. Katz (along with Edelson, an award-winning science, health, and sports writer) is not just a creative chef and serious researcher - she's a very good writer whose work is a pleasure to read, even if you never make any of her recipes. But please, please do make the recipes! I can't decide between the Cozy Lentil Soup with Delicata Squash and the Rosemary and Pear Muffins. Maybe I'll just make both! For more about Katz's work and some sample recipes (and pictures), you can go to http://www.rebeccakatz.com/. And then go buy this book!

A Nice Little Meal

First, if you'll indulge me, a bit of a rant: I absolutely cannot understand people who don't appreciate leftovers. I don't even want to try to understand them. We have some in our family; they're also the kind of people who say "If you have to ask the price, you can't afford it." Really? Maybe I can't - that is possible - but maybe I can and I just want to know what the seller thinks it's worth, and if we agree about that, or I'm curious how big a fool the seller thinks the consumer is. There. I feel better now.

      I absolutely love leftovers, and the little breakfast or brunch or supper on the plate below is an example of how lovely and delicious leftovers can be. Basically, everything here was left over except the egg.

     We usually have pasta on Sunday nights but I'd been craving polenta for a while so last week we had that, with some Italian sausage and red sauce, and it was fantastically satisfying. But two people can only eat so much polenta at one meal, so Joe (he was cooking that night) poured the rest into an 8" square glass dish and put it in the fridge.

      Now please don't say, "Don't you know you can buy precooked polenta in a tube and just slice off what you want" or "Isn't there instant polenta, so you can make just enough for one or two servings, super quick?" Yes, we could take those shortcuts, but . . . it just wouldn't be the same. So it takes a while to make polenta the traditional way; basically, you have to let the cornmeal and water (and some salt) simmer, and you have to stir it quite a bit. It won't kill you. Pour a glass of wine and relax, talk with whoever is around, or just put on some nice music, or read - you only need one hand to stir.

     A little more backstory: we've decided to shop as little as possible because our pantry and freezer are so full, and we've made it kind of a game to require that each meal has something from the freezer and/or pantry (long-term storage), or, ideally, both. In this case the dry polenta was from the pantry, and the sausage was a surprise from the freezer, something we'd forgotten we had.

     Then the meal that followed a couple of days later, on Tuesday, the one in the picture that you may be wondering if I've forgotten, used the leftover polenta, kale from the freezer, eggs, and some leftover chopped salad from Monday, which, since it had no lettuce in it to get icky and slimy, was just fine.

      The really cool part is that I was also able to put it together in just one pan - a nice, fairly heavy, nonstick pan really does make life so much easier.
     First I sprayed the pan, heated it on medium, and browned the polenta squares on one side. While the first side was browning I sprayed the second sides of the polenta squares so when I flipped them over they would be as well protected against sticking as the first. Be sure to use a plastic or wooden or bamboo spatula to avoid damaging the pan surface (you probably already know that - sorry). Also, polenta sets up pretty firmly, but do be careful turning the squares so you keep them in one piece - not cutting the squares too big helps. I get 9 squares from an 8" pan.
     After turning the polenta squares, I pushed them to the side of the pan and on the other side put in the thawed kale, which I'd drained and squeezed as much water out of as I could without getting weird and neurotic and excessively perfectionist about it. I used my fingers to create two little nests in the kale (you can use spinach or chard or whatever greens you have, so long as they're precooked to some degree) and then dropped an egg into each nest, reduced the heat to pretty low, and put the lid on the whole thing. By the time the eggs are cooked to your liking (I want the whites cooked but the yolks still liquid), the greens will be hot and the second side of the polenta will be browned.
     Then you just plate it up, in this case with a colorful chopped salad made up mostly of tomatoes, cucumber, red onions, and olives with a light vinaigrette. You could sprinkle a little grated Parmesan or Romano cheese over the polenta if you wish, and I like a light sprinkling of white balsamic vinegar on the greens; many people like some hot sauce on them, or on the eggs. However you choose to dress it up with condiments - or not - it's a tasty, simple, well-balanced meal with only one pan to wash. That works for me.
   

A BONE TO PICK

     Those of us who are interested in food and the politics of food - food safety, healthy food, access to affordable and healthy food, food-related health problems and food as a way to improve our health, the dysfunctional relationship between consumers and the industrial producers of food - are fortunate to have so many knowledgeable and concerned individuals taking up the cause of telling us the truth about what we put in our mouths. These writers include but are not limited to Eric Schlosser (Fast Food Nation), David A. Kessler, M.D. (The End of Overeating), Michael Pollan (In Defense of Food, The Omnivore's Dilemma, and more), and Mark Bittman, whose many cookbooks and New York Times columns would provide a much-more-than-adequate education in all things food-related even if no other resources were available.

    I have quite literally been reading Bittman for decades, and so I was delighted when Blogging for Books offered me the chance to review his newest book, A Bone to Pick. Since he left off writing his "Minimalist" column for the Times, Bittman's columns and blogs have addressed the tougher and trickier topics of, to quote the subtitle of this book, "The good and bad news about food, with wisdom and advice on diets, food safety, GMOs, farming, and more." Much more.

     No one can deny that we do not eat as healthily as our grandparents did, or that we eat things they might not even have recognized as food, full of ingredients even we, even if we could pronounce them, would be unable to define or explain. From the addition of antibiotics and pesticides and herbicides to GMOs, much of our produce and animal products look very different from the way they did fifty years ago, and the ways in which they are processed before they get to us have also changed radically. These changes, and the science and the politics behind them, are just some of the things Bittman covers in the chapters of A Bone to Pick, which is a collection of his writings in recent years for the Times, mostly from his opinion column, with the rest from the paper's Sunday magazine.

     The book's many short chapters are divided among six main sections: 

          Big Ag, Sustainability, and What's in Between;

          What's Wrong with Meat? (no, he doesn't say we should all be vegans);

          What Is Food? And What Is Not?;

          The Truth About Diet(s);

          The Broken Food Chain;

          Legislating and Labeling.

Each well-researched, well-written, and clearly argued, and in fact entertaining chapter is designed to inform readers about what's really going on with what we eat as well as to persuade us to take action, beginning with our own food choices, to improve the situation when it comes to what we eat and its effect on our lives and those of others. 

     Bittman pulls no punches when it comes to his views on our broken food system, but he is also extremely fair and gives credit where credit is due. One chapter is even titled "Not All Industrial Food Is Evil," and really, wouldn't it be naïve to think we could feed ourselves and the world without some forms of industrial food? Bittman is certainly not naïve, and neither is he a prophet of absolute doom. In the final part of the book, in a chapter called "Why Take Food Seriously?", he writes: 

     "I've never been more hopeful. (In fact, I was never hopeful at all until recently.) Each year, each month it sometimes seems, there are more signs that convenience, that mid-20th-century curse word, may give way to quality - even what you might call wholesomeness - just before we all turn into the shake-sucking fatties of Wall-E. 

            We are taking food seriously again."

Bittman writes like the smart, knowledgeable, concerned friend we probably all wish we had, one who can tell us what we need to hear because he's right there with us; he just has more information (and, thankfully, a sense of humor). His short, clear, compulsively readable chapters are as addictive as potato chips (sorry - I couldn't resist); you'll probably finish one and think "I have time for just one more." What's so wonderful about this book is that it's not only something that should be read, it's also enjoyable to read. Readers will learn so much, and even if much of what we learn can be disappointing and discouraging (how can those corporate and legislative bigwigs be so insensitive and callous when it comes to the needs of real people?), can come away feeling empowered about issues we should probably all be paying more attention to. It's kind of the next best thing to actually sitting down to a meal with one of America's very best writers on the very important subject of food, in all its aspects.

Comfort Food and Love: A Bit of a Rant

Last Thursday Joe had oral surgery preparatory to dental implants. It was out-patient surgery but he had general anesthesia, so he was pretty much out of it all of the first day and quite mellow with pain medication the second. His mouth is still sensitive, so he's not eating anything too chewy or crunchy just yet, though we're well past the protein shakes three meals a day stage.
     Then a couple of nights ago he asked for tomato soup, so I made some based on the recipe in The New Laurel's Kitchen, with just a couple of minor variations:

I looked for a link to that recipe but couldn't find one (there are links to other recipes from that book on the web, however), so here it is, with a few minor tweaks.

Creamy Tomato Soup
1 medium onion, chopped
2 stalks celery, chopped
1 good-sized carrot, chopped
1 T. oil
3/4 tsp. dried oregano or 1 1/2 tsp. fresh
1 1/2 tsp. dried basil or 1 T. fresh (the general rule is to use twice as much fresh herb as dried)
4 cups cut-up tomatoes or 2 14 oz. cans diced tomatoes in juice
2 - 3 cups hot vegetable (or chicken) stock
3/4 tsp. salt or to taste (some commercial stocks are pretty salty)
pepper to taste
1 cup whole milk (or 1/2 cup dried milk powder blended with enough water to make 1 cup liquid milk)

In a big pot, sauté the onion, celery, and carrot in the oil until soft. Add oregano, basil, and tomatoes and simmer gently about 5 minutes. Add the stock, bring to a boil, and simmer another 10 minutes or so.
     Remove from heat and use a slotted spoon to lift out the solids and transfer to a blender or food processor. My standard-sized blender is just big enough for this. Now be careful when you purée hot things - the pressure can build up unpleasantly and lead to a real mess. I take the clear plastic thing out of the middle of the blender lid and put a clean folded dish towel over the opening, holding it on with my hand. That's what I've seen the pros do on the cooking shows and it seems to allow enough air in to avoid explosions while keeping the lid on (literally). Blend until smooth and then return to the pot along with the milk to reheat a moment before serving.

     Yes, it would be much easier to open a can of Campbell's soup, and when I was a kid, that lovely red label did mean comfort - Joe still likes it but he says he likes mine better (I suppose he has to say that, but I do believe him). Certainly Campbell's is cheaper than homemade. But I just don't like canned soup. Maybe it's un-American, but that's the way it is. I don't hate it, at least not the tomato soup, but I really don't like it.
     When we were kids my grandmother bought Campbell's tomato soup and cream of mushroom soup. My brother absolutely adored the cream of mushroom. Maybe he still does. I thought it was okay. But now I truly do dislike it. I just don't understand the appeal; I can always taste it, no matter what it's in. It's the reason we don't have green bean casserole at Thanksgiving, though I'm sure there are recipes that don't involve cans of soup, cans of beans, and cans of fried onions. Maybe I just like green beans too much to subject them to such cruel treatment.
      Last night Joe asked for macaroni and cheese so I made a big pot of it, again from scratch. I don't know if I'd still like the Kraft version that I used to think of as comfort food years ago. Joe admits to a guilty fondness for it. Anyway, I was planning for leftovers and there were none.
     Tastes change over time and with exposure to different foods. The cheese sandwiches I used to eat with Campbell's tomato soup were made with Velveeta and Miracle Whip on spongy white bread and I loved them. I don't think I even tasted real mayonnaise until I left home. I was a white bread kid until I moved in with a roommate who only ate whole wheat and I thought, "Yeah, why not, if it's important to her?" Of course that was also in San Francisco, one of the world's great food cities, a city which changed my life in many ways, but Lorraine Brown, with her insistence on whole wheat bread, deserves recognition, wherever she is today.
     I find all this very interesting, and I am concerned about our country's continuing shift to more and more processed foods. Michael Pollan, in In Defense of Food, offers a very readable treatment of the topic, along with the sensible advice that we not eat anything our grandmothers would not have recognized as food. Maybe, given my grandmother's use of canned soups, that should be our great-grandmothers. In The End of Overeating, David A. Kessler, M.D. explains how the processed food folks get us hooked on their products by the sneaky and clever addition of way more sugar, salt, and fat than real food needs.
     To come back to today's title, food is one of the ways humans have always offered comfort and shown love, and providing real food just seems more loving to me, though I understand that our lives are busy and our culture has conditioned us to believe that processed foods are quicker and taste better. And I'm not so pure myself - I have my bad food flings, but mostly we do eat healthy food that doesn't come in boxes with ingredients very few of us can either recognize or pronounce. So that's my rant for today. I think it's past time for lunch.