On Breakfasting in the New Year (Or, Here's a Porridge Recipe...)

I holidayed hard, guys.

With a vengeance.

It's not an uncommon story. Equal parts revelry and lack of time lead to sustaining oneself on hors d'oeuvres, candy canes, and whiskey for a month (note: I don't think I actually had any candy canes)(for sure the rest, though). I was more vegetarian than vegan, and I have no regrets. It was a fun month. A fun month that ended with me being not entirely sure when I'd last had a vegetable and reasonably certain that I was suffering from a mild amount of self-inflicted malnutrition.

Needless to say, when the tinsel settled, it was time to detox.

Now, "detox," is a very strong word. When some people use it, they mean they're going to embark on some kind of magic juice cleanse or fast. Good luck to them. When I use it, all I really mean is that I start paying attention to what I'm doing again. It only took about two days for my blood to stop hurting, so I have faith in my system.

For me, a decent breakfast is key to making good choices for the rest of the day. However, I'm not going to get up any earlier to make it, so breakfasts that are quick and easy - or that I can prepare in advance on the day I set aside to do my cooking for the week - are also my friend.

I kicked off 2015 with a nifty little dish I found on Pinterest last summer that happens to meet both requirements, a raw buckwheat chia porridge that is super easy and satisfying. It's also vegan and gluten free, so extra snaps if either of those things apply to you or you're having friends over for breakfast that you don't want to poison. Recipe after the jump.

On Pop Tarts (Or, I Assembled These and They Weren't Poison)

So, full disclosure: I love Pop Tarts.

Not all of them - the fruit ones never really did it for me. Did this preclude me from eating them? No. When you're bouncing from vending machine to vending machine, you're forced to accept very quickly that you'll have to settle for strawberry. Such is life.

But when I had a choice? Three words: Brown. Sugar. Cinnamon. S'mores were a fair back-up, but it was all about the BSC (nobody called them that)(that's what we called the Baby-Sitters Club)(parentheticals).

I didn't even toast them, you guys. Didn't need it. I'd just tear open that silver plastic and live the dream. Hot or cold, that brown sugary goo in the middle with its hint of cinammony goodness evoked a feeling of warmth. Maybe that's why it felt so appropriate to have them in autumn. Or winter. Or all the time.

Now, when I made the transition to a predominately vegan lifestyle, these rectangles of frosted glory quietly exited my life. Over four years later, I'd largely forgotten about them, until - without warning - they came up on an episode of my beloved JV Club podcast.

Would that I could describe the sense memory that came rushing back. The craving took hold, so hard that it made my blood hurt.

Could I have satisfied it the easy way and shelled out $3 for a box of my old guilty pleasure (it's possible I don't know what things actually cost)? Yes. But I chose a different path, my friends. Surely there was a way to craft a satisfying vegan substitute that would retain all the deliciousness while ditching the ingredients that I couldn't pronounce and thus could not really recognize as being food?

After much research and hours of baking and baseball (Go Giants!), I can now say, with confidence: yes. Yes, there is a way, and I have found it. Behold, my recipe for vegan brown sugar cinnamon "pop tarts" - just as good as, and dare I say better than, the real thing.

On the Run (Or, All of the Pasta...)

I've been running.

Literally. I run now. It's a key component of a couple items on my list - "Finish a race," and, "Finish a half-marathon." Wait, you don't know about The List? Don't worry, it's only one post back. Check it out. I'll wait.

...

Anyway, I know what you're thinking: running is a weird thing to be afraid of. It's not that simple. The thing is, I'm not a great runner. Never have been. I have just enough form to not hurt myself, but not quite enough to look functional. I was always the last one picked for relay teams in grade school. "We like you," the other kids assured me, "But you're slow." I almost - almost - would've preferred that they just not like me.

So the running stuff...it got onto The List not so much because I was too afraid to try it, but because I had told myself I couldn't do it. Sometimes moving past your fears means reminding yourself that you are, in fact, capable - even if you'll never be anywhere near the best.

Which is all well and good, except that I do not like running. The joy that I find in cycling, that I've started to find in hiking and (indoor) rock climbing, isn't there. I get bored. Sometimes I get angry. Turns out, when I'm around other people, I get competitive. Kind of viciously. Only in my mind, of course, but I discovered during my first 10K that Mind Me can get mean. Please forgive me - it's the Call of the Wild, guys. We do what we must to survive.

I'm trying to learn to love it. Well, I say, "love"...I probably mean, "like." Well, I say, "like"...I probably mean, "mostly not hate." Because 13.1 is a lot of miles, and I've got a little over a month of training left.

Let's transition into the kitchen-y bit. A side effect of training for the race I've committed to running in the nearish future that it's way too late to back out of now what was I even thinking has been a change in metabolism. Or something. Look, I'm not a doctor, I just know that now I'm hungry basically all the time. Which is fine - I've hit a point where I'm more active now than I've been since I played sports. I'm trying to respond by staying nutritionally balanced and surrounding myself with a myriad of healthy but exciting snacks so that I don't end up hangry and confused and eating pizza all day, everyday for a week. Note: That actually kind of happened once, though, and you know what? The world didn't end. 

Sometimes, though, all your life force wants is something quick and cheap and filling. "Pasta," the wind whispers to you, "Make pasta."

On Quick and Easy Dishes (Or, Sorry, I Was Supposed to Do This Weeks Ago...)

I'm a jerk.

Having a multipurpose blog means that when someone says, "Hey, saw your Instagram photo of your dinner 'cause you're one of those people, can I get the recipe," I tend to answer with, "Sure! I'm going to put it up on my blog this week." Which is a great response, in theory, because then I can direct anybody else who asks to one place and hey, new blog post!

However, sometimes, "I'll put it up on my blog this week," really means, "Next week," or, "In a couple months," or, "Never."

Sorry. If you're one of the people I've inadvertently fibbed to, do know that I always start with honest intentions.

As penance, I'm finally providing you with one of my favorite recipes, and I've another post in the works that will feature a new summer favorite. I hope we can still be friends.

Cooking is my favorite. I genuinely enjoy it, and on the health front, the best way to know exactly where your food came from and what went into it is to make it yourself.

However, cooking can also be a major time suck, especially if you're working late or if you have a long commute. I try to plan for the week and reserve some time on Sundays to prep things so that I can just reheat when I get home, but it doesn't always work out that way. This is when it helps to have a couple of super quick and filling dishes in your back pocket - they'll keep you from leaning on takeout, which will rob you blind and probably leave you nutritionally unsatisfied, while still allowing you to eat dinner before 10:00.

After the jump, you'll find one of my go-to's.

On Soups and Slipping (Or, Winter is Coming)

Early Monday Morning, my dear father decided it was incredibly important to hose off his car in front of the house before driving it to an undisclosed location. Approximately one hour later, I slipped (but did not fall - it's the little victories, guys) on our icy driveway. Winter weather had arrived in SF with an unusually aggressive vengeance.

I love cold weather, which is likely equal parts growing up in a place where, "winter," does not mean blizzards and the fact that I tend to run very warm. Though, side note, I do not romanticize snow: having had my life interrupted, albeit briefly, by it when I was at school in Seattle, I learned very quickly that snow is just complicated rain. Fun for atmosphere if you have nothing to do, terribly inconvenient when you have to go on living your life. No, San Francisco winters are just right for me: chilly, occasionally rainy, but manageable.

And soup is one of those things that makes it manageable (see what I did there - TRANSITION!).

Making soup is one of the best things ever. It's an inelegant, soothing process that makes you feel homey and usually results in your whole kitchen smelling amazing. Plus, soups are so versatile - you can freeze them and store them, eat them all week, whatever your situation calls for.

I got home from work a little early on Tuesday and was delighted to discover that I had all the makings of a white bean and garlic soup in my pantry (that final week before payday can sometimes result in questionable food choices, so this really was a coup). You can find the recipe for this hearty little number after the jump. In the meantime, watch out for ice on the sidewalk. Seriously.

On Replacements (Or, That Time I Almost Blew Up My Food Processor)

This could be about how The Replacements totally reunited in Canada, which I'm very, very excited about. I used to put Tim, into my stereo in college and write for hours. Still, I've got to be honest with you: this isn't about Paul Westerberg so much as it's about another recipe. I know. But that's all I've got right now, and this totally justifies my recent need to Instagram everything I cook. So.

Part of transitioning to a vegan lifestyle is bidding adieu to quite a few delicious things that just don't make the cut anymore. If you're shifting your eating habits for purely or predominately ethical reasons, this is probably less difficult than if you're someone like me who's just looking for the right way to start making better life choices after realizing that still eating the last piece of cake even though you'd just dropped it on the floor was actually a rock bottom moment (not a hypothetical example so much as a thing I actually did six years ago - like I said here, impulse control).

We can all agree that not being able to eat a thing that is awesome sucks. As such, in this world of food allergies and alternative lifestyles, all sorts of enterprising folks have devised a number of, "replacements," for the things that we have to/chose to give up.

Now, I have no illusions about any of these substitutes being, "just like the real thing." Bacon is bacon, crispy tempeh strips are crispy tempeh strips. While they can serve the same purpose in a meal, they are not the same thing and never will be. Once you accept this, you will live a happier life of realistic expectations where you can enjoy things for what they are and not what you wish they were. I know. Next, I'll be posting about how to achieve world peace.

So please know, in your heart of hearts, that when you read and/or execute this recipe I'm about to share for raw, vegan, "Nutella," you will not be getting Nutella. In fact, the only reasons I'm attaching that brand to it are, A) that's how the original source labeled it, and B) it provides some context for how to use it. Do not prepare your senses for an experience they are not about to have.

On Breakfast (Or, Trying Not to Fail at My Own Life Plans)

So here's a thing that is true: breakfast is good for you.

I know. Stop the presses.

Now, whether or not breakfast is, "the most important meal of the day," as our parents and most after school programming would suggest, apparently remains to be seen. There are studies and articles and what have you floating around out there making the case for lunch and/or dinner. My non-scientific opinion is that all three meals are kind of equally important, as skipping any of them tends to throw life out of whack and/or send me spinning into a blind rage.

And yet...

It's just so easy to miss breakfast. Even now, when I'm fully aware of the consequences, it's one of the first parts of my morning routine to get cut when I'm bargaining for extra minutes of sleep. I don't know what it is - the proximity of the meal to what's often the most rushed part of the day, the popular idea that breakfast is really just first dessert (why did we even let Pop-Tarts become a thing?)(because they're disturbingly delicious slabs of sugar and chemicals, damn them)(triple parenthetical), the government (I needed a third thing) - but, despite my best intentions, I am a serial cereal skipper (I know, I'm so sorry - not sorry enough to delete it, but still).

Well, no longer. I am making this bold declaration to the universe, the cyberverse, and the 4ish people I can mostly guarantee will at least sort of skim this post: I will make breakfast a legitimate priority. And I don't mean I'm going to have a cup of tea and merrily skip off to start my day, satisfied that I have achieved my goal. Simply throwing something into the morning meal time slot will not necessarily allow you to reap the benefits of being a breakfast eater. Am I saying ditch your coffee and never look at a donut again? No. Donuts are amazing. And I mean, I'm not at all fond of coffee, but I don't begrudge you the right to enjoy it.

What I am saying is that, occasional indulgences aside, it's just as important to consider the nutritional value of the first meal of the day as it is the second and third. Because again, in a world full of pastries and pancakes and something called toaster strudel (again, why did we even...?), it's so easy to forget that you're meant to start most days with purpose, and that maybe pouring a bag of refined sugar onto your soul isn't necessarily going to be conducive to optimal brain function.

Now, does this mean we all need to resign ourselves to eating nutritionally enriched cardboard and living lives of sadness? No. Promise. What I'm reminding myself, as much as anyone else, is that crafting a dish that is both functional and phenomenal in the morning is neither impossible nor complicated. Exhibit A after the jump.

On My Veganniversary (Or, Lots of Made Up Words)

It's my 3 year veganniversary.

I know, because I officially became a vegan the day after the series finale of Lost. Let me clarify by saying that these two events were unrelated, though a part of me would very much like to pretend that I was so bereft without The Island that I somehow couldn't face the prospect of continuing to consume animal products. It's pure coincidence, but ended up being a handy way of remembering when my adventure began.

My path to veganity (which isn't a real word so much as a term that I appropriated from Scott Pilgrim) was both simple and complicated. I didn't make the change for reasons of animal rights, though I have nothing but respect for people who do. It's certainly an added bonus that I've adopted a lifestyle that is kinder to my furry and feathered friends, but I wouldn't want to accept credit where it is not due.

I became a vegan because I needed to change the way I was living my life.

Look, before we go any further, I'm about to get into some self-image stuff, and that's tricky. If you are friend or foe or stranger, understand that I am neither expert nor authority. If I were, "M.D." would follow my name and you'd be reading this in a book that would probably feature a picture of me surrounded by puppies dressed as vegetables or something because taking serious posed photographs makes me very uncomfortable. I'm not commenting on anybody's feelings or lifestyles but my own. So.

I'm an emotional eater with a side of food-related impulse control. I know, I know. Stop bragging. But it's true. As a sensitive, highly anxious kid, I learned pretty early on that food brought a lot of sensory satisfaction and afforded me a feeling of control that I didn't seem to have over other things in my life. I never starved myself, and I didn't really binge eat - not in the traditional sense, anyway. But I did toss any and all regard for my health aside.

The way my brain typically reacts to food can best be described as follows: Candy tastes good. Thus, eating some will make me feel good. Where some would make me feel good, all will make me feel really good. Feeling good is the opposite of feeling bad. Ergo, I should probably eat all of the candy. Everyday. Forever.

Cut to me at 23, unhappy as a person could be, both emotionally and physically. I was two years into a job I  hated and, instead of dealing with my feelings, I went for the instant gratification of comfort food like a champ. Everyday. Forever. My clothes didn't fit, I felt sick almost all the time, and I was too afraid to go to my doctor for any reason at all because a voice in the back of my head told me there was no way that I wasn't at least borderline diabetic.

"I need to change something," I told a friend desperately, probably as I realized I had hit my personal bottom. "I don't know what, but I need to change something."

I had done Weight Watchers in college, but it didn't work for me. I'd do really well, then slip, feel like I failed, and surrender to the guilt. I flirted with the idea of cutting out sugar for awhile, and maybe even experimenting with being a vegetarian.

A series of tweets (thank you, internet and Olivia Wilde) led me to Alicia Silverstone's book, The Kind Diet. It broke down vegan philosophies and examined the politics of the food industry in a really gentle, logical way. The book didn't tell me I was living my life wrong - it just presented another option. It was the right message, presented in the right way, at exactly the right time.

Now here I am, 3 years in. To commemorate the occasion, after the jump are a few things I've learned.

On That One Time It Was Easter (Or, Not That Time I Explained 4/20 to My Mom)

Remember when it was Easter?

Fine. It was sort of a month and a half-ish ago, and shame on me for not posting about it in a more timely manner. However, it's either this or the story of me having to explain to my mother the significance of 4/20, and trust me, this has the potential to be more useful.

So.

Remember when it was Easter?

I am delighted to say that I have a gigantic and wonderful family. When you're Irish, Catholic, and American, this typically means that Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter (the Big Three, if you will) are major affairs full of food, family, and fun (also, alliteration).

The former of that trifecta of holiday F's got a bit trickier when I became the first and only vegan among meat and cheese loving relatives. First off, let me say that everyone has always been very supportive of my choice, and I love to cook, so contributing a dish that I can eat to the potluck affairs is more fun than frustrating. But it's a little intimidating too. There's some skepticism that accompanies the idea of veganity. Were there a standard information pack for beginners, the phrases, "So...what do you eat?" and "Yeah, I had a vegan cookie once and it tasted like cardboard. But it's cool that you're doing that," would be listed under, "Things You Will Hear Constantly for the Rest of Your Life." When I make something to bring to a family gathering, it is with the knowledge that a combination of genuine curiosity and politeness will prompt most in attendance to at least try it. There's added pressure for it to be good, lest I set back the cause.

I know. It's a rough life. Fortunately, there are sites like Isa Chandra Moskowitz's Post Punk Kitchen, to which I turned for a simple and super delicious recipe for March's Easter brunch. I ended up going with the Raspberry Jam Swirl Crumb Cake, making a few modifications along the way. Recipe and pics after the jump.

On The JV Club, Episode 49 (Or, That Time I Sort of Threw a Birthday Party for a Podcast)

It's a dark and rainy day here in CDogland and I am in bed with a gnarly cold, so let's take a journey back in time about two weeks to another rainy day when I was mobile and not forced to breathe almost exclusively through my mouth.

As I'm sure I've mentioned before, I am very pro-podcast. Listening to them has expanded my world on all sorts of levels, be it by introducing me to new performers, informing me about events, or even just helping me think about things in new ways.

Two of my friends - Jennie and Natalie - recently mentioned that they'd like to get into some podcasts, but that the idea of just sitting and listening was unappealing. Always one to embrace a theme, I suggested that we start having podcast parties. We're crafty people (knitting, crocheting, baking, soldering - there aren't many DIY projects we wouldn't attempt at least once), so I figured why not pair creating with listening? And, on top of that, why not share what goes into each event with you?

The day of our first as-yet-unnamed gathering happened to fall on the one year anniversary of The JV Club podcast, so it seemed particularly appropriate to start there. Hosted by Janet Varney, the basic premise of The JV Club is that guest and host alike talk their way from adolescence to adulthood. It's a part of the Nerdist network of podcasts, and I found my way to it through them and through being a fan of Janet, who is one of the three co-founders of SF Sketchfest and voices the lead on The Legend of Korra, among other things.

Of my mainstay podcasts, I can say without hesitation that The JV Club is my favorite. Listening to it has made me laugh, made me cry, made me cringe - sometimes all within the span of one episode. It gave me the courage to throw this post out into the universe. No matter what else is going on, the hour and change that I spend plugged in feels like a safe time to listen and learn and let go.

So yes, it was a good place to start. As it was a Thursday, we met up in the evening after being released from our respective work environments. Nat and Jennie have been working on adding crocheting to their skill set, but opted to knit that night, having not quite mastered the former. I, naturally, had completely forgotten how to knit, so I offered to make dinner. On the menu: lentil soup and Mean Girl bars. Both happen to be gluten free, which I am not. I am, however, a vegan, and the twain often meet. Do know that I'll always mention whether anything I post is GF or not, and that any ingredient I mention is vegan, so I probably won't add the extra qualifier when listing it.

We listened to episode 49, which was recorded live at Sketchfest with Tig Notaro in February. I was in the audience, and being there sort of changed my life (note: if you know me, be aware that this is one of those times when I'm being completely serious about something legitimately changing my life and not like the time I saw From Justin to Kelly). I'd seen Jennie and Nat the day after for our Not-Quite-a-Super-Bowl-More-of-a-Showtune-Singing Party and couldn't shut up about it, so they were curious and I was ready to share. I prefaced the episode with Live, the recording of Tig's legendary Largo set, which will be the best $5 you ever spent, so hit that link and go get it now.

Heavy stuff gets tackled point blank, both in the episode and on the album, and maybe one of the greatest gifts of it all revealed itself when we paused to eat: we talked. Just straight up talked about what we'd heard so far and how we felt about it, and that kind of segued into us just talking about our own lives. These are people that I'm very close to, that I've known for most of my life, but sometimes it's hard to really dig in and go for it. It was nice.

We wrapped the evening with a very important first for me: I made a friendship bracelet. 26 years of living, and I'd never done it before. So, under Jennie's gentle tutelage ("Here's what you do. I'll turn away so I'm not watching and making you uncomfortable..."), I created what I'm sure will be the first of many bracelets, in the podcast's colors.

A successful first venture, and my friends are already on board for more (Jennie: "CDog, we want to have a podcast party where we make tea and scones and sit outside. Do you have an episode of something for that?").

Pics and recipes after the jump.