Hello, friends. So glad it’s nearly Friday! Thanks for such enthusiasm over the carrot and oat bread. A good many of you told me you plan to make it this weekend, and if you do, I hope it turns out OK.

Today, I wanted to delve into something a little more thought-provoking than carrot bread, and share with you this very moving article on ED recovery. It appeared in the Huffington Post this week, and it is written by Aimee Liu, whose work has inspired me tremendously.

I was first made aware of Aimee Liu’s writing when a very special CR reader and friend recommended her to me. I promptly began reading her blog, and I also read her book Gaining, which I would urge you all to explore at some point. The book details what I often all the “afterlife” of an eating disorder: not just the road to physical healing and/or restoration of physical health, but rather the months and years that follow, when you’re learning to be at peace with a post-ED life. For me, it was in many ways harder to accept a long-term existence that wasn’t governed by the pursuit of thinness, and feel comfortable in a body that was not underweight, than it had been to originally admit I had a problem. Aimee Liu addresses the ups and downs of “gaining” both literally and figuratively, by detailing all of the things one ultimately “gains” from recovery—intimacy, sense of self, freedom.

Aimee Liu, by Charles Drucker

In her article this week, Ms. Liu talks about the so-called “half-lives” of eating disorders. By this she means the behaviors and compulsions that, while not necessarily food restriction, binging, or purging, evoke similar cycles of illusory “control.” She describes catching up with some of the women she’d met in recovery communities years after their initial conversations about the ED recovery process, and being dismayed to find that many of them continued to engage in patterns that were reminiscent of their original, full-blown disorders. She writes,

We no longer necessarily binged, purged or restricted using food, but we binged, purged and restricted in other ways. Some used exercise, others sex, drugs, alcohol, work or religion. We still obsessed, still beat ourselves up emotionally, still engaged in compulsive behaviors.

As I read this, I couldn’t help but think of so many of the patterns I’ve observed in my own work and forays through healthy eating communities: women who “compensate” for a dessert with a whole day of lemon and water fasting the morning after; athletes who “burn off” perfectly reasonable meals with extreme exercise. Certainly, I’m not immune to the impulses: as hard as I’ve always worked toward recovery, I’ve given in to my own moments of self-imposed “punishment.” I do my best to fight these impulses whenever I sniff them out, and part of my own recovery has been a commitment to steady, sensible, and moderate behaviors.

Ms. Liu goes on to say that the explanation for continued ED behaviors—not anorexia, bulimia, or EDNOS per se, but habits that are bound up in the same motivations—may be evidence of the genes that scientists are increasingly linking to eating disorders (sidenote: I just wrote a biology paper on this, so I’m a bit of a nerd in this area of research). If eating disorders do have genetic origins—and indeed most research says they do—it would explain why so many men and women who have been vulnerable in the past can become vulnerable again.

Liu ends the article on a positive note, reminding readers that proactive, early detection and treatment of EDs is the surest means of treatment. While it’s true that an enormous number of EDs go untreated, I believe that much of the shame and stigma attached to EDs is lifting, and that more women and men are seeking out help and support for this reason. I hope so, anyway; when I started Green Recovery, my only hope was to make all of us here in the CR community feel more comfortable talking about these issues. With any luck, such conversations are being struck all over the world, and helping more people to help themselves.

What Liu’s article really brought up for me was the idea that “recovery” itself is a slippery term. I have always thought that my own recovery moved in two phases: first, I came to terms with the fact that I was unhealthily thin and I gained weight. It was quite some time, though, before this physical recovery turned into a fuller and more honest recovery. That process took years: it involved finding veganism, opening up about my compulsions and history with family and friends, and learning to embrace my appetite. It meant finding a way of eating that gave me not only sustenance, but spiritual nourishment as well. That was phase two, and it was only afterward that I was able to successfully and lastingly manage the tendencies and patterns that had made me ill in the first place.

Phase one was terrifying. But phase two was the real test of my strength.

Readers have often confessed to me that, years and years after a formal (medical) ED recovery, they continue to struggle with compulsions or thought patterns that are reminiscent of their disorders. They get angry at themselves for these lingering vestiges of their EDs, and feel frustrated by the fact that they can’t just “move on.”

What I say to these readers is this: “recovery” does not mean that you never have a disordered thought or impulse again. Perhaps it works this way for many people (I hope it does), but that isn’t the norm. Recovery, at least as I understand it, means restoration of the physical body, restoration of the spirit and sense of self, and a commitment to managing and resisting the compulsions, restrictions, or habits in which your ED resided. It means committing to wellness, in every sense of the word.

Eating disorders rarely just happen to people; rather, they tend to grow out of preexisting personality traits. That’s why it’s so unfair to tell a person with an ED simply to “get better”—how can they do that without seemingly excising the part of their character that the ED fed upon? Instead of advising anyone to “get over it,” I like to remind people that recovery can be a process of self-recognition and management. I still occasionally experience the voices and impulses that fueled my original ED behaviors, but I’ve learned to recognize them immediately, fight them actively, and channel my energies away from them.

I’ve also learned not to feel ashamed of the traits that made me susceptible to my ED. As Liu points out, many of the traits that contribute to ED development, like perfectionism, can be helpful and productive. My perfectionism, my odd streak of asceticism, my compulsive energies, and my obsessiveness all made me vulnerable to disordered eating. But they’re also what make me a great worker, a committed student, and a person of extreme intensity. And I love them for that. I simply recognize that they need to be directed to places where they can help me to thrive.

In her article, Liu quotes psychiatrist and eating disorder specialist Joel Yager, who once said to her, “Know thyself… What is your biology? What is your calling? Study your temperament. Be respectful of it.” If there’s one tremendous thing I’ve “gained” from recovery, it is a full appreciation of my character, with all of its strengths and occasional demons. And life is so much richer with that kind of self-respect.

I’d love to know what you think about all of this: the article, the “afterlife” and “half-life” of recovery, the genetics of EDs. And I’d love to know how you personally understand the word, “recovered.”

xo

Top image source.

Last Friday, on my way back from upstate NY, I stopped into the cozy and warm Our Hen House HQ in Soho to do an interview with Jasmin and Mariann, the energetic, hilarious, and passionate co-founders of this innovative non-profit. Jasmin and Mariann are incredible activists: they are outspoken yet compassionate, and they marry their reverence for animal life with their convictions about LGBT rights, health, and many other topics. Jasmin has taught me that being an activist means using your unique talents and convictions to spread the world about veganism. I’m passionate about health, feminism, and fostering positive body image, so I try to write about veganism through those three prisms. Whatever your passions are, you can use them to help animals now.

The podcast will air on Saturday, and it will be available for download here. As you’ll see, we spend a lot of time talking about my decision to become a post-bacc, my Green Recovery series (and the links between ED histories and plant-based diet), and my own eating habits. But right now, in the spirit of our upcoming New Year, I wanted to focus on one of the questions that Jasmin asked me: “Do you have a New Year’s resolution?”

“No,” I answered immediately.

I don’t like resolutions. Sorry, world–I know everyone loves them, and I understand why they can be inspiring, but I like to see every day–heck, every hour–as a moment to resolve to do great things. Using the New Year as a focal point just stresses me out. More importantly, the rash of diets and “cleanses” that spring up each January tend to dismay me. So much so, that when Jasmin reframed her question elegantly to “do you have a hope for the new year?” part of my answer became, in not so many words.

“I hope people will stop setting short-term dietary goals for themselves.”

This was actually tricky territory for me to talk about, because I realize that many of my readers have been inspired to improve their health or try veganism because they did a “detox” or a challenge. I also know that dietary experimentation has helped many of my readers to find better health: it was the thing that gave them the courage to question a doctor who had dismissed their symptoms, or allowed them to uncover a food intolerance that had been plaguing them, or it helped them to inch closer to a vegan or raw diet. Experimentation and short-term goal setting can be deeply empowering, because it helps us to break pre-existing patterns of behavior, and to explore a lifestyle change without becoming overwhelmed by the notion of “forever.” So, dear readers, don’t get me wrong: if there’s a vegan challenge you’re particularly geared up for this year, I’ll be cheering you on all the way.

With that said, I cannot count the number of emails I get each year at this time, detailing the fasting, calorie restricting, food group eliminating, and wacky beverage drinking that people intend to start their new years with. And it makes me sad, because these “plans” are not nourishing, they’re not always pleasurable, and most of all, they’re just not sustainable.

No, this isn’t an expression of concerns over fasting, which I know that many of you do find truly rewarding. It’s more gentle reminder not to let short term dietary goals eclipse long term goals. For me, the beauty of the last decade of my life is that I stopped with the constant dietary experiments, the wacky fads, and the eliminations of one thing after another. Instead, I found a way of eating that I knew would continue to be rewarding not only for a day, or a month, but the rest of my life. As liberating as it is to try new things, it is also tremendously liberating to feel that one has found one’s own “identity” as an eater.

So, this January, I would invite you all to continue exploring your dietary identities. If this means taking a month long vegan challenge, or even eating one more plant based meal each week, then go for it! But my hope is that many of you will reject dietary patterns that are short-term by definition. Back when I was taking clients as a nutrition coach, I often asked, “Do you think the way you’re eating now could possibly stand the test of time? Are you really sure you won’t get sick of it?” This was almost always a response to a client telling me that he or she had embarked on a diet that was hopelessly restrictive. And the answer was always “I doubt it.”

Instead of flirting with diets that promise you a new beginning, but deprive you of pleasure in order to get there, try, for a change, to greet the new year by being generous with yourself. Envision a way of eating that will feel rewarding–not just this week, or this month, but for years and years. Remember that finding pleasure in the way you eat is just as important as being healthy, because without the former, the latter won’t last.

I can’t tell you exactly what I mean by an “eating identity” that will last, because this is different for all of us: we all need and want different kinds of tastes and textures and rewards from our food. 100% raw foodism might be feasible long-term for some people, for example, but it’s not feasible for me. Instead of doing a “raw month,” I simply commit to an eating style that prioritizes and celebrates raw food. Figure out what your own long-term needs are, and put them first.

And if you already find pleasure and health in the way you eat, do something really revolutionary this year, and don’t make a dietary resolution at all. Commit to reaching out to family and friends, to enriching (and perhaps reevaluating) your professional situation, or to doing more to help animals. Articulate a hope for yourself–this year, my hope is to be more forgiving of my academic struggles–and do your best to see it come to life. New Year’s may be a time of self-examination, but that needn’t necessarily mean examining the way you eat. It may actually mean accepting that the way you eat is fine just the way it is.

Pursuant to all of this, two recent and fascinating articles have detailed the dangers of weight gain after calorie restriction and dieting. The first is this one, courtesy of USA Today, and the second is Tara Parker Pope’s excellent piece on the difficulties of weight loss from the New York Times Magazine. In spite of the challenges outlined in both articles, neither should be taken to mean that you should not try to lose weight (slowly, healthily) if you are dangerously overweight. But if you do not need to lose weight, and are flirting with the idea of a diet for aesthetic reasons, you may think twice.

And even though I’ll be back here tomorrow and on New Year’s Eve and Day, I want to send you all my warmest and most loving wishes for 2012.

xo

Georgetown University Tree Lighting, Dec. 2, 2011

Last night, a couple of my closest post-bacc friends and I gathered in Georgetown’s main quad to listen to carols, drink hot cocoa, and watch the annual tree lighting on campus. It was fun and festive, and for the first time this year, I felt glimmers of the holiday spirit.

I’m a big sucker for the holidays, but this is a strange season: for all of its charms, DC just isn’t home to me yet, and its hard to watch the Christmas season go by without Madison Avenue decorations, the skaters at Rockefeller Center, and, most of all, the cozy comfort of my Mom’s apartment around the corner. Beyond that, life outside this blog has been a little tougher than I tend to let on: work is never-ending, and no matter how much time, effort, blood, sweat, and tears I put into my post-bacc, I continue to struggle. At times, I feel as though nothing I do matters in these classes, and that’s a new and uniquely frustrating experience for me academically (I encountered challenging classes as an undergrad, but in those cases hard work and concentration always yielded improvement).

In any case, I spend a lot of time silencing doubts lately—about school, about med school, about my choice to change careers so dramatically—and this was one of the harder weeks.

Until last night, that is. At some point between the tree lighting, dinner with Valerie (recap to come!), and early morning yoga with Katie, the clouds lifted, and I realized that I’ve found a family here in DC.

I never worked very hard at finding a “family” in college—I made great friends, but I also had the comforts of my home town and childhood friends all around me. I didn’t need community the way kids from out of town seemed to. Now, as I battle this challenging program in a new city, I understand why community and school spirit matter so much to so many students. I’m pretty sure that I’ll survive my post-bacc, but even if I don’t, it will feel worth it to have made the friends I’ve made in the last six months.

On that note, it’s time to hit the books again. Tomorrow, a restaurant recap!

xo

Every Tuesday, I spend my afternoon volunteering at Georgetown University’s Teaching Hospital. Most of the work I do is in pediatric oncology and hematology, though I also spend time in the transplant unit and working for the hospital’s child life program, which ensure sthat the hospital’s younger patients have the most comfortable hospital stay possible.

As you can imagine, my hours at the hospital are the most important hours of my week. They give me faith in the physicians who have dedicated their lives to caring for sick kids, and, most importantly, they fill me with admiration for the courage, humor, and resilience of children. In order to protect the privacy of the hospital and its patients, I don’t blog about my volunteer work, but I can tell you that it’s the part of my post-bacc experience that reminds me why I’m pursuing a career in health care.

It’s a fairly universal policy that hospital employees and volunteers have to get flu shots. Yesterday, I got mine. As you may know, the flu shot isn’t vegan; it’s incubated in chicken eggs. This wasn’t the first time I had to make a tough choice about vaccination, but it was the most thought provoking, and I’m here today to collect some of your feedback on a complicated topic.

I didn’t intend for this to be an epic post, but I realized as I was writing that there’s no simple way to talk about vaccinations on a raw vegan blog! There is a lot of heated debate about the dangers of vaccines in holistic and raw health circles, so I should begin by saying that, from a health standpoint, I’m in favor of vaccinations. I know that many of my readers will want to draw and quarter me for this (!), but I’d ask them to remember that there is compelling evidence both for and against vaccines. We’re all entitled to interpret the evidence as we see fit. My feeling is that, when all is said and done, vaccines do more good than harm. I also concede that they carry risks, and I support the freedom of individuals and parents who choose either to forgo vaccination altogether or to vaccinate selectively.

From an ethical standpoint, my attitude toward vaccines becomes infinitely more complicated. The point of vaccination is to preserve life. Why, then, must we use chicken eggs and gelatin to do it? Saving human lives by damaging or taking animal lives is a zero sum game, and I think it’s high time for us to explore vaccinations that are developed without animal parts or products.

Right now, however, vegan vaccines are not readily available. Until a better alternative exists, we vegans have to make choices about vaccination that are troubling and imperfect. Me? I’m opposed to vaccinations that are developed through cruelty to animals. I also believe that a world without vaccination—one in which childhood illnesses would become lethal once again, and diseases would turn into pandemics more readily—would be bleak one for humans and animals alike. As a friend pointed out to me yesterday, this would be a world in which medicines were constantly being developed to cope with sicknesses, and animals would die in that process. (To say nothing of the human animals we’d lose to meningitis polio, smallpox, and the like.) Vaccination forces us to pit a vision of this world against the realities of vaccination as it exists today.

I received most of my vaccinations before I became vegan, so this isn’t a set of issues I’ve had to confront much (I’m also lucky in that I don’t depend on any non-vegan medications to be healthy). In the last decade, I’ve gotten the meningitis vaccine, the HPV vaccine, and the MMR (measles, mumps, rubella) vaccine. The former two were in my early twenties, and the latter in June, before I began hospital work. Because I wasn’t yet a vegan at the time I got the meningitis and HPV vaccines, they were easy choices for me. As I enter the health care profession, however, I’m facing a lifetime of mandatory vaccinations. As a vegan, these will present me with moral dissonance. How do I weigh my vegan ethics against the fact that vaccinations are mandatory for hospital workers?

When faced with these sorts of conundrums, I often remember the words of Vegan Society founder Donald Watson:

“. . . “veganism” denotes a philosophy and way of living which seeks to exclude — as far as is possible and practical — all forms of exploitation of, and cruelty to, animals for food, clothing or any other purpose . . .””

I know I’ve bored you all to death with this quote, but it’s an important one to remember. What does possible and practical mean? I know that there are hundreds of things that I can practically do every single day to protect animals: first and foremost, I can avoid all animal food products. I can choose to buy shampoo, toothpaste, and other toiletries that aren’t tested on animals. I can avoid purchasing leather, wool, and fur. I can check food labels carefully for gelatin, casein, and other animal food derivatives. I can support organizations that protect and champion animal rights, and I can set an example in my own life by sharing a compassionate message with readers and friends.

Vaccination is more complicated, because it’s not only a matter of suspending either convenience or pleasure (both of which I’m happy to do). If I forgo vaccination, I run the risk of either getting seriously ill myself, and/or putting others at risk. If I became sick, I might be treated with medicines that contain animal derivatives. If I made other people sick, they might become reliant on those same medicines. Is this a practical choice?

To put it in less morbid terms, let’s remember the car example, which I stole from Sayward: imagine everyone started boycotting cars because most (nearly all) car tires contain animal byproducts. Well, we’d be taking a stance against animal exploitation, but we also might run the risk of not being able to go to our jobs, take our kids to school, or travel for work. And let’s suppose that our line of work helps us to save animal lives: isn’t it better to keep doing it than to avoid tires? These scenarios are exaggerated for effect, but they illustrate a reality, which is that all vegans are occasionally forced to weigh the pressures of an imperfect world against a a strict moral stance.

When it comes to vaccines, I’m resolved to opt out unless I’m legally or professionally bound to opt in.  (No verdict yet on what I would do as a parent; that’s a toughie for me.) I would absolutely not have gotten the flu vaccine if I hadn’t been compelled to: I think it’s vital for the elderly, and for people who have threatened immune systems or preexisting health conditions that would render influenza deadly. But I don’t feel that it’s essential for me, a healthy twenty-nine-year-old with a strong immune system. To put it another way, the risk of contracting influenza does not, for me, outweigh the ethical cost of supporting the animal-derived vaccine.

Of course, I wasn’t really given the chance to weigh these factors. I got the vaccine in response to a hospital mandate. There’s a reason for this mandate: as a volunteer, I come into contact with children who have impaired immune systems. No matter how many times I disinfect and wash my hands, or put on gloves, masks, and gowns, I’m still a risk to those kids if I carry around an aggressive virus. In protecting me from some strains of influenza, the flu vaccine also protects the kids I work with from contracting a virus that would probably spare me, but might very well prove fatal to them.

What I find interesting about the flu vaccination requirement, however, is that it allows for two exemptions: 1) severe egg allergy, and 2) religious exemption. For the former, you need a doctor’s note; for the latter, a note from a rabbi, priest, or other religious guide. I couldn’t claim an allergy, but I did point out to my nurse practitioner that veganism is comparable to religion, insofar as it gives my life moral structure. Was there any chance, I asked, that it might count as exemption on those grounds?

When I mentioned this idea, my nurse practitioner replied that veganism is dietary, not religious. I disagree. Veganism is unlike religion in many ways, but the two share important similarities: both are world views that animate ethical choices, consumer habits, diet, and lifestyle. Both make claims about how people ought to live their lives. Religion is considered to be an acceptable ground for vaccine exemption. Should other sets of organized and unified beliefs about right and wrong—even if they’re secular—be honored, too?

It’s an interesting question to ponder. To raise an interesting parallel, at one point in time, the grounds for conscientious objection in the United States were exclusively religious, but the courts overruled that monopoly in United States v. Seeger and Welsh v. United States. They declared “In the United States, there are two main criteria for classification as a conscientious objector. First, the objector must be opposed to war in any form…Second, the objection must be sincere…That he must show that this opposition is based upon religious training and belief was no longer a criterion after cases broadened it to include non-religious moral belief.”

Veganism is nothing if not non-religious moral belief. (Interestingly enough, vegans have been granted conscientious objector status.) Today, the grounds for conscientious objection are “freedom of thought, conscience, or religion.” Should hospitals expand their own policies about exemption from vaccines to include freedom of thought and conscience as well as religion?

Objecting to wartime service and objecting to a vaccine are two very different things. One might argue that opting out of a vaccine but choosing to work in a critical care unit at a hospital anyway means directly endangering the lives of patients. Conscientious objectors never put fellow soldiers directly at risk; they simply choose not to serve. But let’s also remember that hospitals do allow for flu vaccine exemptions on religious grounds. If the stakes are life-and-death—if refusing vaccination as a hospital worker means that you are directly endangering the lives of patients—should any exemptions exist at all? And if they do, shouldn’t they be governed by moral belief, rather than religious affiliation?

This post, like the choices I’m writing about, has no clearly defined conclusion. Yet I find it interesting to compare the military’s attitude toward conscientious objection with our attitude toward vaccines. And since veganism does govern many of my ideas about right and wrong, along with many of my everyday choices, I think that the comparison is compelling, if imperfect.

Interestingly, George Bernard Shaw—one of my favorite dramatists—was anti-vivisection, anti-war, and anti-vaccination. And he was also a vegetarian. Donald Watson, our eloquent coiner of the word “vegan,” was a conscientious objector. It’s nice to remember that many of the tough choices we vegans face today have confronted friends of animals throughout the ages, and we can certainly look to them for inspiration.

Alright, people. Long post—sorry. Thank you for listening as I open up about these very hard decisions; there is no group of people I’d rather be candid with than you! I’d love to hear how you all feel about vaccinations and vegan ethics. Until vegan vaccines exist, how do we handle the vaccines we have? What about medications? Many prescription and OTC drugs are not vegan. Yet they are vital to people suffering from physiological and mental illness. How do you feel about them? Do we reject them, or do we put them in the context of “we all do our best?” When comes to vaccines, do you think that veganism should be observed as a grounds for exemption if religion is?

Finally, I want to point out that GUTH’s flu vaccine policy is not unique. It’s universal in hospitals and clinics, and GUTH handles it far more delicately, I’m sure, than many institutions do. In spite of how hard the choice was, I was also grateful to my nurse practitioner for her patience in answering questions, giving me literature to read, and trying to make sure that I was comfortable with my choice. I wasn’t, but her kindness did not go unnoticed.

xo

Glad everyone liked the looks of my curried carrot and red grape slaw!!!

This week, temperatures plummeted for the first time since I’ve lived in DC. In a span of only a few hours, it seemed, we’d gone from swampy heat to the distinctive chill of autumn. Fall is my favorite season, and so I welcome this change , but even I was taken aback by its suddenness, which left me with a couple of critical questions:

• Should I sleep with my window open or shut?
• Should I break out my heavier fall coat now, or should I layer my lighter jacket with a sweater?
• Is it too chilly for flats?

Most importantly,

• What am I in the mood to eat?

I’m not really a seasonal eater: my food cravings are all over the place, and I’m as likely to go through a high raw phase in the dead of winter as I am to crave hot soup in the summertime. For whatever reason, the temperatures and textures my body seems to need have very little to do with the seasons. That said, I love to use seasonal produce, and autumn is the season of winter squash. I devour pumpkin, acorn, kabocha squash, and butternut squash from September onward, with relish. I’ll eat them in the summer, sure, but for whatever reason they don’t seem to have the same allure when it’s piping hot outside.

A few nights ago, I was struck by one of my first annual butternut squash cravings. The problem was that I was equally eager for something raw and cooling. I took a moment to think about what was in my fridge, and after some consideration I decided to throw together the following high-raw dinner. It was creamy, savory, and totally satisfying, and it met my simultaneous cravings for autumnal and summer produce nicely. I even went out of my comfort zone and made my typical zucchini alfredo sauce a little garlicky: it worked beautifully, and I surprised myself by loving every bit of the garlicky taste. If you’re not into garlic, simply omit or half the amount in the recipe.

Zucchini Pasta with Roasted Butternut Squash and Cream Sauce (high raw, vegan, gluten free)

Serves 1

1 zucchini, spiralized
1 heaping cup butternut squash, cubed, drizzled lightly with olive oil, dusted with sea salt and pepper, and roasted at 400 degrees for 25 minutes.

For the sauce:

1 ¼ cup cashews, soaked for a few hours
¾ cup water
2 small cloves garlic
1 tsp agave
1/3 cup lemon juice
¾ tsp sea salt
1 tsp miso

1) Toss zucchini and squash together.

2) To make the sauce, put the soaked cashews in your Vita-Mix or food processor along with the agave, garlic, lemon juice, sea salt, miso, and 1/3 cup water. Blend until it looks thick and creamy. With the motor running (in either the processor or the Vita), drizzle more water in until the sauce is totally smooth (if you’re using a food processor, you’ll have to stop and scrape sides occasionally) and the consistency you want.

3) Pour enough sauce over your zucchini and butternut squash to coat them generously. Serve, topped with some nutritional yeast if you like!

This dinner got served with a giant salad of massaged kale and black lentils. The following night, I used up the sauce and butternut squash by making another helping, and I added chickpeas to that bowl. Absolutely delicious.

This is a perfect example of the kind of easy, versatile, and satisfying raw dinner I love. You could modify this in countless ways by adding different kinds of beans, nuts, seeds (hemp seeds would be fantastic!) or some seared tempeh. You could also substitute any winter squash or yams for the butternut here. No matter what, this is a delectable and simple way to enjoy a high raw meal that’s touched by the flavors and textures of autumnal food.

Before I go, I wanted to share a link to an article that my friend Sarah–whom you may remember from her wonderful green recovery joint post–wrote last night about the difficulties of being a raw foods lover in a community of people who are slightly more orthodox and extreme about raw foodism than she is (or wants to be). Given that

a) many people in the raw foods community do have histories of disorderd eating habits
b) dietary guidelines prescribed by 100% raw foodists can feel restrictive, and
c) restriction tends to be triggering for people with ED histories

we have a formula for potential conflict. Raw foodism (and plant-based diet in general) often speaks powerfully to men and women with ED histories; it’s a frustrating irony that it can also evoke or trigger the same black or white, rule-oriented thinking that got us into trouble in the first place. Some might claim that people with ED pasts are simply not well suited to raw foodism. But I’d like to believe that there’s another answer out there, which is for those same people to approach the diet without orthodoxy. Enjoy yourself, maintain an inclusive diet, and find a way of enjoying raw food that feels organic and reasonable to you.

This is my advice, and it’s the essence of Sarah’s honest, thoughtful, and respectful post. Sarah works in the heart of the raw world, and I think it’s very brave of her to assert her own food needs and preferences in spite of the fact that she so obviously reveres her raw food mentors. Check it out if you have some reading time, and share your thoughts!

Till tomorrow,

xo

The other day, Valerie sent me a link to this article, entitled “Eating Disorders and the Executive Woman.” She sent it to me because we’re both fascinated by the fact that so many overachieving and type A women—some of the same women Val went to law school with, and I’m doing my post-bacc with–are also prone to ED behaviors, if not full blown disorders. This particular article details what happens when those high-achieving grad students continue to harbor ED habits well into adulthood and professional life. I found it harrowing to read.

Because eating disorders tend to develop in the pre-teen or teen years, and sometimes the early twenties, we tend to speak of them as if they’re teenage illnesses that one inevitably recovers from or grows out of (or both). In fairness, many women (and men) do recover from their EDs by the time they reach their early thirties, which is why we make the assumption. But—as anyone who has ever had a disordered adult coworker, boss, aunt, mother, or friend knows—many disorders remain untreated until adulthood. These disorders may have been mild enough to escape intervention in the past, but that does not mean they won’t erupt into clinical and life-threatening conditions later in life.

This article tells the story of two women who nearly died due to the escalation of their disorders. Neither were college students or sweet sixteens; they were grown women with successful and high powered careers, families, and loads of adult responsibility. The disorders that had begun earlier in life were triggered and intensified by career demands and the ups and downs of mature life, and the consequences were devastating.

The lesson here is obvious: eating disorders strike at all ages. And because adults who suffer aren’t likely to be confronted by parents, teachers, or guardians as quickly as will a teenager, the disorders can often persist under the radar for far longer. Sooner or later, the behaviors will take a toll.

The other theme here is the ongoing link between “over-achieving” and EDs. I usually put the phrase “over-acheiver” in quotes because I dislike the implication that an appetite for achievement is somehow out of keeping with a set norm, but I know as well as anyone that there is a level of professional zeal that is probably unhealthy. And it seems to occasionally overlap with ED tendencies.

It’s funny: people always talk about how thin women in New York are, and that’s true, but one of the first things I noticed when I got to DC was how many thin and obviously very muscled women there were here. In truth, many of the women I see around town strike me as hauntingly thin. I don’t assume that all thin people have EDs, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me that there is a link between DC’s culture of hyper-achievement and Type A tendencies and the fact that many of its professionals are very slender and very into fitness.

Both women profiled in the article are on their way to recovery, which is heartening. But I think that the take home message for all of us is to be aware of the fact that ED behaviors are not confined to adolescence or young adulthood. If you have an adult friend who seems to be showing signals of disordered behavior—a parent, a colleague, a friend—don’t hesitate to express concern. And for those of us who have recovered from adolescent disorders, this a sobering reminder that recovery is a lifelong process, and it demands constant vigilance. Recovery in one’s teen years does not mean that the stresses of adult working life, parenthood, and financial independence might not trigger you once again. As a person who has had two relapses since the first onset of her disordered eating, I know all too well how fragile recovery is—even when it has been triumphant.

I’d love to hear everyone’s thoughts on the article. Have you known any adults with serious EDs? Do you know anyone whose professional life tends to fuel his or her disorder? Have you yourself suffered from such a pattern?

xo

In the last few weeks, I’ve posted about both activism (from the perspective of someone who is new to it) and about the confusion of veganism and deprivation diets. Both of these posts prompted a lot of questions about how I talk to people in my life about my veganism. Do I ever get uncomfortable talking about my vegan lifestyle? How do I sound passionate without sounding preachy? How do I know when to share, and when to be discreet?

This is actually a topic I love to write about. You may remember my post on the power of choice, in which I tried to show you ways to be confident about eating differently than others. In my Thanksgiving Jitters post, I touched on ways you can approach a holiday or gathering without feeling like you’ll have to hide your preferences. And in my Kitchen Wars post, I wrote openly about how the way we choose to eat can force us to clash with loved ones–not because anyone’s intentions are bad, but simply because food runs deep, and the misunderstandings that surround it run deep, too.

To be frank, talking to people about my lifestyle has never been a source of discomfort for me. I’m happy to share the reasons why my way of eating works for me: it makes me feel healthy. I love the food. I believe that it’s one really good thing I can do for animals and for the planet. No matter how hard it has been for you to talk about your own food choices in the past, I’ll bet that, if you were to articulate your own motives that simply, they’d sound similar to mine. Talking about your eating habits and lifestyle doesn’t have to mean launching into a sermon or defending a dissertation: sometimes it means voicing the reasons you live the way you do in the simplest and most basic of ways.

When I first became vegan, I was so excited that I told just about everyone what I was doing. Nowadays, I talk about my lifestyle when it makes sense to talk about it. If I’m having a conversation about cooking, it’s inevitable. If someone asks me what my blog is about, I share. If I show up at a dinner party with a vegan dish, I’m always quick to mention that it’s vegan, because I want people to know that vegan food can taste great. But I also don’t feel the need to “announce” my lifestyle as if it were a nametag, either. When the details of my lifestyle are germane to conversation, I share. But as much as I love to chat about veganism, I realize that not everyone in the world is as fascinated by food ethics as I am. When people are curious, I open up: when they’re not, I withhold.

If there is one broad, overreaching piece of advice I’d give to anyone who’s eating differently, it would be this: know your audience. In the company of people who are curious, you should feel free to talk about your lifestyle choices with confidence. In the company of people who are enthusiastic, you can go a step further, sharing recipes or food ideas. In the company of people who are defensive, hostile, or thoroughly sarcastic about the way you eat, I suggest you keep your sharing to a minimum. Be honest about your choices if asked. But don’t feel compelled to engage in debates or conversations with people who are determined to disagree with you. Their need to be contrary has nothing to do with you, and you shouldn’t waste your breath in an attempt to change it.

Beyond that, I have a few tricks up my sleeve when it comes to talking about my lifestyle. These are fairly specific to being vegan, but I think they apply to any frank conversation about personal choice.

1) Be Confident. The French have a great expression: “qui s’excuse s’accuse” (he who excuses himself accuses himself). You do not need to apologize seventeen times in a restaurant for asking the server to hold the cheese. You do not have to sheepishly ask a family member to serve you extra salad at a gathering. You do not have to apologize for not eating something that isn’t vegan. You have nothing to be ashamed of: veganism is your choice. And the more you grimace, twist, and shrug in discomfort and apology, the less anyone around you will believe it’s a choice you like. Be proud: there’s a reason you’re eating vegan, and it matters much more than how anyone else perceives you.

2) Be Happy. The best way to share your lifestyle with friends, family, coworkers, and strangers is with a smile and an enthusiastic attitude. It’s very hard for anyone to criticize what has obviously made you vibrant and happy: if you want to enlist the support of people in your life, simply show them that veganism makes you happy. It’s really that simple.

3) But what if you’re not happy? After all, transitioning into a vegan lifestyle can be hard. Most people experience cravings for food they no longer eat, or grapple with secret fears and concerns about nutrition and satiety. While the first few months of being vegan can be blissful and euphoric, they’re not that way for everyone; sometimes they’re anxious and lonely, especially if you don’t have a rich support system. If you’re struggling with inner turmoil over your choice to adopt a vegan diet, don’t feel you have to be a cheerleader for the rest of the world. It’s perfectly ok to tell a friend or loved one, “Actually, this whole vegan thing is really hard. I’m struggling. But my intuition is really telling me that this is something I want and need to do, so I’m sticking with it! I’m sure it’ll get easier soon. I’d love it if you would cheer me on.”

Again: confidence.

4) Be Generous. As I mentioned in my activism post, sharing delicious vegan food is one of the best and easiest ways to tell your family and friends about your lifestyle. Don’t get bogged down in talking points: simply show them that you’re choosing a lifestyle that offers you tasty, nutritious, and rewarding food. Most people have a hard time imagining an entrée, let alone a whole lifetime, without animal foods, and verbiage is unlikely to help. A wonderful vegan meal, on the other hand, is a wonderful way to help them visualize and understand that your new lifestyle is as pleasurable as it is conscientious.

5) Be Prepared. Imagine this: it’s the weekend of a family reunion. You end up at several restaurants with zero vegan options, and are forced to nibble on tiny salads or tepid vegetable plates. There’s no food for you at the reunion itself, so you walk around empty handed, attracting scrutiny and concern. You’re hungry, cranky, and all you can think about is how much better off you would be if you just ate like everybody else. Do you really think you’ll be able to talk to others about how much you like being vegan under these circumstances?

Of course you won’t. To avoid this, all you really need to do is plan. Grocery shop with a family member and bring a vegan dish to the reunion. Call the restaurants you’ll be eating at ahead of time, and work with them to construct a vegan entrée. Carry snack bars and trail mix and other vegan goods in case of an emergency. Assuring that you will be well fed is the best way to both enjoy the occasion and also to show your family that being vegan doesn’t mean starving quietly when you’re not at home in your own kitchen.

6) Be Unassuming. If you’re a new vegan who is headed out into the world, try to abandon the pre-conceived certainty that you’ll be called upon to defend your eating habits. Instead, assume that you’ll be left alone. All vegans (and eaters with strong preferences) have gotten into scenarios where we’re unfairly attacked, but those situations are not the norm. I’ve dealt with my fair share of critics, but most people express admiration when I tell them I’m vegan. Assuming the worst in other people will only lead you to be defensive and uptight, and that in turn will make people more critical of you. Instead of preparing all sorts of retorts to snide comments—or worse, arming yourself with health statistics and studies to rattle off to anyone who challenges you—prepare enthusiastic and friendly comments. Some of my favorites:

“Why vegan? Well, compassion plays a big part. But I really love how wonderful and being vegan makes me feel!”

“I know it sounds limiting, but it’s not! There are so many great things you can make with vegetables, legumes, grains, and fruits. I love being in my kitchen.”

“Miss things? Not really. I’m so focused on how much I love plant based foods that I never think about some of the things I used to enjoy.”

7) Be Forgiving: When faced with ignorant or unkind or thoughtless commentary, remember: once upon a time, you ate without thinking, too. Most of us grown up fairly ignorant of the things that make us become veg*n later on in life—ethics, the environment, health, or other. So, be forgiving when you bump up against ignorance. Being vegan is all about compassion, and that extends to your fellow humans, too.

I hope these tips are helpful. And just remember: when all else fails, let the food speak for you. Last night, I had dinner with my cousins, Aunt and Uncle. They aren’t vegan, but they are tremendously enthusiastic and supportive of my lifestyle: in fact, they’ve even begun to recommend my blog to friends!

With that said, I still see my meals with them as a chance to serve as an ambassador of good vegan food. For the occasion, I whipped up some of my famous black bean and sweet potato enchiladas, which have quickly become one of my top ten most popular recipes.

Truth be told, they weren’t my strongest batch, but the group seemed impressed anyway—and they were likewise impressed with the raw kale salad! Maybe I can inspire one of my loved ones to go meatless for one night by sharing a dish like that. Isn’t that the best way to “talk about” my veganism with others?

I think so, anyway.

What do you guys think?

Happy weekend!

xo

(source)

Hey all! Hope you’ve had lovely and relaxing weekends so far.

Late last week, my friend JL called attention to some recent media buzz about vegan diet on her brand spanking new website, Stop Chasing Skinny. For those of you who don’t know, JL—who is the author of JL Goes Vegan—created Stop Chasing Skinny to host conversations about surrendering unrealistic and damaging standards of body shape. I was thrilled with this initiative, because

1. I think JL’s a wonderful and an honest writer
2. I think she’s an ideal role model and advocate for healthy body image
3. I, too, care about starting healthy and safe dialogs about the pressure to be thin

But most importantly, I’m excited about JL’s new site because she is taking huge strides to show her readers that vegans come in all shapes and sizes. Veganism is not synonymous with thinness, nor do vegan diets guarantee weight loss; you can go vegan to lose weight if you want to, but given the wide array of vegan eating styles, it’s hardly a guarantee.

If you were to listen to the stories of starlets who experiment with vegan diets, though, you might never know that veganism isn’t some sort of crash diet. Over a year ago, Amanda Seyfried described her experiment with a raw diet as

“…Spinach. Just spinach. Spinach and some seeds.”

And recently, Megan Fox also halted a vegan diet, saying:

‘For a year and a half, until about four months ago, I followed a strict vegan diet based on raw fruits and vegetables, no bread, sugar and coffee. But I had lost too much weight.

As JL points out, it’s fantastic that a Hollywood role model wanted to be curvier and to regain the weight she’d unintentionally lost: three cheers to Megan Fox for not aiming to look like a waif! What troubles me is the fact that she, like Amanda Seyfried, seemed to equate veganism and raw food with a “detox diet” (or so these no-bread-no-coffee-no-cooked-food-no-fun regimens are often called). And that’s simply unfair: being vegan has nothing to do with tossing away one’s morning coffee, or refusing to eat bread. I can’t imagine my life without either my morning java or my beloved Ezekiel sandwiches, or without a healthy balance of raw and cooked food.

Yes, my veganism is related to a strong interest in healthy eating, and that’s true for many other vegans. But that doesn’t mean it’s synonymous with deprivation. A healthy and responsible vegan diet allows for tremendous variety and range: fruits, vegetables, grains of all types, legumes, nuts, seeds, soy foods, sea vegetables, healthy, EFA-rich oils, and even the ever-growing array of vegan imitation foods that are wholesome and made with integrity (think Luna and Larry’s Coconut Bliss, Field Roast sausages, or Daiya Cheese). There are likewise many approaches to veganism: there’s the high-raw approach, the macrobiotic approach, and the good old fashioned “I’ll eat anything so long as it’s vegan” approach. These are all reasonable ways to enjoy a plant-based diet.

What isn’t reasonable is eating nothing but greens, watery vegetables, and fruit. I touched on this in my summary of the Vida Vegan Con nutrition panel: one of the major arguments that my colleague and friend Ginny Messina makes is that many of the cases in which vegans fail to thrive have nothing to do with the elimination of animal products: the problem is that the person who got sick had also eliminated a slew of other food groups (soy, grains, fats). It’s important to be able to make this distinction: eating an animal-free diet is not the same thing as eating a green-vegetable-only diet: if anything, the elimination of all animal foods forces us to think responsibly about getting enough density and nutrition with plants. It’s not hard to do, but it certainly demands a little forethought and dedication.

Ultimately, we all make our own dietary choices. Megan Fox is now on the 5-Factor Diet; I personally think that’s a rather regimented and limited protocol, but if she feels well, she feels well. Nevertheless, I think it’s important for us all to remember that it was the “strict” part of Fox’s “strict vegan diet” that was most likely to blame for her weight loss: not the fact that it excluded animals.

The take home message? Veganism is not synonymous with lettuce, seeds, and deprivation. Approaching veganism that way is not only dangerous, but also shares a misleading image of the lifestyle with the world. I like to think that all plant-based eaters are humble ambassadors: let’s all of us show the world that it’s possible to be healthy, happy and well fed while also living with compassion.

Your turn, all! What are your thoughts? Do you see veganism as synonymous with deprivation? Why? Who do you think perpetuates that message? And what can we do to combat it?

xo

A few weeks ago, in my recaps of Vida Vegan, I mentioned that I’d attended—and would have more to say about—the activism panel, which took place on the last day of the conference. The theme of this panel was to approach activism from a newcomer’s perspective: what does it take to create a successful campaign? How can you manage the power of the Internet effectively as a means of creating change? How can we use our unique talents and skills to make a difference for animals?

I was more excited for this Vida Vegan Con panel than any other, for many reasons. First, it was moderated by Jasmin, who may just be my new favorite person. Her site, Our Hen House, is a great place to visit if you’re looking to dip your toes into the AR world.

More importantly, I’ve been thinking a lot about activism this year. As you all know, when I started writing my blog, animals had very little to do with it. They’re now the focus of my life as a vegan and a huge focus of CR. I love learning about activism. And the more I learn, the more I see that “activism” has no absolute meaning. There are many approaches to activism, and many kinds of activists.

On the panel were the wonderful and talented Isa Chandra Moskowitz, Ryan Patey of T.O.F.U. Magazine, Sunny Subramanian of Peta2, Leigh Chantelle (who I had met on our positivism panel) and Chelsea Lincoln (who writes the blog Flavor Vegan).

Jasmin asked a number of really provocative and rich questions. For example, how do you bring activism to your community when it isn’t necessarily germane?

Isa spoke about throwing vegan dinner parties in her hometown of Omaha, which doesn’t have as robust a vegan community as do Portland and Brooklyn (her other home towns). She said that there are unique rewards to cooking for non-vegans: it’s fun to cook for like-minded eaters, of course, but nowadays she has the change to introduce vegan cuisine to those who might never try it otherwise, and that gives a special meaning to her meals.

Ryan Patey mentioned that he’s trying to think of ways to help the vegan movement become more inclusive, and to initiate dialogs about gender equality, sexual orientation, and race that can be adjacent to conversations about animal rights. Jasmin echoed this sentiment. It seems logical to me that sensitivity to discrimination and prejudice in any arena would translate into an understanding of animal rights—or at least, a receptive mindset—so I enjoyed this part of the conversation.

Leigh-Chantelle, meanwhile, told us about the green earth celebrations she’s organized in the UK. She rarely states a vegan agenda explicitly at these events, but she does do her best to share any and all knowledge about the benefits of plant-based diet and sustainable, eco-friendly living. In this way, she serves two causes that are important to her, and helps others to see that they’re naturally complimentary.

If there was a unifying theme, then, it was this: vegan activism doesn’t live in a vacuum. We all draw upon the things that make us unique–our strengths, our personal histories, our professions–to help spread the word. If you happen to be a marine biologist, use your knowledge to foster sympathy and understanding for aquatic animals. If you’re an environmentalist, tell people in your community about the benefits that plant based diet will bring to mother earth. If you’re a fabulous cook, then share your meals with the world: this will help others to understand that being vegan doesn’t mean living without delicious and accessible food.

This was a really important message for me to hear. As a newcomer to the world of animal rights, I still tend to perceive myself as an outsider. “Activists” are the people who attended protests when they were twelve, started student leagues in their high schools, and flocked to anti-fur rallies while I was still steaming chicken breasts and shopping for triplicate pairs of leather boots in college. What can I possibly have to contribute?

The answer, of course, is that I have as much to contribute as anyone else. Animals need as many active voices as possible! We become activists as soon as we feel the urge to share our passion with others. And we share it in our own voices—the voices of doctors, parents, chefs, lawyers, artists, and bloggers alike.

As the panel wrapped up, there was some time for questions. I raised my hand and asked a burning question: how do you reconcile a strong animal rights message with a nonthreatening voice? My blog has always been an open forum, wherein people can share different perspectives. For that reason, I try to maintain an open and gentle tone: it feels right to me, and I know that I’m more likely to intrigue readers who are curious about veganism with kindness and enthusiasm than I would with vitriol and outrage. Even so, I do sometimes feel that, for the sake of collegiality and friendliness, I’ll mute an opinion or fail to convey how strongly I feel about something. It’s not fear of being judged myself, but rather a fear that readers might feel alienated from veganism. And that’s the last thing I want.

Isa chimed in almost immediately. “It sounds as though you’re being really hard on yourself,” she said. For a moment I wondered what she meant, and then she continued, reminding me that my only real responsibility as a blogger and an activist is to be honest. “It’s your blog,” she said, and then (forgive me as I paraphrase), “you don’t have to speak for the entire vegan movement. Just do your best.”

Identifying as an activist, in other words, doesn’t have to mean taking the weight of  an entire social justice movement onto your shoulders, and feeling personally responsible for how it comes across. If anything, that’s a slightly egotistical interpretation of activism! It simply means sharing your passion. If you’re lucky, you brighten the message for at least one reader with your own enthusiastic voice.

So now you’re wondering “what does pie have to do with all of this?” Well, at Vida Vegan Con, my new friend Kittee taught me about “baketivism” (which is actually Isa’s term). This simply means using great food as a form of activism. One of the fears that keeps people from exploring veganism is the idea that it’ll be a sad diet of sprouts and rice and cardboard meat substitutes: as food lovers, we can help to gently displace that notion by sharing the things we really love to eat.

I came home with this idea in mind. When two of my post-bacc friends moved up the road from me–a happy development, since my little corner of DC is a little remote–I decided to welcome them to the ‘hood like a proper neighbor, with some pie. Vegan pie. I had never made vegan pie crust before, and I braced for disaster, but with the help of Isa’s apple pie from Vegan with a Vengeance, things went swimmingly. And it wasn’t until my friends were raving that I mentioned–happily–”you know, it’s also vegan and organic.”

Needless to say, there was some shock over the fact that no butter had gone into the pie crust. And some curiosity–no matter how faint–about what else might be await in the wonderful world of vegan food.

Obviously, there’s no comparing pastry crust to picketing or protesting: these are different forms of activism, and the risks of the latter are greater. But it’s important for us all to remember that we can champion causes in a way that feels germane to who we are. Two of the causes I care most about are health and animal rights. I hope to serve them well by writing about veganism, by talking openly about it with friends, family, and strangers, and by bringing my passion for plant-based diet to my career in medicine. But most of all, I hope to serve them well through cooking. Because we all need, want, and love to eat.

How do you bring activism home? What does being an advocate mean to you? I’d love to know!

xo

After a delightful evening, I woke up well rested and ready for a spectacular ceremony at Blue Hill Stone Barns. Those of you who don’t know of the restaurant/farm/center for agriculture should check out the Wikipedia page, because it explains a lot about the way the institution works and what its founder, Dan Barber, is trying to accomplish. A few of you may have dined at the Washington Square location (in downtown Manhattan), and many more of you probably know of the restaurant from episode 8 of Top Chef NY, when the cheftestants paid the restaurant a visit.

In any case, Blue Hill Stone Barns is a coveted destination for all sorts of foodies (especially locavores), and I considered myself really lucky to be attending a ceremony on its beautiful and sprawling grounds:

I had emailed the wedding planner in advance (and at my host’s urging) to let her know that I’m vegan, and to go over what that meant (lots of wedding planners will understand that vegans don’t eat dairy or eggs, but forget that those things appear in pastas and breads, or forget about things like chicken stock or gelatin). She was more than gracious, but neither of us were really worried: Blue Hill has no predetermined menu, so one of its tremendous strengths is that, as it crafts a meal for its patrons based on the day’s best produce, it can accommodate just about any selective diet. I knew my meal would be good—maybe the best I’ve ever had at a wedding—and couldn’t wait to see it.

Some of you are curious about what I wore. That’s funny, because while I give fairly little thought to dressing up for these kinds of occasions, my mom still insists on documenting my attire as if I were a high school girl attending prom. This was no exception, so here you are:

Dress: J. Crew (4+ years old!). Shoes: faux suede (via Ebay).

There was a Tuxedo jacket later on, courtesy of an UWS boutique that was cheap and awesome and I miss like crazy.

The bride and groom get credit for organizing what is surely the most generous and convenient wedding, ever: there were roomy buses to pick us up in Manhattan and take us north, toward the Hudson Valley, where Blue Hill is located. They had such nice bathrooms. When you spend as much time on buses as I do, you start to notice these things.

It’s really easy to get dehydrated at weddings: the standing, the waiting for the ceremony to start, the cocktails immediately after, the richly seasoned food. Always hydrate beforehand! I enjoyed a coco water on the bus:

We pulled up to the farm, ooh-ing and ahhh-ing at the pristine grounds. Fireflies were already out:

The ceremony itself was beautiful, and the bride and groom picked some fairly perfect epithets to share in the program. My fave:

“There isn’t time—so brief is life—for bickerings apologies, heartburnings, callings to account. There is only time for loving—and but an instant, so to speak, for that.”  –Mark Twain

Afterward, we lucky guests were treated to drinks and hors d’oeuvres on the patio. The house cocktails were a mix of cucumber juice, some sort of bright purple juice (passion fruit?!), basil, and gin. I didn’t care for one but had to photograph the color:

For my part, and in keeping with yesterday’s theme, I asked for a surprise mocktail. The wonderful mixologist, Julio, made me a fantastic virgin cocktail with fresh grapefruit and lemon (super tart, the way I like it) and mint:

I caught up with some old friends from FSG:

And we all marveled over the food. Oh, the food. Let’s start with the tomato broth, a consomme so delicate and flavorful that we all were gasping with pleasure at our first sip:

I stole four of these over the course of appetizers. They were amazing.

Next up were vegan (!) tomato napoleons, featuring an eggplant cream that used silken tofu (I’m pretty sure) to achieve a rich and velvety texture:

All drizzled with aged balsamic.

Tomato burgers (covered in goat’s cheese, I’m afraid):

Non vegan corn cakes:

And the best: servers circled the room with vegetables skewered to wooden planks. Raw, lightly dressed, fresh from the garden that very day. Guess who always managed to steal the lettuce?

I mean, every time. Later, describing this to Andrea, I actually said “it was like my idea of heaven: people just walking around and bringing me raw garden veggies on a stick.” Hyperbole? Not really.

As the sky darkened and the moon peeked out, we all got ready to enter the main hall for our sumptuous dinner:

Again, Sarah and Jesse outdid themselves. From the location to the place settings to the glassware, this dinner was the definition of elegance:

I started my meal with another mocktail, this one some sort of cucumber and fruit concoction with purple basil that was too good to even describe to my friends at the table with me. They all had to taste it for themselves:

Amazing color!!

Our first coarse was a roast tomato soup. The omni diners had it garnished with caviar; I got some sort of veggie mousse that was wonderful. The soup, overall, was rich and vibrant and very silky in texture. A real treat:

Our salad course may have predictably been my favorite. Greens that were so fresh, you could taste the dew on them, dressed with only a hint of fruity oil and lemon. Most guests had a smear of goat cheese on the tray: I got an avocado mousse.

You can guess how I felt about that:

Next up was a fish course for everyone else, roast fennel and carrots for me:

There are few things I love more than roast fennel: so sweet, and it has so much character. The carrots were great, too.

For the entrée, most people were served lamb. I got more roasted seasonal veggies, including an oven roasted tomato that made me swoon, baby zucchini to die for, and some sort of herb gremolata (of sorts) that was delicious:

A whole grain would have added a little density here, but on the whole I was so, so grateful that my vegan meal was veggie-centric, rather than a bland pasta dish or faux meat, which is what I’ve gotten at other special occasions like this one. Blue Hill is known for doing innovative and brilliant things with seasonal produce, and if you ask me, the reputation is richly deserved. What a fantastic wedding meal. Can you tell I was happy?

Most of all, I was touched and thrilled to see my dear friend become a husband:

Jesse is one of the best friends I have, and now that he’s acquired his best friend for life (theme of the evening: Jesse’s best friend gave a speech about how marriage bequeaths us with a new best friend), I couldn’t be happier for him:

In all, this was a truly special night. It was grand, but never ostentatious, and the focus was on the two things that actually make a wedding fun: great music (thank you Jesse and Sarah, for a constant rotation of The Pixies, Vampire Weekend, Massive Attack, and other indie rock) and great food.

Of course, it would be tough for me to end this post without mention of the obvious: Blue Hill is a working farm, and on it, animals are slaughtered for food. It is precisely the kind of farm that conscious omnivores (a la Michael Pollan) would praise for being local, privately operated and owned, all organic, and committed to humane treatment of animals pre-slaughter. I respect this point of view insofar as I believe it offers people an alternate to the horrors of factory farming, and that it has served to awaken public consciousness and foster respect for animal life. The more farms like this that displace factory farms, the better.

At the same time, I’ve never believed that it’s acceptable to kill an animal so long as you treat it well before you do. Avoidance of cruelty is crucial, and I love that it has entered into our conversations about food production; certainly, places like Blue Hill are to thank for that. But to me, cruelty and suffering are not the only wrongs we do our animal neighbors when we choose to eat them: we also end their lives prematurely, and without necessity. As our bus pulled into the farm, and my friends exclaimed how sweet the animals at pasture were, I couldn’t help but think that many of those animals would not see the majority of their life spans. And that saddens me, even if I celebrate much of what Blue Hill stands for.

I hope you enjoyed my wedding recap, everyone. See you back here soon for some food and some healthy breakfast talk.

xo