Crazy Sauerkraut Lady

(Recipe included at the bottom of the post.)

I’ve come a long way since my first foray into making raw sauerkraut at home. I started out with a great deal of trepidation, reluctance, and even a bit of nose-wrinkled condescension towards the lowly cabbage. Yes, I was making kraut, but it wasn’t because I enjoyed eating it or felt that I benefited from consuming it. Nope. I was just making it because Kimberly (nutritionist and overall goddess) said I should, and I am nothing if not obedient.

Well, dear readers, have I ever turned a page in that book! I now enjoy boatloads of raw kraut– every day!– and I even have a hard time jarring enough of it at home to keep up with my frenetic, kraut-consuming pace. Our cupboards and fridge are filled with jars of kraut, and I even bring smaller jars of it with me in my purse if I know that we will be eating out or visiting with friends. (Yes, you heard me correctly. I am your Nerdy Friend who will show up at your door with a small Mason jar of sauerkraut. To make matters worse, I rarely bring enough to share! I’ll just cover the bases for Marty and I and leave you– my host– scratching your head and wondering when the heck I became so possessive of my cabbage. <– To explain my sauerkraut stinginess: Experience has shown me that most people– shockingly– aren’t all that enthusiastic to partake in a raw sauerkraut munch-down, and there’s no way I’m wasting my homemade kraut on anybody who is less than on-their-knees grateful for it. So I generally only bring enough for Marty and I. Just so you know.)

1.5 *gallons* of kraut at the ready… but sorry, there’s not enough to share!

Anyway.

It nearly killed me to start this epic road trip of ours, because I knew that I wouldn’t be able to take a crate of raw sauerkraut with me across the border. You’re (usually) allowed to bring (certain) food items across “for personal consumption”, but I was pretty sure that a border guard wouldn’t greet gallons of sauerkraut jars with kindness or understanding. ‘What’s that glass clinking sound coming from the back of your van? Are you a bootlegger? Wait a second– what on earth is that smell?? Smells like… rotten cabbage!’ Awkward…

I pictured myself hollering “ALL THIS SAUERKRAUT IS FOR ME, OFFICER, I SWEAR IT!! THERE’S NO WAY I WOULD TRY TO SELL IT!” as I was being dragged off to Border Violations Prison, and then I had the horrific vision of being forced to throw away all of my raw sauerkraut in front of a guard’s watchful eyes before being permitted to dock in Port Angeles, WA. What a waste of good bacteria! It was too much to bear. Yes, I am a Crazy Sauerkraut Lady, but I’m not an International, Border-Regulations-Flouting Crazy Sauerkraut Lady. Hence, I packed a solitary, small-ish jar of kraut in our cooler and braced myself for around 2 weeks without the good stuff.

Almost all of our lunches and dinners now are topped with a generous portion of kraut. This wasn’t the case AT ALL on our road trip.

After painstakingly rationing out that one jar of kraut and making it last as looooong as possible, we were faced with the great, kraut-less unknown. I’m not going to lie: both Marty and I suffered without regular doses of raw kraut en route to Arizona. Our bodies had become accustomed to healthy portions of probiotics on a daily basis, and the combination of being on the road + camping + eating for convenience (oh, hello gluten!) + sauerkraut withdrawal proved to be pretty deadly. Let’s just say that I nearly wept at the altar of Whole Foods when we finally rolled into Tucson and purchased several “transition” jars of raw kraut to tie us over until I could make our own again.

I am now in the process of buying canning jars so that I can whip us up an apocalyptic amount of raw sauerkraut for our two month visit. Yes. I’m buying jars. That I will eventually leave in Tucson when we head back up to Canada. I am nuts for kraut! (And for some strange reason, every grocery store in Canada seems to sell canning jars and supplies, but none of the grocery stores in Tucson do. I had to google search “canning jars + Tucson” to discover that jars are mainly sold in hardware stores here. Insane? Yes! Now I just need to find me a hardware store. I already bought six organic cabbages at Whole Foods. They are waiting for the jars.)

And finally– the recipe part! I am no longer making kraut the way it is specified in Kimberly Snyder’s Beauty Detox Solution book. That recipe calls for miso paste and ginger, neither of which I am using anymore. Instead, I’m keeping it simple and kicking it old school. Read on if you’d like to try making what I call “Royal Kraut”… which is basically purple and red kraut instead of the usual green version. 🙂

Royal Kraut (Vegan, Gluten Free, Soy Free)

You Will Need

Sterilized mason jars with tight-fitting lids

Wooden spoon

Food preparation gloves (highly recommended)

Large purple cabbage

2-3 red beets

1-2 tsp high-quality sea salt or celtic salt

1 tsp caraway seeds (or to taste)

½ cup filtered water

Heh. Even though this receipe is for red cabbage/beet kraut, most of the photos in this post will be of green cabbage. Just use your imagination and pretend that everything is a healthy shade of purple.

How To Make It

1. Remove outside leaves of the cabbage (approx. 5-6 leaves) and set aside for later.
2. Chop rest of cabbage into thin ribbons and place into large mixing bowl.
3. Shred beets using the grating blade on a food processor (easiest) or using a cheese grater (good luck!). Add to cabbage in large mixing bowl.
4. Add sea salt and caraway seeds to mixing bowl, and use your (gloved) hands to coat kraut well. Dr. Obvious Warns: Beets will stain your hands, countertops, and anything else if given the chance. Use caution and try not to touch with your bare hands! (Also: do not wear a white shirt while making this recipe!)
5. Once kraut mixture has been well coated with salt and caraway, use your gloved hands to stuff it, bit by bit, into your mason jars. Add a small layer of kraut and then use the handle of the wooden spoon to pound the air out of the layer before adding more cabbage to the jar. You want to make the mixture as anaerobic (air-free) as possible to avoid mould and to allow the friendly bacteria to flourish.
6. Continue adding kraut mixture to the jar, layer by layer, pounding out excess air throughout, until there is between 1 and 2 inches of free space left near the mouth of your jar.
7. Roll outside leaves of the cabbage into tight, burrito-style rolls and stuff on top of the shredded kraut mixture. The aim is to pack the jar as tightly as possible, right up to the top with the rolled outer leaves.
8. Slowly add filtered water to the jar, until it levels with the shredded kraut mixture (not all the way up to the top of the jar). Unless your jar is very large (or you didn’t pack enough air out of the mixture), you will need very little water in your jar. A half a cup is a generous amount– I usually use more like 1/4 cup water or less.
9. Slide the lid onto your mason jar and close it to make an airtight seal.
10. Label your jar with the date, and leave it in a dark cupboard to ferment for between 4 days (warmer climates) and 4 weeks (cooler climates). Kraut does best in a room temperature environment, and cooler locales will take longer to ferment.
11. When kraut is ready to consume, break airtight seal on jar, discard outer cabbage leaves, and fork as much cabbage onto your plate as you desire. (I eat between ½ cup and 1 cup of kraut every single day, with any type of meal—except breakfast.)
12. Store opened jars of kraut in the fridge and consume within 2 months.

Chopping. Some like it thin, some like it coarse.

Kraut layer, pre-pounding.

Packed-in shredded cabbage leaves, waiting for burrito-style outer leaves to finish off the jar.

Special Notes:

If your kraut develops a black mould or film on the top of the jar while it is fermenting, believe it or not, the rest of the jar should be okay to eat. (The mould will develop where there are still air bubbles.) Simply pick off the mouldy bits and chow down on the kraut further down the jar… using your common sense, of course.

Kraut can sit in a cupboard fermenting for longer than 4 weeks, too. Longer sitting periods make for a tangier kraut in the end. Do not fear the healthy bacteria!

Fermented kraut will taste zesty, a bit salty, and almost like a pickle (i.e. vinegar-y). It is an acquired taste (at least it was for me), but once you get familiar with it, you may find yourself shoveling it back with no restraint whatsoever (at least I did/still do).

Use organic ingredients, the highest quality of sea salt you can afford (not iodized or table salt), and filtered/distilled water (not tap water). Table salt and/or tap water can disrupt the naturally occurring enzymes and living cultures inside the cabbage, making your kraut-making adventures a waste of time, ingredients, energy, and money.

Everything is ready to go!

Variations on the theme:

Make kraut with red or green cabbage (or both)

Use caraway seeds or not. Try adding dill, fennel seeds, dried sea weeds, shredded ginger root, etc. Make the kraut yours!

Sub shredded carrots or golden beets for the red beets, or just go with a simple cabbage mixture.

Some people use special sauerkraut crocks, but all you really need is a glass jar with a tight-fitting lid.

Questions? Holler at me! I’m determined to convert the whole of North America to raw kraut eating, so if anything needs to be clarified or elaborated upon, just let me know. Otherwise, enjoy your Royal Kraut! It’s so good… and good for you. xo

Evolution, Revisited

It all started with a sign—a literal sign on the wall, not some encrypted message from the cosmos (as much as I love those slippery types of universal signals).

Sort of like this, only less digital and GPS-y. (Photo taken somewhere along the Washingston state coast line.)

There I was in a downtown Starbucks, waiting at the end of a messy countertop for the barista to call my name. I was regretting my impulsive decision to try a piece of their banana bread (which was terrible) and feeling even more guilty about my calculated resolution to toss it—barely nibbled—in the garbage can when I saw it: a picture of corn tacked up on the Community Message Board.

Also sort of like this, only with corn. (Photo taken in beautiful San Francisco.)

Inexplicably enchanted by this black and white photo of rustic maize ears, I examined the poster more closely and peered at the logo in the bottom corner. A school? Could it be true? Was this really a possibility? My heart began to flutter and chirp with excitement, much to the chagrin of my less-than-impressed Rational Mind. “Remember, Dana—this is corn we are looking at”, it sniffed haughtily, while my heart did interpretive dances and gleeful cartwheels all the same. At that moment, an approximation of my name broke through my trance as it rang out from the end of the messy countertop. I took my Vanilla Rooibos tea from the barista and headed back to the Harbour without giving another thought to that sign.

A few weeks later, a subtle stirring in my heart prompted me to my laptop, where I Googled the logo I had seen on the poster: Pacific Rim College. There, I discovered their Holistic Nutrition Program. I was gripped with an overwhelming sense of curiosity. My heart and head wrestled with each other as I scrolled through the course descriptions and program information, each of them vying for the prize of my attention and, of course, my ultimate confidence.

*****

Heart: Look at this! A whole course in Ayurvedic Medicine! And several courses in Holistic Cooking! OMG OMG OMG!!! [general rejoicing and celebrating]

Head: [non-plussed] Please. Give me a break! Dana—Listen to me. Why would you ever want to go back to school? You’ve already done six years and two degrees at university. And you became a horrible shadow of yourself while you were completing your Master’s Degree. Isn’t that enough? [figurative arms crossed in defiance]

Heart: [undeterred] But check this out! Herbal Medicine courses! Student clinics! An entire course on vegetarianism and veganism! This is totally up our alley!

Head: Seriously, Heart? Grow up already. It’s too risky. And how much does it cost?

Heart: [suddenly deflated] Oh. It’s a three year program and costs around $27,000. Never mind. You win, Head. I hate you.

*****

Knowing that the Holistic Nutrition program would eat three years out of my lifetime and cause significant damage to my sensitive financial landscape (“New Lawn: Please Keep Off”), I shelved the idea of becoming a Holistic Nutritionist in my “If I Ever Win the Lottery” file and kept on keeping on at the harbour. Oh, well.

A visual representation of my delicate financial landscape.

My heart is a pretty sneaky bastard, though, so one day I found myself “casually” mentioning the program to Marty. It was the first time I had ever given an out-loud voice to this crazy notion, and as soon as I “nonchalantly” told him about this program, I experienced a surge of adrenaline chorusing through my body. HOLISTIC NUTRITION, YES!! (Picture choirs of angels, cherubs, and silver-lined clouds.) As if on cue, my Rational Mind muscled its way into the situation and immediately took control:

*****

Head: Yeah, love. I found this program on the internet that costs $27,000. [significant pause for effect] There are no scholarships or bursaries available, so I’d have to pay for the whole thing out of pocket. [pursed lips, pause] Or I could take out $30,000 worth of student loans… you know, with textbooks and all. [sideways glance] And it would take 3 years to complete. But other than that, it looks okay.

*****

Rainbow veggie sushi roll… A random photo, yes, but why not?

The world stood still as I waited for Marty’s response. I didn’t dare breathe, lest my exhalation sway his thoughts out of my favour. After what seemed like ages but was probably more like 3 seconds, Marty expressed unwavering support. To my great relief, he confessed his suspicions that I would want to go back to school for something, eventually, and he was interested in seeing me pursue the holistic pathway, even if we had to budget and scrimp to our teeth to make it happen.

*****

Heart: Haha! TRUE LOVE CONQUERS ALL! Woot woot!

Head: I have irrationally strong thoughts of anger and resentment toward you, Heart.

*****

A visual representation of how it felt to have Marty support my wacky, going-back-to-school idea.

Since then, I have looked into a number of different Holistic Nutrition programs, ranging from 11-month courses in Vancouver to 18-month options in San Diego. (I ended up nixing the 3-year course at Pacific Rim pretty early on, once I discovered that 2012 was the inaugural year of their program, that there were still significant vacancies in their teaching staff, and that most other schools offer similar graduating credentials after only 1 year of study.) Every school offers a slightly different spin on the generic “Holistic Health” foundation, but I used a killer combo of heart-driven intuition and head-driven logistics to narrow the choices down.

My final two contestants (say in Chris Harrison, Bachelor-style voice) were both located in Vancouver—the Big-To-Me-City. Both options take 11 months to complete, and both of them have similar course profiles. I was in Vancouver during Marty’s aforementioned Artist Residency, and I used the opportunity to visit both of the schools on site and to let my gut make the final decision. I visited one of the schools on a Monday and felt alright. I noticed that my Rational Mind was doing a lot of the talking, though: “I could make this work”, “It seems decent enough”, “The owner seems professional”. The next day, I visited the other school and experienced a full-body explosion of joy! My heart was about to explode with ecstasy, and even my stodgy Rational Mind got in on the excitement. “What a great instructor!”, “I see myself belonging here!”, “This course seems so comprehensive!”

How it felt when I visited the second school. Starfish jump!! (Photo taken– obviously– on historic Route 66, California leg)

Ultimately, there was no contest between the two institutions– one of them gave me a tentative feeling of ‘meh?’ (not even a definitive ‘meh’.) and the other one felt like I had come home. (Even saying that ‘coming home’ part to my mom got me all choked up, so I took it as a good sign.) That’s my big news, though (sorry for the month wait): I am going to go back to school! And I’m going to pursue certification as a Holistic Nutritionist!

In case you were wondering, the tunnel to heaven is located in Port Townsend, WA. You’re welcome!

I don’t know why this new direction in life came as such a shock to me—me who has more photos of salad than of scenery; me who fawns over beets and has an ongoing love affair with quinoa; me who can’t resist buying bundles of rainbow carrots whenever I see them (and who exclaims “How beautiful!” every single time I slice open a purple one lengthwise); me who has relished every aspect of our Elimination Diet, including the initial food restrictions and even my pesky food sensitivities!; me who loves to cook and make everything from scratch; me who converted to the Cult of Raw Kraut and is now actively recruiting new members; me who bemoans getting off track every harbour season but is determined to fit in my ‘off-season jeans’ every autumn. My passion for whole foods is fairly obvious when I think about it this way, but who knew I would flip the switch of passion and consider turning it into a career? I think I know what I want to be when I grow up now, and I couldn’t be happier! 🙂

A few of my favourite things: lighthouses and homemade (garlic-free) guacamole. Heaven! (Photo taken along the Oregon coastline.)

Obviously, I wasn’t going to publish this post without including a photo of kale. Who do you think I am?

Elimination Diets: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Can you believe that Marty and I have been on our new eating regime since November 4th? We’ve now achieved six weeks of cleanliness/godliness, at least when it comes to the food that we’re putting into our bodies. Six weeks already!  Time sure flies when you’re eating salad. Heh. 😉

Somewhere over the rainbow chard

Maybe I’m a bit of a masochist, or maybe I thrive on control over nitpicky details, but I’ve been loving this experience. Absolutely loving it. (It could also be that I’ve gone six weeks now without uncomfortable GI issues, whereas before I’d be lucky to go six hours. Amazing what a healthy gut can do for a girl’s spirit.)

Anyway. I’ve been getting secretive e-mails and furtive messages asking not only how things are going, but also why we started this newfangled way of eating in the first place and how we put the program into motion. I’m not sure why some people seem to be so hush-hush when it comes to talking about bodies and eating, but rest assured: I have no qualms dishing the dirt on my digestion. Be warned, colon– none of your secrets are safe with me anymore. (What did you expect, though? I used to get paid to talk about ovulation and menstruation all day long. (<–Best. Job. Ever, by the way.) Nothing is sacred!)

Brussels sprouts get such a bad rap

First up: What the eff is an elimination diet?

It sounds complicated, but really, it’s not so bad. Elimination diets involve taking known or suspected food allergens out of the diet for a period of 2 to 12 weeks. Once the initial ‘elimination’ phase is complete, the foods that were removed are re-introduced into the diet one at a time to see if they cause any adverse effects. If negative side effects are experienced after a particular food is re-introduced, odds are good that the offending food should not be a regular part of the diet. However, if no symptoms are experienced after re-introduction, that particular food can be incorporated into the diet more regularly as the program moves forward.

Broccoli– one of my favourite vegetables, behind kale (obviously) and asparagus

How was our elimination diet structured?

Neither Marty nor I have true food allergies (i.e. anaphylactic reactions), and most of our food sensitivities fall in the mild to moderate range. Hence, we were able to stick to a 2-week window for the elimination phase of the program. People whose sensitivities are more severe or widespread usually have to eliminate all suspected allergens for a longer period of time, especially because some of them (gluten, dairy) seem to linger inside the body for 8-12 weeks after they are last consumed.

Under the guidance of a naturopath, Marty and I resolved to eliminate the main culprits from our diet: alcohol, animal products (including all meats, dairy, eggs, and fish), gluten, corn, processed/refined sugar, peanuts, and soy. (Obviously, we already avoided some of those foods as a personal choice, but those are the Big Seven ingredients that get recommended for elimination.)

Getting a salad prepped

Because Marty and I are also experiencing the joy and ecstasy known as candida overgrowth, the list of eliminated foods in our program grew to encompass yeasts, vinegars, tropical and citrus fruits (except lemons), and fungi/mushrooms. (Medicinal and wild mushrooms such as shiitakes are fine to consume.) Finally, to add the figurative cherry on top, we decided to eliminate the foods that raised the biggest red flags during our food sensitivity tests. For Marty, this meant taking out onions, garlic, ginger, millet, chickpeas, celery, potatoes, and cayenne pepper. For me, it was oats, lemons, onions, garlic, artichoke, potato, and leeks. If it sounds like a lot of foods to eliminate all at once, it was.

So what the eff could we eat during the elimination phase?

We got that question a lot, whether it was from friends concerned that our bodies would suddenly shrivel up and float away like wisps of smoke, or from, say, Marty’s parents, who wondered what on earth kind of dry goods they could stockpile on our behalf for the impending End of the World. (<– Hypothetical example, obviously.) The truth is, there were still tons of foods to choose from. I never went hungry and actually rose up to the occasion and created some pretty decadent meals, if I do say so myself (recipes to follow in future posts). Some of our staple foods during the elimination phase included:

Marty: oats; small amounts of berries (1/2 cup-ish per day); gluten free grains (brown rice, quinoa, buckwheat, amaranth); avocado; basically every vegetable under the sun except onions, celery, potato, and corn; sprouts; nuts and seeds; nut butters; rice crackers; GF pastas (brown rice, buckwheat, quinoa); puffed rice or quinoa cereals; cacao powder; black beans; kidney beans; herbal tea; herbs & spices; manuka honey

Me:   almost the same as Marty, plus millet and minus manuka honey, oats, and berries. Being the martyr that I am, I have been doing zero fruit and zero sweeteners for these six weeks, because I am crazy sensitive to them and seem to develop yeast infections simply by looking at pineapples or grapes. (Not that you needed to know that, but like I said– I know no shame.)

We’ve also been eating raw sauerkraut. Tons and tons of homemade, fermented kraut— every single day for lunch and usually for dinner, too. I can’t eat enough of it lately, so our pantries are fully stocked with jars of cabbage in various stages of fermentation. Pure class, I know.

More rainbow chard. Just because.

 How does the re-introduction part work?

After the first two weeks of elimination were complete, we started up a nifty schedule for bringing the Usual Suspect foods back into our diets. Basically, when we’re ‘challenging’ an ingredient, we eat as much of it as we can for a day, then we go back to the elimination foods for two days following that test. If we experience any ill effects on the day an ingredient comes back into rotation, or during the two days that follow that, that ingredient fails. If no adverse reactions are noted (bloating, indigestion, headaches, itchiness, etc.), that ingredient can come back in full swing starting on Day 4 (i.e. the day of the next challenging ingredient.)

In sum: ingredients are tested on Day 1, 4, 7, 10, etc. until all of your suspected allergens have taken a turn. On Days 2-3, 5-6, 8-9, 11-12, etc. the regular allergen-free (elimination) foods are eaten.

And? How did we do?

In short, I am a failure. I only ‘passed’ three out of nine ingredients, which is remarkably unfamiliar territory for this Honors Student. Marty didn’t fare much better, failing five of his nine total ingredients. We are going to be re-testing some of the failed ingredients starting in early 2013, under the auspices that we “didn’t test them right” the first time around. (In reality, though, we’re in denial that foods like garlic and potatoes will be Forbidden to us forever more. Seriously– potatoes??) I managed to pass with lemons, corn, and artichokes, and Marty passed gluten, onions, ginger, and cayenne pepper.

Thank you, Jesus, for letting me pass lemons

What’s next?

Unfortunately, the holidays are smack dab in the middle of this process. Originally, we were going to finish up with the re-introduction phase and then launch right into a candida cleanse (with supplements), but traveling to Calgary via Greyhound bus for Christmas will put a hefty wrench into those plans. (As will the possible end of the world, mind you.) Instead, we’re just going to stick with the elimination diet phase for longer than is really necessary and start tweaking the ingredients/anti-fungal supplements again when we get back to Victoria. Candida diets take anywhere from 3 to 9 months to complete, depending on the severity of yeast overgrowth (and on how much you ‘cheat’ with foods that do nothing but feed the candida and cause it to multiply.) Sounds like great fun, I know.

We’ll see. I’m totally cool eating the way we’re eating now for as long as possible, but I’m also thinking ahead and trying to be realistic. We’ve got Christmas in Calgary, traveling in the new year, and then the Harbour season approaching right after that, so a superhuman candida cleanse might not be possible. That’s okay. If we can gently and gradually move our bodies closer to a state of alkalinity (and maybe coax some of those yeasties out of our guts in the process), I’d say we’re doing a fine job as is.

Need more details?

I know this post is super long already, but in case you were interested in some nitty gritty details, here they are:

– My rosacea is not as bad as it was before, but slight flushing of the cheeks is still there

– Weight is down 10 lbs since 6 weeks ago

– I’m not exercising nearly as much as I’d like to. Brisk walks every other day; gym once a week if I’m lucky

– I can’t smell yeast on my own skin anymore like I used to (gross!), so I take that as a great sign

– Once again, thank god I passed lemons. I make a garlic/onion-free guacamole nearly every 2nd day and smear it on just about everything. Lemons would have been the saddest food to give up forever.

Bonus bald eagle shot for sticking through this entire post!

Starting from Scratch

Dear me, readers! We have got a ton of catching up to do. The last time we met, I was heading over to an integrative clinic to be tested for food sensitivities. I was feeling bummed about my newly discovered rosacea but also felt cautiously optimistic that a food sensitivity test would help unravel most of the mysteries of the universe for me…or at least indicate which foods I should be avoiding to maintain optimal health.

That’s not my cake, by the way. That’s the cheesecake that Marty bought himself on my birthday. I wasn’t able to indulge in anything sweet by then, and Marty has since left the dairy train as well.

Of course, because I had hoped and prayed beforehand that oats would not show up as a red flag on the test, guess which food I tested the worst, by far for? Yes, readers– you guessed it: rolled stinking oats. Other foods that came up in the “Probably Avoid” category included: garlic, onions, lemons (NOOOOOO!!), yeast, artichokes, potatoes, leeks, and– strangely enough– lettuce. (Honestly. Who on earth reacts to something as innocuous as lettuce? Only the cool kids, dear readers: only the cool kids.)

Vowing to adhere to the test recommendations, I promptly cut out all of those foods from my diet. I’m not going to lie– it was difficult, especially because we were in the height of harbour season and even the organic, vegan takeout place that we normally frequent in the summer has onions and garlic in basically everything. I stuck to it, though, crafting salads out of kale or spinach and dousing them in a makeshift apple cider vinaigrette, drinking green smoothies for breakfast every morning (the one main component of the Beauty Detox Solution that I was still able to maintain), and requesting onion-free options whenever we had to stoop low and order a dinner from the Noodle Box.

My skin slowly improved but was still a long way from clearing up completely before Labour Day hit. I did pretty well over the Labour Day weekend, food-wise, but then the stress of the whole summer collapsed on me. Before I knew it, Marty and I were declaring it our first day off after 51 straight days at work (!!), and we were riding our bikes 25km to the famed Butchart Gardens.

So what, I haven’t ridden longer than 5km for half a year? Let’s do this 50km round-trip ride!

En route to the Gardens, we stopped at the Red Barn Market, where I ordered a sandwich. My first slices of bread in nearly 2 months.

No condiments, mostly veg, but omg! There are two pieces of bread on that there sandwich!!

Emboldened by my bread-eating bad-assery, I ordered a whole apple pie on the way back and downed about a third of it before hauling myself back on the bike saddle and riding the rest of the way home. I know. I never would have thought that marble rye bread was a gateway drug, but there you have it. I suddenly– and unceremoniously– fell off that Holistic Health bandwagon hard.

At least the Gardens were beautiful

September and October were blurs of eating anything and everything I could get my hands on. I rationalized. A lot. I was craving something warm and satiating for breakfast, so I cooked up big pots of rolled oats every morning. They can’t be *that* bad for me; after all, they’re gluten free! I started making thick soups and stews using onions, garlic, and potatoes. Maybe the test was wrong! I ate a lot of cookies. What! Nobody’s perfect! Then, those brutal candida devils multiplied en masse in my gut  and  started rearing their ugly heads. My body became a living warzone, with my mind trying in desperation to resist incredible cravings for sweets, starches, and breads but my body roaring “FEED ME SUGAR!!” with startling ferocity.

Recently, I took a simple, at-home saliva test for candida overgrowth, and when I failed it with remarkable speed and efficiency,  I knew what I had to do.

Not at our recent art exhibition, but notice the cutesy (or sickening/nauseating) matching outfits. Pink and brown couple for the win!

Obviously, I waited until after our art exhibition had opened, and then Marty and I embarked on an elimination diet together. We eliminated soy, dairy (him), corn, gluten, processed sugars, fruit (me), eggs, yeast, and all of the foods that tested high on our sensitivity tests. For two weeks, we will eat a clean diet and then will start introducing items back into our diets  individually to see if we show any adverse effects. So far, we’ve done a week, and I’m definitely noticing a positive difference.

I’m trying to keep our meals really simple, but what’s struck me at this point is how much I usually rely on Bragg’s Liquid Aminos (soy) to season our foods. I’m literally lost without it. There have been no soups to speak of lately, mainly because I can’t figure out how to make them (as) delicious without a base of onions and garlic, and I also haven’t been eating any cold salads for this 2-week period. I usually make my salad dressings with lemon (out), Bragg’s (out), and apple cider vinegar (out for Marty), so I’ll have to wait until we challenge those foods to see whether salads will come back into regular rotation.

Mostly, I’m ready to feel like myself again, and if an elimination diet will help me get there, so be it. What about you, dear readers: Have you ever done an elimination diet? Any suggestions or tips? Is there a particular food that you’d be lost without?