Corn Cakes: The Real Way to Win Friends and Influence People

This goes without saying, but I’m going to say it anyway: I am a huge nerd in the kitchen. Like, drastically nerdy. I am delighted by the most trivial of culinary things and experience big, swelling happiness over tiny details that (I’m guessing) most people don’t even notice. (Mason Jars, anyone?) I’m not your typical foodie, though. I don’t pore over glossy food magazines or experiment with complicated new recipes every week. Nah. I’d rather beam over a plate of simple steamed vegetables or marvel at ruby red grains of rice than I would hit up the trendiest new restaurant. Plus, I have a mile-long list of food sensitivities and a picky discerning palate, so it’s not very often that I can be wowed at a restaurant. I’m usually lucky if I can have one item (usually salad!) on any given menu, so Kitchen Nerdiness it is for me.

Exquisite!

Anyway. Why am I telling you this? I just want to remind you what a dork I am before I go on to tell you that THESE CORN CAKES ARE EFFING AMAZING! Sure, I’m totally impressed by these corn cakes and feel like a bit of a celebrity chef every time I make them, but maybe you ought to take that with a grain of (Pink Himalayan) salt. I think they’re cool, and I’m pretty certain my mom thinks they’re cool, too, but maybe you’re the type of person who needs more than a geeky, glowing recommendation for a recipe, especially when corn is concerned. That’s fine. All I’m saying is this: if you want to win friends and influence people at your next potluck or cocktail party, make these corn cakes. You’ll impress the hors d’ouevre police, you’ll win the hearts of your vegan and gluten-sensitive friends, you’ll probably win the “Most Delicious Item” award of the evening, and you’ll do it all while being deceptively delicious and healthy. Who knew corn could do all of this? I did. And now you do, too. Yer welcome.

It doesn’t get any better than this. Mmm… corn cakes!

Corn Cakes For the Masses!

(Recipe adapted from Christina’s original version at Fruit of Adventure here)

You Will Need:

• 4 cups water
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 2 Tbsp coconut oil (or other high quality cooking oil)
• 3/4 cup millet
• 1/4 cup organic polenta (corn grits)
• 1 medium leek, sliced into fine, short pieces
• 1 cup frozen organic corn kernels, thawed
• 2 heaping Tbsp fresh basil leaves, chopped (or 1 generous Tbsp dried basil)

How to Make Them:

1. Melt 1 Tbsp of coconut oil in frying pan and saute leeks over low to medium heat, until tender (about 5 minutes).

2. Meanwhile, in a medium saucepan, bring water to a boil. Add salt, 1 Tbsp coconut oil, and millet when water is boiling.

3. Slowly add polenta to the pot, stirring gently and continuously to avoid clumping.

4. Simmer millet and polenta on medium low heat (uncovered) for about 25 minutes, or until water is absorbed and millet mixture is sticky. Remove from heat.

5. Preheat oven to 350F and line a cookie sheet with parchment paper.

6. Add leeks, corn kernels, and basil leaves to millet mixture and stir well.

7. Use a measuring cup (1/4 cup to 1/3 cup) to form cakes with the millet mixture. (It helps to have a bowl of ice water at the ready to rinse measuring cup in between cakes. The cold temperature will help keep the mixture from sticking to the inside of the cup. Life-saving, really.)

8. Bake corn cakes for 25 minutes, or until they are slightly crisp/golden on the outside.

9. Serve with fresh guacamole* (and raw kraut, if you’re so inclined).

10. Prepare to amaze and astound your friends, dinner guests, work superiors, priest, etc. CORN WORKS WONDERS!

Corn cakes, pre-baking

*****

*… and if you’re wondering how in sam heck to make fresh guacamole, I do it in three minutes like so:

OMGuacamole

You Will Need:

• 1 medium to large ripe avocado, halved and flesh scooped out
• sea salt to taste
• red hot chili pepper flakes to taste
• lemon juice, 1-2 Tbsp (or to taste)
• handful of fresh cilantro leaves, washed and chopped

How To Make It:

1. Add all ingredients to a small bowl and smash with a fork. Done.

That’s it. And now you’ll be so savvy in the kitchen! You’ll wow EVERYONE!

Tiramisu for the Dairy-Free Queen

Oh, dear readers– I love me some Universal Magic! Remember when I first came across Leanne Vogel and her killer website? (If you’re wracking your brain and searching for clues, you might also remember this first encounter as The Guilty Peanut Butter Incident, in which I felt intimidated by Leanne’s ninja-like wizardry in her allergy-friendly kitchen. Yes! I just called Leanne both a ninja and a wizard. No wonder I got suckered into the “I’m Not Worthy!” trap. Never fear, though. I’ve since recovered and reclaimed my cool factor. I’m OK, she’s OK, and it’s all good. Promise!)

Anyway…

It’s been an honor and an absolute thrill to work with Leanne this winter, helping her share The Most Amazing Christmas Cookbook Ever with as vast a swath of the internet as we can manage. (I feel like the Christopher Columbus of the Internet lately– exploring uncharted waters, but now with less scurvy!) Who knew an awkward first website visit would morph into a lasting friendship and an exciting business experience? I feel like I’m in my very own sitcom here, Full House style. Happy endings for all! Thanks, Universe!

Back to the amazing cookbook, though. The e-book is called Christmas Dessert Freedom and features ten holiday classics made tastier, prettier, and more ninja-like than ever before. What’s Leanne’s secret? She’s banished all the dairy, gluten, grains, refined sugars, peanuts, corn, soy, and eggs from the recipes we’ve felt guilty about eating since the Dawn of Time.

Peppermint bark? Check!

Rum balls? They’re in there!

Shortbread cookies? Uh-huh!

Pecan bars? She’s on it!

Leanne has even managed to create a dairy-free, gluten-free, sugar-free version of tiramisu. I kid you not! (That recipe alone is worth the 10 buck cookbook cost. Seriously.)

Since I love a good challenge even more than I love this cookbook, I decided to attempt the Queen Recipe (tiramisu, obviously) to prove a couple of things:

1. Even a disaster-prone chef (like yours truly, ahem- almond milk mayhem! Cough, cough– sauerkraut carnage!) can create these recipes and have them turn out just fine.

2. You don’t need a mile-long list of alien ingredients to make the recipes in this book– even something even as intimidating-sounding as tiramisu.

3. You don’t even need all of the recommended kitchen appliances to make these recipes turn out right. I, for example, don’t have a stand mixer OR electric beaters. So there!

4. The recipes aren’t some half-assed shadows of the original, guilt-laced confections. They will still impress even the most skeptical of tastebuds.

So! Adventures in Tiramisu Making!

The full list of ingredients for the tiramisu includes cashews (I used almonds instead), non-dairy milk, coconut oil, coconut nectar, vanilla extract, lemon juice, apple cider vinegar, coconut milk, coffee, rum (optional but hello! IT’S CHRISTMAS!), cocoa powder, dark chocolate, coconut flour, and maple syrup. (Obviously, if you have an aversion to coconut, this is not the recipe for you. Same goes for people with nut allergies, though the e-book does contain 6 nut-free recipes, FYI.)

The assembly line in action!

Anyway. I started off by making a batch of Leanne’s Maple Shortbread cookies (recipe included in the e-book), and then I chilled some ingredients and mentally prepared to slave away in the kitchen all day. Let down alert: No slaving was necessary. The prep work for the recipe was surprisingly easy (even for me, who has a hard time making ice). You blend some of the ingredients together to make a “cashew cream” layer (almond cream layer in my case– I’m wicked allergic to cashews). You mix some of the other ingredients together to make a sinful “coconut cream” layer, and then you stack everything together in a loaf pan with the shortbread cookies and let it chill overnight. Seriously way less work than I was expecting. And the rewards?

Sheer decadence. And deliciousness. And divinity… and other great words that start with ‘d’.

This is Leanne’s photo, not mine.

I was worried because my can of coconut milk rendered a runnier “cream” than you would expect from the word “cream”. Leanne even had to give me a pep talk while my tiramisu was setting in the fridge, which consisted of the ever-encouraging words, “I hate to say it: but it may not turn out” AND the always-rousing phrase, “it may be a lost cause.” Ha. AND EVEN STILL: my batch turned out just fine. Delicious! Guilt-free! Impressive to my neighbors! Sure, it might not win any presentation awards from the judges on the Food Network, but tummies can’t tell the difference if the recipe still tastes delicious, right? My point exactly.

My tiramisu, collapsed on its side. DON’T LAUGH! It’s no Miss America in the looks department, granted, but hot damn, it’s DELICIOUS!

This cookbook is Leanne’s labor of love and her holiday gift to the world. It’s great for people who have special diets or a mile-long list of food sensitivities, and it’s great for the people who love them, too. It truly feels like the “Get Out of Jail Free” card of Christmas– a way to actually partake in the holiday festivities without feeling gross or guilty afterward. Christmas Dessert Freedom for the win!

Cookbook Particulars

• $10 USD per copy
• 10 revamped recipes of holiday classics (vegan, paleo, gluten-free, all-around miraculous!)
• 35 pages, full color PDF
• Totally effin’ incredible!

As the helper elf to Leanne’s Santa (or something…), I get to share in some holiday abundance for everyone who makes a cookbook purchase through the links in this post. In other words, I’ll get a few bucks if you decide to buy the Christmas Dessert Freedom cookbook based on this review of it. Don’t be fooled by my pathetic-looking tiramisu, either: IT TASTES GREAT. You know I wouldn’t even be involved in this project if it wasn’t totally awesome, let alone pimp it out on this here blog. I promise the cookbook is amazing. I promise you can impress your friends and family by making any/all of the recipes in the book. I promise you can become a Christmas ninja, too.*

*Actual ninja-ness may vary. Also, if you have super grinches for friends, their level of being impressed by your kitchen wizardry might vary, too. Jerks!

Your turn, dear readers: Is guilt a regular part of your typical holiday experience?

What’s your favourite holiday treat?     

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?