Emergency Scramble

I'll just jump right to it. I'm in a place where most food sounds just awful.
Or it will sound delicious till its in front of me, or till I'm three bites in, and then it sounds (smells, tastes) awful. This happens from time to time and its a major deal; either its the starting pistol for my eating disorder (ED), or its a red flag that lets me know ED is already up to some stuff. When its hard to get enough calories old muscle memories kick in; when my body and brain aren't being nourished my anxieties are impossible to reason with. This creates a neat little feed back loop that makes life tricky.

SO I'm an emergency scramble to find recipes that are pretty, fun, and easy. Deliciousness, of course, goes without saying, but like I mentioned above, my delicious radar is pretty fickle lately.

To be honest, in this Emergency Scramble to Head Off The Eating Disorder At The Pass, the operative word here is easy. Something that wont involve a lot of thought or effort. I'm basically tricking myself into eating. And that's okay. It isn't ideal, but its okay. We do what we have to do to start a positive spin on the snow ball.

Today I made tuna on toast and I'm going to tell you about that now.

My favorite brand is called Sustainable Seas; the 100% pole caught option is in a green can:-)
I fill my tuna with veggies, herbs, and olive oil. This makes it a much more robust mix; it will last you longer, and it really packs in the nourishment.

These are the ingredients I used.
2 whole green onions
1 celery stick
a freaking fist full of cilantro
a wedge of lime (could have used more but whatevs)
3 cloves of garlic (could have used more of this too.)
only a little bit of salt. That bowl is just for the picture.

Not pictured; chili powder and paprika. Feel free to add mayo, veganese, mustard, whatevs.

Those tomatoes will be place directly onto your toast. Once the toast has been achieved, drizzle some olive oil on it, then lay the tomato slices on. Now, while those three are getting acquainted, mix your veggies in with the two cans of tuna. Drizzle more olive oil; we're looking for good fats here to help our brain, our joints, our skin, everything basically.
Sprinkle on salt and seasonings AND BOOM

You have something amazing to eat at the window while you watch the cars.

There are endless variations on this old standby; my favorite involves the addition of black olives and pickles, swap out the paprika and chili powder of cayenne and dill. Slice up and avocado to smash in there and clutch your pearls, you've got a masterpiece.

Thank you, who ever you are, where ever you are, for reading.
-A.H.

Farmers market

The concrete was slick with rain. Yellow leaves shimmered from underneath my sneakers; golden, treasure, everything precious. I walked along the length of the southern park blocks, not fast; very slow. Crows dipped into my path, settling like a heavy foreshadowing just ahead. One even walked a few feet with me, keeping time with my steps. The sea gulls have come inland for the winter. They cry over head and pick at trash with the pigeons. However, hey don't seem to be too friendly with the Crows, who keep their distance.

I like going to the market when its been raining, everything is bright and vibrant and there are less people, traveling with my growing bag is easier.

A few feet before the entrance is a man who plays the trumpet, a sparse lonely, andante and sad. He once played in a mariachi band and the absence of the other instruments hangs heavy in the wet trees. He only has nickles in his cup. 

By now the trees have switched from Birch to mostly Maple, and the flaming foliage covers the grounds like a carpet, magnificent and priceless in value. Red, red orange, red yellow, even one whose red was advancing from the inside out, chasing the yellow out to the still green tips. Autumnal rainbow. I would have collected them and come home with an armload but I was worried a dog might have peed on them. So, I let them be.

Precisely at the entrance is a man selling The Street Beat. He's always there, today wearing a knit hat with a pom pom ontop because its turned cold. "Yet another high pressure sales pitch!" He always says, except for today. "The Koch brothers would buy this paper! Don't be like them! Get one on your way out!" I bought one then and there. He has a poem printed on page two. "I wrote it on my honeymoon" he said regretfully. 

I stop at the same three booths I always stop at. No samples for me today, I try not to do that every week. I bought a coffee, which was a mistake because its hard to juggle pounds of produce and a hot beverage on your own, but I wanted it and I'm read The Awakening by Kate Chopin and it felt appropriate to give into a whim. 

"Its the Babushkas!" He said as he ducked behind the second register, bearing coffee for his booth partner. We had been chatting while she tallied my burdock and carrots, and stopped to quickly survey each other, a moments hesitation before we saw he was teasing us with our scarves wrapped around our heads. Turns out we'd both lost our favorite beanies and had to make do in the chill. I walked home, warmed with coffee and the idea of me as a Babushka bearing produce, wearing grandpa pants.

I took this picture of myself with my produce bag, but it doesn't do the weight of it justice. Zoey, trying to devise a way onto the new plant shelf. I haven't taken a picture of myself using the timer in some months, which I feel explains my headlessness.

My bag was bursting with radishes, carrots, butternut squash (mmm soup forever) onions and more. So much more. I've been buying so many different squashes my cupboards are beginning to overflow. I still have a sweet meat (hate the name) to try, as well as a mystery one I bought from Persephone's booth at the recommendation of the dude in the Davy Crocket hat.


(This feels silly to be writing like this. I'm mostly just trying to remember. Remember what I saw, remember how, exactly to write. If these seems trite, or vain, or tired, I apologize. Don't tell me. I'll get better with more frequent use.)

-A.H.