heartyspoonful: February 2016

Loaded Tempeh Sandwich

"All sorrows are less with bread."

- Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

For a very long time, fueled by a nasty eating disorder, I avoided many sources of carbs. Like potatoes. My beloved French fries simply became a thing of the past. Bread a big no-no. How I craved a good slice of bread. Pasta always made me cry. My mother would cook a delicious vegan pasta dish and I would have a few forkfuls and pretend to eat bowls after bowls. I threw away a lot of food. My conscience was suffering from anxiety and was rather racked by guilt, but that voice in my head that repeatedly told me that I was fat was much stronger.

One day, on a chilly morning in Amsterdam, I noticed a few locals caring freshly baked bread. There were huge smiles plastered on their porcelain-like faces. I was jealous. I begin to think, “Wow, really? So a happy face like that can be caused by bread?” The smell of freshly baked bread also filled the morning air. It was delicious. You know when you crave something so bad your head just turns into a void? You can’t really think of anything, can’t feel anything. It’s like your sole purpose in life is to attain whatever you desire. It was like that, what I felt for a delicious piece of bread that one Dutch morning. I was still suffering from disordered eating at that point, but God, did I want to eat some wheat concoction. I headed to an organic market (that just magically appeared in front of me, I must say) and there was a choir of angels when I finally saw the fantastical bread aisle. Like a kid in a candy shop, I loaded my basket with different types of bread. Mind you, I was travelling alone. I could’ve fed a family of 6 with the bread that I bought that day. It wasn’t just hunger I felt that day. Not just physically. It was an emotional kind of hunger, my soul needed bread. It was symbolic, at least to me. I rushed home right after I paid. I started to pinch a thick piece of spelt bread on my walk back to my flat. I probably finished a quarter of it. I took my time when I got home. I was just smelling the air in my bright kitchen. The sunlight made everything look like a dream and the fresh baked bread smell wafted in the air. It was love, to be honest. For breakfast, I had a raisin cinnamon bun. I think on my week stay in Amsterdam, I consumed 6 of those. I was lucky enough to always buy them warm, freshly out of the oven. The baker started to call me “Bun Girl” because I was there every morning, buying the exact same thing. I’d like to pretend she called me Bond Girl, but I’ll settle for what I really was: Bun Girl.

My next stop during that trip was Paris. And my love affair with bread continues. I bought myself delicious fig bread that I had for dinner, sitting by the Seine and drinking wine. As you do, you know. I would find a seat at Les Tuileries, read a book and munch on bread and hummus. It was la vie en rose for me. Maybe it was an effect of being on vacation, but all the negative thoughts were gone. I didn’t die. I didn’t hate myself for eating bread. I was breathing. I was strolling everywhere. I didn’t think I was a fat elephant.

When I got back to Canada, I was really scared all the nasty thoughts about bread would reemerge. But they didn’t. I didn’t eat that much bread though, to be honest, but I think that’s just because I preferred bread from overseas better (don’t stone me, my dear Canadians). I have sandwiches a few times a week. I don’t shy away from bread. If a restaurant offers a bread basket, sign me right up. I’ll have the vegan burger, please. Pita bread, you say? Yes, please!

One of my favourite vegan spots in Montreal is Green Panther. It’s convenient, the food is tasty, but it’s comfort food, veganised. I’ve had the falafel pita (full size of course) many times. But then, one day, I decided to try their “tempeh-tation” pita. Oh my Lord, that was one heck of a sandwich. My taste buds were rejoicing. I was over the moon. Clearly, I found my new favourite sandwich.

Is it such a surprise then that I wanted to re-create something similar? The variations are endless. Just use your imagination!

Loaded Tempeh Sandwich

Ingredients:

1 block tempeh, sliced in rectangular strips
Tomato, sliced
Avocado, mashed (if preferred)
Hummus of choice
Lettuce, chopped
Organic ketchup
Sriracha
Sauerkraut (optional)
Bread of choice

Bake tempeh as desired. I like to bake it as is with coconut oil.

Toast bread as desired. I had some English muffins at home so I made do with them.

Assemble sandwich as desired. I spread hummus on two pieces of bread. Then, I top one with tomato, sauerkraut and tempeh. The other one, I add the tomato, lettuce and mashed avocado plus condiments.

Enjoy! xx

13:10
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Books I've Read (Part 2)

book review

"I cannot sleep unless I am surrounded by books."

- Jorge Luis Borges

I can hear the wind howling outside, tapping my windows as if to say, "Stay comfy indoors, it's a wild party out here." Keeping warm with thick knit socks and a big comforter wrapped around me, I think it's time to write another post about books I've read, loved and questioned. Let's do this.

What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami

I started to run when I was a teenager. It just happened one afternoon. I decided to run. Just like that. I remember the difficulty breathing, shortness of breath, the feeling of wanting to fall flat on my face. The first few runs were so difficult, but I loved the feeling of having a clear mind right after. I didn't know much about running then to be honest. I didn't stretch afterwards properly, I didn't pace myself. I was just running for the heck of it. Boy, when my knees started to hurt, I knew I better read up.

You see, Haruki Murakami's book isn't necessarily your typical running book. Murakami doesn't exactly give you advice on how to run. Rather, he paints this beautiful picture of his experience as a runner throughout the years. His writing is simply dreamy. I couldn't put this book down and when I did, it was mostly because I wanted to go for a run. I appreciated the parallels he described between writing and running, how his experience of these two activities were interlinked. Think about it. sometimes you run to clear your mind so you can write. Sometimes, you write and then your brain tells you it's time to do something else. What better way than to stretch your legs?

I wish to have a colourful running history as Murakami. I particularly loved his storytelling of all the runs that failed, his successes and everything else in between. A must-read for anyone who loves to run, to write or simply who loves the creations of Murakami.

Dear knees, don't fail me just yet.

What I Was Doing While You Were Breeding: A Memoir by Kristin Newman

Let's just say that 2015 was a year of memoir reading and soul-searching (to continue this 2016, to be sure). A few friends have gotten married or engaged, moved in together with their partners. And there I was (and still am), single to no end. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining that I'm not in a relationship, I simply make the most of it. (But you, man with green eyes, why do we ignore each other?)

I found this book one night, a brilliant stroke of luck. I was planning to purchase another book, but instead, the title of this book caught my eye. I'm glad I purchased it instead! Kristin Newman recounts her relationships or lack thereof, of her career struggles and then success, of all her travels as a single woman and then, finally, of falling in love with a man who made her want to stay put. Her honesty and wit are refreshing, as if I can hear her laughter. Her stories are also something else! They make my solo travels very tame and boring. Maybe Argentina and Brazil should be my next stop.

It's not exactly validity, but reading about another person's experience that, in general, resonates to my own is a breath of fresh air. If you're single and just trying to live your life to the fullest, in the most colourful way possible, please, do yourself a favour and read this book. It's one heck of a turbulent plane ride, but with the view of the brightest rainbow.

Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay

Did I always call myself a feminist? No. Did I even know what a feminist was growing up? No, not really. Did I feel as if there's inequality between the sexes that favoured one over the other in most cases? Yes, absolutely.

Feminism is essential. I'll keep it simple as that. Anyone who dismisses the need for feminism in today's world needs to be educated. Really. A good way to start would be by reading Roxane Gay's collection of essays. These essays are funny, witty and smart. Her voice is loud and clear, but not forceful. I appreciated that she made the essays personal, not generalising. This is an account of her feminist experience, from when she was a young girl learning about the world to now, as a woman. The range of her essays' subjects vary greatly to a wonderful effect. I particularly loved that she touched upon subjects that have been newsworthy (for example, the continuous debate whether abortion should be legalised). She weaves her stories to indicate the woman she has become, all the paradox that comes with it. I'm sure you'll read some of these essays and go, "Oh, that's totally me!"

I cannot recommend this book more than I already do. It's a wonderful and insightful read. No judgments. Just plain truth of someone who thinks of herself as a "bad feminist." But then again, the only bad thing is to deny feminism.

How to Be Parisian Wherever You Are by Anne Berest, Audrey Diwan, Caroline de Maigret and Sophie Mas

Confession: I have a cheesy love for anything involving Paris and Parisians. Just like Audrey Hepburn, I also think Paris is always a good idea. Look, the history of Paris has been rocky and romanticised, but you cannot deny the beauty that lies there still. All the opportunities. All the secrets. The je ne sais quoi that lies in street corners, waiting for you to discover the offerings of this magical city.

When this book first came out, my reaction was, "God, no, not another one." After a few weeks, however, I purchased a copy (because it was on sale) and I bit my tongue. This book is uncannily funny! Hilarious! That little story about first dates and ordering at a restaurant made me laugh so much. There are truths. There are also, at least I think, bits and pieces that we generalise as Parisien, but that I highly doubt always apply. But you see, isn't that the charm of Paris? The idea that all Parisiens are this chic? Mais, oui, oui. It's a book to take lightly, but I do think it's written beautifully. I just feel a little cooler. Just a bit.

So, if you dream of Paris or at least to unleash the Parisienne in you, grab this book and read away. Put on a shirt and light perfume, moisturise and choose the red lipstick, and you're good to go.

Au revoir !