Do You Like Green Eggs & (Hummus)?

I recently had the pleasure of reading a few books before bed with a very sweet 4 year old. As per her request, I was reading the well known Dr. Seuss book “Green Eggs and Ham”. As I flipped through each page using different voices for each character, and building the drama as the one cat persisted on multiple ways to eat green dairy and meat; I watched the little ones face staring into the book. It was as if she were thinking “I’d never eat this &$%@# even if the cat in the hat presented it to me himself on a silver platter from Dean and Deluca”. When I was finished I closed the book, turned to her and smiled, and delivered my “thee.end”. She slid the book out of my hands and replied “now, I’ll read it to you”. Keeping in mind that most girls at 4 years old are not capable of reading a Dr. Seuss book yet, I entertained the idea for her and handed it over. It was obvious that not only had she memorized the story, but that her other tactic was to study the illustration first before reading. It was so cute and funny I felt my face getting red, because I didn’t want to laugh out loud and make her feel embarrassed. “Do you like them….in the box? I do not like them in the box!”she acted out. I actually applauded when she was finished.


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I was reading Real Simple magazine when I came across a recipe for “green monster dip”. As an aside, I love this magazine. It seems everything I read in it always reminds me how uncomplicated things need to be. That’s why I like it. The recipe reminded me of my reading partner, and it reminded me of how any green food or beverage has always had to fight hard to be accepted. This green “monster” dip was for children. Written up as a fun way to incorporate more greens into a child’s diet, it is assumed that anything with “monster” in the title may win the hearts and taste buds of little boys and girls everywhere much easier than broccoli or basil.
Perhaps everyone needs to start thinking about green eggs and ham a little differently. We don’t really know the whole story. What if the eggs weren’t spoiled? What if the narrator just added spinach to them in the pan? Maybe the ham was glazed with pesto sauce. My friends, we live in a world now where we have learned for sure that green food equates to GOOD.

The “green monster dip” in reality, is green hummus. Hummus, an already healthy snack made mostly of chickpeas can be made even more nutritious with the addition of spinach, and the taste is still fantastic. Using whole ingredients including chick peas, fresh lemon juice, olive oil, and tahini; this recipe is easy and quick. When I was invited to my friend Lilias apartment for a night of chatter and sangria, I made the green hummus and brought it over with a couple of large carrot sticks.

Recipe: 4 cups tightly packed spinach, 1 can of chickpeas rinsed, 2 tablespoons each of fresh lemon juice, water, olive oil, and tahini. ½ tsp of salt, and 1 garlic clove.

Process all ingredients except the spinach first, and then add spinach one cup at a time until it reaches a puree. Enjoy with sliced fresh carrots, or other vegetables you see fit. Some of us may not have little monsters at home, but this recipe does the trick for monsters of all sizes.

(Remember, homemade hummus will spoil much quicker than your store bought hummus, but we know the real stuff is worth the shorter shelf life. It can last up to a week with lemon juice, but will taste its best in its first few days of life).

Bienvenidos a Honduras

It’s been almost two years since I had last been to Honduras, yet as soon as I land in the San Pedro Sula airport every little detail floods my brain. I remember where to buy a baleada (a Honduran style burrito), where to transfer my dollars into Lempira’s, and the familiar feeling of transporting village to village in a yellow school bus that blasts reggaeton music, with an armed security guard standing at the front. There are only two highways we use, and each turn to your right or left shows a dirt road. It is a mountainous country. No matter which way you look up you are staring at lush green mountains that parallel the 80 degree weather beautifully. There are times when you stop and stare and almost believe you are in a paradise. The rice and beans are delicious, the weather is perfect, and the romantic bachata music is playing loud from people’s homes at all hours of the day. When I am here I feel a particular kind of happiness. Ironically, I am saying this about a place where you cannot flush toilet paper because the plumbing system is too weak for it, where my stomach becomes my own worst enemy for my first days upon arriving and again when I return home; and where you need to brush your teeth with bottled water. My roommates and I couldn’t figure out how to make our shower hot until day four, and the fashion to sport seems to be monstrous bug bites taking over your extremities with dirt to connect the dots. Nevertheless, there is beauty in Honduras. It is a country with beautiful, kind people who are more hospitable than a Hilton.
The Washington Post reported this winter how San Pedro Sula (a nearby city from our work) has the highest homicide rate per capita in the world, and the Peace Corps recently withdrew all 150 of their volunteers from Honduras. With so much negative press, I have had friends and family look at me as if I am insane for making a return trip there. I think it is important to be honest of the challenges that are occurring around the world, but in being honest I have a lot of good things to say about this country, and all the good that is happening there. I am so thankful for the love I get to experience when I am in this remarkable country, and this trip certainly was not my last. Tonight I will share with you a few of the moments that changed me, as travel of any kind always does.

I’m here to build a school in a village called La Primavera. The school I am working on serves 300 children currently with just 3 classrooms. The overflow of students study outside, but when a Central American rain storm rolls in, class is cancelled. Attendance drops significantly when it rains. When you have the ability to read and write, your potential for learning is immeasurable, and has no limit. This being said, I believe there is real importance in being there and working on this project. There is no child on earth that does not deserve an education, and a universal primary education is one very important step in breaking cycles of poverty, feelings of helplessness, and the trend of resorting to terrorism and gangs for security.

(the site of three future classrooms).



It is Monday morning. Construction in Honduras is specific. We don’t wait for the cement truck to roll in and dump it over our site. We make the cement ourselves. After it is mixed we shovel the cement into buckets where we then move them over to the site for brick laying. I have been working for less than 10 minutes and the sweat is dripping down my back. The buckets are heavy, it is hot outside, and no cardio class at the gym could prepare me for this type of muscle soreness. Just when I think I need to sit down and sip some water; a child no older than 10 years old grabs my bucket from me, and runs it to the men standing by the bricks. He stares at me, and tells me to "move faster!" with a smile on his face. “I’m pathetic” I think to myself, while catching my breath. Like this boy, the children show up throughout the day to help. They are not wearing work gloves like us volunteers are, and most aren’t wearing shoes. Barefoot, they are running buckets back and forth and taking shovels to assist in moving the piles of sand. The unprompted dedication to having an environment conducive to learning is admirable. They want a school, and most of them probably figure they'll have to build it themselves based on my shortness of breath. When the children out-did me in work, I liked to hold my hand up like a typical American and say "dame cinco!" or, "gimme 5!". Cheesy, perhaps, but the kids would smack my hand and smile and that made me feel for a moment that we spoke the same language.
Finally, a breeze rolls through. I am standing at the top of a sand pile. I drop my shovel, look up to the sky and close my eyes to take it in. “ah” I say, “breeze”.

................“Ahhh... breeze!” I hear. I open my eyes and look to my right. I have a child by my side. He is ten years old and his name is Jason. He is now too looking towards the sky, eyes closed, taking in the breeze. He copies my English words, and we share a laugh over it. Although Jason won all of the volunteers hearts this week, he didn't earn too many points when he called me "abuelita" (grandmother) after finding out I was 26 years old. I suppose it was a subconscious decision of mine when I returned home to NY that I purchased my first anti wrinkle cream ever. Later that day Jason helped me lay bricks, but we stopped frequently in order to have pretend sword fights with our cement tools. Jasons home is adjacent to the school site, his backyard lining up with the wall that surrounds the school. Every morning when we arrived at the work site, Jason would be standing on his roof waiting for our arrival. "Jessss-i-caaaa!" he yelled (with big hand waves). "Hola!" myself and the other volunteers would yell back. Once he knew we were there, he would hop down and run over to the site. There wasn't one volunteer who didn't smile big because of Jason at least once. When we left each afternoon, he gave each and every one of us a giant hug, squeezing me so tight I felt the need to tell him I loved him in Spanish. He is loved, and when you're loved you should know it.


(jason and me).


After our work days are over it is customary to partake in a game of soccer with the community. While my enthusiasm for maintaining a "when in rome" mentality is strong, one cannot deny the fact that my soccer abilities are novice. On Tuesday evening all of the volunteers are taken to a cage soccer field where we spend the evening playing each other. I am terrified to even walk onto the field, but my peers pull the ultimate pressure and convince me to play in a practice round. Somehow, I managed to score three goals in a practice round when locals were on the field with us. For a moment I actually stopped and thought my reluctance to embrace a religion of some sort was trying to make me insert my foot in my mouth, although I still do not feel me having a proud soccer moment is actually on Gods priority list. Perhaps it was Karma, but the beauty of doing something that scares you can be defined with a moment like this one. Three goals. And Honduran locals screaming "pass to Yessica!" on the field. Although that beauty only lasted about 20 minutes. With my confidence now a little too high for reality, I played in the first real game against other female volunteers from different states (who I had not met before this evening). As soon as I saw their cleats I knew I was in trouble. Who brings cleats to Honduras? Only women who definitely know what they are doing! I lasted about six minutes before shin/knee slamming into a woman who I will say, is a phenomenal player. I would love to build a school with her, maybe have a coffee with her, but never ever again do I wish to challenge her in soccer. Lady who I never got to formally meet, my hats off to you! I iced my leg for the remainder of the game, but such is life when you are truly living in the moment.


(cage soccer team, and my fellow volunteers; some of the best darn kids I know).

It's midday and we are sitting in an empty classroom for a lunch break. A woman comes in with pastillas, a homemade pastry stuffed with chicken. Being a vegetarian I passed on this snack, but everyone else was raving about them. Our group leader comes into the room. “Hey guys, I was just told that Doris who made these, she loves you guys so much that she made these extra in her home for you.” ….everyone starts to chew slower and a few of us start to laugh. We had toured the village the day before, we had passed the homes of almost all the women who were now cooking our lunch each day. We had seen on the front lawns...the chickens. “Well, she was so happy with our work that she gave us one of her chickens to make these”.
The gesture was so kind. But I don’t think Americans are used to knowing so specifically where their food comes from, or better yet, meeting it the day before. Everyone laughs and eyebrows are raised over the cultural experience, but it didn’t stop anyone from eating. Besides, you couldn't have gotten a chicken that was anymore local or organic as this. On this day, our volunteer group with the help of many local children moved 400 bricks in an assembly line style to the school site. The work was done, the food was great; what more could we possibly want on this beautiful sunny day in Primavera?


One day we split into smaller groups to have lunch with families in the village, in their home. The family who hosts me this day consists of a mother, father, and four children. The youngest, a 3 year old boy greets us at the gate to his home but soon after is climbing the tree that stands over our lunch table, hiding from us in the tree tops. "Tu eres mi novio, si?" I yell up to him. (You are my boyfriend, yes?). The parents laugh hard, but the kid looks at me as if to say have you had your cooties shot yet? Girls are gross, after all; especially the gringas. (A term for well, white people).
We eat a lunch that is fresh, homemade, and insanely delicious. My favorite food to indulge in here are the avocados. They are so costly in New York, but plentiful and affordable in Honduras. The main dish is the baleada, a tortilla with refried beans, scrambled eggs, and other fillings of your choice such as avocados. Over lunch, we chat. A common conversation that is had with adults in Honduras is one of gratitude for volunteers. Visiting a country that has been receiving such negative press is not a foreign subject to the locals here. A teacher, and friend of mine over this lunch tells us "I admire you for coming and doing what you want, despite what the news says. ". On a separate occasion, Julio, one of our construction managers says "Thank you for sharing with us, the vision of a better Honduras." Of all the conversations to have with the locals, these are the ones that stop me in my tracks. This is, in my opinion, what it's all about. The vision that we share. Who says a New Yorker and a Honduran can't sit around eating plantains, as friends, discussing global affairs and favorite songs? This is exactly what happens though, when I am here.

(enjoying time with the littlest one at lunch).

The reality of Honduras is that those who are living in this geographical paradise for longer periods than my short stay face challenges that many of us have never had to think of. Abuse, drugs, neglect, poverty, rape, unsafe drinking water, gangs, and no access to a primary education are a few of the challenges children in Honduras are born into. With no education and a life in poverty, many children turn to gangs for security. These challenges also lead to a large number of orphaned children in Honduras, and as a result they are sent to overcrowded state run orphanages.

The founder of the organization I traveled with, Shin Fujiyama, is reversing the course for hundreds of children in Honduras. Every child should be born with the equal opportunity to lead a happy, healthy life. It is the right of the child, and as adults I believe it is our role to step in when (and where) we can. Shin says he will not leave Honduras until 1,000 schools are built. I have no doubt in my mind or heart that this is true. I feel that my role in this organization has been easy. After all, I just show up, pick up a shovel and do what I am told. Shin on the other hand: he isn’t just helping in the change, he is creating it. That is what I admire the most about him and this organization. Change takes courage, and I am grateful for the opportunities that lie ahead for Honduras thanks to a little bit of courage.


(myself, in villa soleada, with some little ladies I know from my first visit in 2010).

giving thanks

In 2007, two years before I entered the public health and nutrition world, I began what would become a tradition of working in a soup kitchen every Thanksgiving Day outside of New York City. While my experience has become more fulfilling each year for so many reasons, I am also thankful for the extra resources that I am able to bring each year besides simply my time as my studies grow. For example, this year I taught the kitchen directors’ husband the difference between Fructose sugar (in fruit) and Sucrose sugar (table sugar). I also advised him to lay lower on all the grape juice he confessed to consuming, and to try eating some fresh grapes more often instead. I explained how he is missing out on all the fiber grape skins have to offer. Plus, his grape juice is likely loaded with added sugars. It is in this community kitchen and food pantry that I help bread butter, cut pie slices, and my favorite responsibility: serve to hundreds of people. But I should admit my love for serving most likely has to do with how I love to talk, and how I have this strange thing with watching people eat…

I love watching people eat. It may be because in my brain I am picturing the biochemistry occur in your digestive track. I value the delicate system that is our body, and know just how unbelievably amazing we work; more specifically how amazing food is, and how it absorbs into our cells to help us perform all the right functions. It is a sensitive system, and relies so much on how we treat it. This makes me a jumping bean in a soup kitchen where I not only get to see people eat, but I know it is temporarily relieving a food insecurity that one in six American homes are currently facing.

While I take pride in being able to serve, I only had that responsibility in the morning. Somehow, I got drafted to the kitchen for the actual meal, where guess what? I was behind the Turkey. There I was in my apron, plastic gloves, and Oakland Athletics baseball cap using tongs to grab turkey and begin making the plates which would be served. Turkey parts drenched in gravy or not, I was a happy camper. (After everyone has eaten we make second plates and wrap them with foil for guests to take home).



There is one man I look forward to seeing every year. We will call him Mr. B*. He always greets me with “I knew you’d be here today!” I look at Mr B* who has corn bread on his plate. I am walking around with my trail mix and plastic spoon. I am competing with the pies, coffee cakes, and corn breads that were also being passed around with coffee in the hour leading up to lunch time. “Would you like some trail mix?” I ask him. He pauses and smiles at me as if he is thinking about it. I don’t give him a real chance to answer. “You know what? You’re going to have some. There are walnuts in here, which are good for your brain, (as I place walnuts on his plate) and almonds which can help you stay full. This trail mix is packed with goodness and we want you healthy”. He laughs and says “oh yea? OK”, and he eats it. His friend looks at me and says “You must be a vegan”. (This is typical, I say “healthy” and it is assumed I am one of those wacky vegan, organic, no meat, tofu loving, tree hugging people). Which, I suppose, I am not too far away from ;)
“Well, close, I am actually a vegetarian, I can’t give up cheese!” and I laugh at myself. He asks me about iron and protein among other common questions on this subject. Then he told me I looked like I needed a burger. He was joking, (right?) but really, they were great. We fed 238 people this day.

From a nutritional standpoint, as expected with most donated food it is more common to see the processed items (boxes of white pasta, instant mashed potatoes, “little Debbie” cakes, Entenmanns products, canned peas and carrots etc) get served. Donated food comes with a lot of “red tape”. Most kitchens want non perishable items which make people think of canned and boxed, which often come along with oober amounts of preservatives and ingredients that shy away from natural, and certainly aren't "whole". Also, the source is important to guarantee that no one will get sick, so it is not common to see homemade foods in these kitchens. There are so many factors that affect what kind of food is served, and why. If I have learned anything over the last 4 years in community nutrition, it has been to not become the ignorant nutrition student who asks “why can’t we make a vegan casserole for everyone today?” As an aside: if I go out to our guests and offer anything vegan, I would probably have mashed potatoes flung at me. (Community Nutrition Part One: Know your audience).

Despite budget restrictions, food safety concerns, and the “appeal” of junk foods to most American people, I still believe strongly in pushing for nutrition education and making even small changes to food programs for the better. And if I may step away from my own personal viewpoint for a moment, I would like to point out in an unbiased manner that the working poor and low income populations who are obese and diabetic (or at risk for being so) are the same population groups who are most likely not insured. When they are sick, they rely on federal programs to get better. It is economically wise to protect this population group, regardless of where you stand politically, where you feel our congress should be slashing funds, or how you feel about fruits and vegetables. It is
economically wise to protect all population groups for that matter, since healthy adults are productive and contribute more to society in the long run as opposed to those who are sick, and/or out of work. Healthy children do better in school, and grow up to be healthy, smart, and successful adults. And since our nation has federally funded emergency food systems across the country, congress absolutely has the power to choose the path that is “good” here. Above and beyond economic decisions, it is also morally correct. Humans are good, and we have good nature within us to, when we are aware of the better outcome, do what we can to make that the reality.




If you would like to donate food to your local food pantry or community kitchen, here are a couple of suggestions:
1.Find out if they have freezer space, and if they do then donate frozen vegetables instead of canned. Frozen vegetables are picked when they are ripe, and flash frozen on the spot. There isn’t any sodium like there is in canned foods, and they can be in a freezer for many months. Also, vitamin content remains intact so your eaters will be getting nutritious vegetables.

2.Most kitchens do not accept, but if yours takes homemade food; consider making something fresh to bring.

We live in a world where there is an abundance of food at the same time as massive shortages. We live in a country where the wealthiest live a short number of miles away from the poorest. There are discrepancies everywhere as the gaps widen, and the numbers show that these gaps are affecting our mental and physical health. Above all of this, in our shakey economic state; it is important to remember that it does not matter which side of the table you are on whether you are serving or eating that day. We are all the same, and everyone deserves food that makes them healthy and feel good.

my love for organics (and pancakes)

On any given Sunday walking the streets of New York City you are bound to find yourself among the dominating sub population group known as “the brunchers”. Whether it’s at 2pm with sunglasses on drinking a bloody mary to cure last nights hangover, or at 11am wearing ballet flats and pearls; it is a tradition for all walks of life. Fortunately for me, one of my friends celebrated her birthday last week and birthday brunches are a popular reason for the pancake indulging I took part in. I love to brunch. And while I am not one of those people yet who has the “same place every week with the same friends” ritual, I go when I can and quite frankly I do well at it. I went for the whole grain blueberry pancakes. Fresh blueberries were in the batter so there was no blueberry compote (that looks- like-blueberry-jelly syrup that pretends to make your pancakes blueberry but is really just sugar and most likely artificial). I had them with strawberry butter, a mimosa, and a cup of coffee. I am caffeine free but the coffee was organic, and if you have never tasted organic coffee I insist you run out and grab a cup. There is a noticeable difference in taste. For a special celebration and in the name of organics, I enjoyed a cup (and that mimosa).

Organic food has to fight hard for its approval with the average consumer since it is so often affiliated with being overpriced. Others think organic means it is a “health food” so that it probably tastes different, or cardboard like. Not many people simply know the truth about organics. When you buy organic food it means that no pesticides, herbicides or other chemical fertilizers were used on the soil or in any part of the production process. The company adheres to strict national guidelines that the USDA has set in regards to the production, processing and handling of the food, and they are inspected routinely to make sure they are consistent in these practices. Also, organic food cannot be genetically modified. There is no doubt that organic food is better for our planet, better for our bodies, and better for our food system, but you’re right: they are more expensive. Even though the organic business is growing every year, there are still substantially less organic farmers in America then there are conventional. The less supply but growing demand is one cause for the price mark up, but it is the extra labor and not as popular farming methods that take more time and care that round out the reasons. A ton of paperwork goes into becoming certified organic as well, and it is expensive for farmers to obtain the certification. This means two things: 1. There are a lot of farmers out there practicing organic who cannot afford the certification therefore potentially losing business from consumers who only trust the label. And 2. There are many “big agriculture” companies who can always afford certification for some of their products, but it does not mean the company as a whole practices organic throughout. An example of this would be the Kashi company.

What once was small and occupying little shelf space in food stores, Kashi has grown to one of the leading brands I see in my wholefoods market. They have 24 different types of cold cereal alone, in addition to the crackers, cereal bars, oatmeals, cookies, pizzas, frozen dinners, and frozen waffles they make. They market themselves as a health food company focused on whole, natural ingredients that are better for you and the earth. Kashi has been around for a long time, and eventually was bought by Kellogg. All the big companies are buying up the small organic ones because they are noticing the trend early: organic is in, and if we want to survive then we need stock in this. You wouldn’t know it by looking at a box of their cereal, but Kellogg owns Kashi now. Kashi cinnamon harvest cereal has the USDA Certified Organic label which means that they by law are producing this cereal under the organic guidelines that have been set. However, Kellogg is not a company dedicated entirely to organic farming practices. Other kashi cereals you will notice now such as berry blossoms, and honey puffs cereal do not have the label. They are not being processed under the same standards that the cinnamon harvest cereal is. If you have known of Kashi all this time it would be easy for you to not be aware of who their new boss is, and perhaps not think twice about picking up any box of cereal from them. After all, they are a healthy company. If you are not looking for that organic label it may be easy to assume any product of theirs is OK, but that is just not the case. If you want organic, you need to look for that label.

If you have the purchasing power to buy organic all the time, then there is really no good reason not to. However, if you are finding yourself wanting desperately to switch to organic purchases, but on a dollar menu budget; there are ways to prioritize. There are the foods I would suggest to always go organic with, and then there are the foods that we can spare. The “always” foods? Milk and dairy products. I would never consume milk or yogurt that is not organic. My reasons including unsanitary factory farms, my disagreeing of the conventional corn feed our cows are given, and of course Recombinant bovine somatotropin (rBST ): the artificial growth hormone given to cows to increase milk production. I want my foods as close to nature as possible, and cows make BST on their own. The rBST is the synthesized man made version of the hormone that is given to up production. I find this unnatural, potentially unsafe, and in my opinion just kind of gross. If I ate meat, I would only eat organic, grass fed meat for similar and additional reasons. Dairy and meat to me is just too darn important to continue eating these groups conventionally. If affording organic meat all the time is too expensive, my advice is to simply eat less of it.

After dairy and meat I turn to fruits and vegetables with thin skins, or outsides that we consume. Examples include grapes, apples, tomatoes, celery, carrots and lettuce. We want these foods especially pesticides free because we eat them as they are and easily consume what lies on the surface of them. Foods with thick skins that we do not eat: avocado, eggplant, mango, watermelon, oranges and bananas would be on my list of foods we can spare. The skin of a banana is thick, and we throw it away before eating. Pesticides on a banana are not making it into our body as easily as pesticides on our lettuce. Finally, one last place you can go conventional is your seafood. Start thinking like a savvy consumer: how does anyone know if your fish is organic? Fish and seafood come from the ocean where there is no real way to track what they have encountered: pesticides, chemicals, floating garbage, whatever. So while buying fish, don’t waste your money on the package promising anything “extra”. There are no set guidelines for organic seafood because the government understands there is no possible way to guarantee it. However, I do suggest wild over farmed fish any day of the week.

If you want a diet that is chemical free, care about the sustainability of our soil, or both: then you should be eating organic. The concept is growing as more people begin to understand what it means, and this may mean eventually one day organic food can be the “norm” and not cost as much to supply. Every purchase matters, so make the switch where you can.

the touch screen world

(photo from takepart.com)
On Wednesday I rode the subway for an hour and a half to a preschool which is run out of a church in Queens. I am currently working for a small research project which has me traveling across the 5 boroughs a few days a week. Not only am I part of a physical activity and nutrition project for children, (which to say the least is “right up my alley”), but I get to spend about 8 hours a day in the presence of three year olds, and that my friends can be quite entertaining. I have been practically everywhere in the 5 boroughs, expanding on my familiarity with the city I love so much. From West Harlem to Central Brooklyn to Far Rockaway, I am there with my enthusiasm for whole grains and 30 minutes of recess each day.

“Toto we’re not in Kansas anymore” would be a perfect one line description of my job these days. What I see, and what I hear sometimes amazes me, sometimes concerns me, but most of the time makes me laugh. There was the center that was taught primarily in Spanish; at 8 am that day I was greeted with 14 “hola”s as each kid walked into the classroom. In another school I was asked to play a game with a little boy on the playground who told me we were guarding our castle (the jungle gym) against Vashti. When I asked who this person was, the response I got was “she’s a bad guy! She makes you work on shabbos!” (This was a school run by orthodox Jewish women). Then there was the Russian school, where one beautiful little girl with a blonde braid all the way down her back approached me and spoke in her teeny voice in Russian, words I could not understand. “I’m sorry, in English please?” I asked. She looked at me as if she needed a minute, and then spoke slowly: “what’s your name?” These children danced to instrumental music with scarves before nap time, and the music sounded exactly like the music that used to play in my ballet classes. I sat there in awe, wishing I could be back in a pair of pink tights with my hair in a bun. It was also at this school that I was told by the director “our kids are fed well, but of course most of them are taken care of by their grandparents who are old school in their beliefs and give them pancakes every morning for breakfast! (she starts chuckling in her thick Russian accent) “you know! Oh eat eat! You are too skinny! Have cakes! That’s what the grandparents want”. And nothing beats a day in the life for me than when a child says “is lunch soon? I am going to eat all of my vegetables first! Watch!”

This Wednesday though I had the pleasure of enjoying lunch with the other teachers in the school. When I ran to get my purse for money for the lunch order, my cell phone fell out of my sweater and smashed on the floor. Oh blackberry, we had a good run. I sat at the lunch table trying to revive my phone, but the white screen and buzzing noises of text messages coming through that I would never be able to read was making it clear that I needed to say goodbye. “You should go fix the phone now while you can! I’m sure there is an At&t store around here” said one of the teachers. “Oh there’s no way” I said, “I can’t leave and possibly miss part of the school day”. “Oh, we won’t tell anyone you left” one giggled, and continued: “you must be thinking my goodness these Christian Women and look at what they are telling me!” Everyone starts laughing. “Yes, we’re good Christian women! Now when you go to At&t don’t tell them you dropped it. Just say you took it off the charger and the screen went white on you” another teacher says. I was laughing pretty hard at this, and I joined in with a few of my own jokes, mostly about how I don't go to church, but would be way too scared to lie to at&t. Even though we laughed and made peaceful conversation about religion, what the women all really wanted from me it turns out was nutrition advice. Word got out before the a.m. snack time for the kids that I was in the food field and by lunch they had reported to the cafeteria with all of their questions. I don’t mind this stuff at all. In fact, as long as I have the answer to the question I enjoy it very much. One of the teachers has been diagnosed with pre diabetic blood sugar levels and she is concerned about becoming diabetic if she doesn’t better control her diet starting immediately. She had heard about the glycemic index, but was unsure of what it was, and was looking for the easiest way to know what was OK from it to eat, and what was not. Below is how I summed it up for her.

I think the glycemic index is great for anyone. It gives food and beverages a score (1-100) that is determined based on the blood glucose effect that food has on you. Foods high on the glycemic index such as white bread and baked potatoes (skinless) absorb quickly into our cells, requiring a fast and abundant amount of insulin. Foods low on the index like sweet potatoes and apples, digest and absorb more slowly. Gradual absorption means gradual breakdown and release of glucose into the bloodstream, and a more balanced insulin/uptake process into the cells. This is important for those with diabetes who need to manage their blood sugar levels, and are taught to “carb count” by spreading their carbohydrates evenly throughout the day to maintain energy without having any spiked levels of blood glucose. You do not need to be diabetic in order to eat based on the index. Some people believe the index can be used as a weight loss tool. As I always say about any diet tool, I use the index as more of a reference and not for any complicated “diet”. There are a lot of books out there that turn eating into a chemistry project, but I don’t believe it is always that complicated. Unless you have a medical condition you can use the index as a reference too. Turns out most of the time the healthier foods are on the lower end of the index, and higher in fiber, which most Americans are not getting enough of. Foods that are high in fiber (soluble fiber specifically) digest and absorb into our cells at a slower pace, which is why they will have lower scores on the index. Remember though, fiber itself never absorbs into our cells. We do not digest it, which is why fiber is not considered a nutrient. I told the teacher to stick to whole grains, oatmeal, apples and sweet potatoes, but to avoid white breads, white rice, sugary breakfast cereals and gatorades. Also, physical activity never hurt anyone in managing their diabetes.

PS: I ended up with an iphone after my visit to at&t that evening. I have entered the touch screen world, and I am awful at it. I have so much to learn still :)

Mangia!

There is something about Sunday night that means something to me. This time of year especially, my relationship with Sunday night is a catch-22. There are the “Sunday blues” as my mother referred to them when I was growing up since all of a sudden I would get a stomach ache after the sun went down (every week). Her theory was that it was because the weekend was over and I was getting anxious about school the next day. I think I still get a small case of Sunday night blues sometimes. No one likes the weekend to end, but maybe it was because Sunday was so much fun at the same time that added insult to injury. In my house, I grew up with Sundays as a part of my family culture. My dad would spend the day in the living room screaming at the NFL games on TV. The house would be filled with the noise of the crowds cheering on TV, the musical football theme songs the channels would play, and my dad literally lying on the floor and screaming “no no no!” if the Jets blew it. My mom would be in the kitchen making baked ziti, and my dad would wander into the kitchen every now and then to check on the sauce. I spent the day doing homework, playing in the fall leaves, (or snow), and wandering into the kitchen every now and then to dip a piece of italian bread into the pot of sauce. I frequently did this with my friend Kristen, who spent many Sundays with me at my house. We would even do our homework together just so we could keep our play dates. Dinner time was always baked ziti with lots of sauce, bread, and salad. As I got older I was able to add red wine to my dinner menu. Friends were always allowed to eat with us, and most of the time they did. It was the only night of the week that we ate in the dining room, and dinner sometimes lasted 3 hours. The sun goes down early this time of year, and cold dark nights only made staying in the house and getting full that much more fun.

Something about Sunday has stuck with me, despite the fact that I don’t have my own family yet to make sauce for. I know maybe 4 things about football, yet many weeks I have the games on in my apartment mainly for the comfortable background noise. I still get a little anxious about Monday morning being the awful day that follows fall/winter Sundays, but I still love to eat a lot and then crawl under covers for hours of rest. I don’t make a baked ziti for myself, but here is what I made last night: a healthy girls Sunday night dinner where pasta doesn’t have to be excluded and I get three servings of vegetables (yes, three!)

I begin with my three vegetables: garlic, spinach, and tomato. I cook my whole wheat elbow pasta, and put to the side in the colander. In a separate pan, I heat extra virgin olive oil.








Once heated I add the spinach, tomato and garlic and sauté on medium heat until the spinach and tomato are wilted and before the garlic starts to darken.













(all finished being heated)














I pour the pasta back into the pot and then add the contents from the pan, and marry the ingredients on very low heat to allow the flavors to carry into the pasta (about 3 minutes). Pour into dish, sprinkle black pepper on top and enjoy.












This meal is so easy, took less than 20 minutes to make, and is super healthy! In my new revised Sunday night dinner I had 2 servings of whole grains, three servings of vegetables, and 2 servings of healthy fat (from the olive oil). There are no added sugars, no artificial ingredients, and no preservatives in this meal. This is my wonderful way of keeping tradition, while adjusting for my dietary desires. :)



Here's to cold dark nights that are neither cold, nor dark.

a saturday night that made my heart smile

I stopped babysitting at the end of summer 2009. I was beginning the never ending journey that would be graduate school, and starting a new job as a tutor in Ft Greene Brooklyn. For a while I had returned to “corporate life” (although my corporate experiencesworking for high end fitness companies certainly weren’t typical). But when one mom texted me randomly that her now 7 year old daughter had been asking about me, I surrendered to my belief that “I’m too old to be babysitting” and told her to keep me in mind. All the kids I once watched are growing up; I suppose I am growing up too. Weird. The little girls father has a PhD in Public Health, and I find her parents to be more like mentors and friends who offer me only the best advice, rather than a couple I “sit for”. They are a great family, and I was so happy to hear from them.

So, one recent Saturday night I found myself on Park Avenue with some crazy Saturday night plans. There was the 7 year old little girl who is well spoken, dramatic, and bright; her Wheaton terrier dog named ginger, and myself. And I had so much fun with this amazing and special young lady.
For starters she could be my little sister, or my daughter in another universe. She is tall, with skinny limbs, and has blonde hair (like I had as a kid). She wears glasses and says “Oh my god you HAVE to see this!” in a dramatic fashion, also reminding me of myself when I was her age, (and well, still). She hugs me as soon as I walk into the apartment and leads me into her room where she has games already picked out for us. I told her that because it is Saturday night we can do much more then on a school night, and that it was going to be a fabulous girls night. She loved this idea. Mom and Dad took off (she says to me: “mom and dad are having a DATE, and she uses her fingers to put quotations around the word “date”) and after making bead necklaces for an hour, we were ready for dinner. Time to order the Chinese food.
When dinner arrived, I told her to have a seat while I made her plate. She likes chicken and broccoli. I had a plate of vegetables, tofu, and cashews. We had white rice and brown rice in cartons. I scooped brown rice onto her plate. “Can I have some white rice too?” she asks. “Yes you can, but I am going to give you half and half and you need to eat both ok? Because the brown rice is where all the nutrients are so you can stay healthy”. “Ok!” she says. Just like that. And as she scooped the brown rice up with her fork she even sang “Yum Yum, I am eating my VITAMINS”. That-a-girl. I am so proud. Over dinner we chat.

Me: “Have you been to a slumber party yet?”

“No, what do you do at a slumber party?”

“Oh it’s great! You’ll start going to them soon, maybe next year. One of your friends will have a birthday party, and all the girls bring their sleeping bags, and pajamas. You eat pizza, do each others hair, dance, and stay up all night! You’re super cranky the next day from not sleeping, but it is worth it because it is so much fun. It is a great part of growing up”

“Oh. I wouldn’t want to do that unless my mom and dad came”

“Nah. In a year or two you will be ready I promise. It is just like how you and I are spending our night tonight, except with all your school friends.”
(pause as she absorbs this concept of staying up all night…)

“Jessica…you’re nice. Can you read me a story tonight before bed? My other babysitter reads to me all the time, but I can’t always understand her because she has a Spanish accent” (I need to note, she wasn’t saying this in a mocking way. This is a classic example of kids telling it like it is).

I replied, “You got it sista. Whatever you want”
(pause for more eating as she asks me to cut her chicken into smaller bites).

“Jessica, when I’m 21 will you have a baby?”

“Well sweetheart. When you are 21 I will be 40. So, I hope so, I hope I have a baby by then, but I can’t say for sure whether I will or not”. “Why?” I asked. “You want to be my babysitter? I will need one for my “date” nights, (I do the same quotation gesture she used on me earlier when saying the word “date”) and you will be old enough”. She jumps up from her chair and says “Yes yes yes!” nodding her head with each “yes”. Eh, well. There’s one problem solved, 14 years in advance.

After dinner it was time to walk the dog.
During our walk she throws both her arms around my waist and admits that she is scared. “I am scared when I walk outside at night. I am scared of the dark” (puts her head down embarrassed) …”I still have a nightlight”.

I look down at her and say “that’s ok. You’re 7, you’re allowed to have a nightlight, it doesn’t make you any less of a woman”. We circle the block once, going down an avenue, over a block, and back up again. During this time she tells me story after story about her friends until she stops and says…
“wait. what was I saying? I forgot. I talk too much. Sometimes I talk so much that my throat hurts”. I burst out laughing and say “oh man, you really are just like me! It’s exhausting always having something to say isn’t it?” And she laughs too and agrees. I love talking to her. She isn't a baby anymore. She absorbs what I say, and when I teach her something new (like how to sign her name in sign language, or how to say "nice to meet you" in spanish) she says "ohhhh I get it nowww", and it feels amazing. I want nothing but the best for this one.

We returned to the apt with about an hour to spare before her bed time. This was just enough time to bake some brownies, allow her to do my makeup, and then wash up for bed. While baking, she runs over to the cd player and asks to play a cd. It is Colbie Calleit and the song “brighter than the sun” comes bursting on. As we eat dessert and I allow her to put blue eye shadow all over my lids, we still find time to dance to the music in the living room. It was a real party. I was rocking blue eye shadow and a side ponytail by the time she was done with me. With dessert and makeovers behind us, she brushes her teeth, finds her pajamas, and picks out the Wizard of Oz for me to read to her before bed. I lay on the right side of the bed, she on the left, and ginger at the foot of the bed. I did the “good witch” voice, and the “bad witch” voice, and the “I’ll get you my pretty” voice. It was 9pm, and the little girl and not so little dog were fast asleep.



(Looking at ginger this way because she was nudging her nose all over my, ahem, chest...)