OMG Soup

It dawned on me, about two days ago, that I am two people away from Alan Ball. Holy MOSES!

I was laying awake at night wishing that Mr. Ball was my mentor, my slave-driver, my God. But how is a little girl like me ever going to come into contact with a Mighty Important Person like that? He is practically living in another galaxy than I am. There is always away, my pal Frida said. But I didn't believe her. In my world, I never get a chance. In my world, there is no way I will ever get anywhere. In my world, unless I am drunk or under hypnosis, I just don't stand a chance.

It was then I remembered that I actually know I guy, who knows Alexander Skarsgård (who plays in True Blood), who therefore knows...... ALAN BALL! I mean! OMG!

I seriously could not sleep the entire night. Just the thought that I was just TWO people away (I love that x people away theory) from A BALL (funny) made me high with rushes of ecstatic energy. Still now, I am under a sort of OMG spell.

So, after working up quite some courage, I wrote the guy, and asked him if there is any chance that he could and so on... and he replied YES, HE WOULD DO HIS BEST! How lovely is that? In my world the chance is about 98% I won't hear another word about it, but you know, it COULD be 50% or even 85% that I will.

OMG Soup

2 parsnips

1 onion

2 cm piece of ginger

2 tomatoes

vegan stock

a pinch of...

...turmeric

...galgant root

...yellow mustard seeds (freshly ground)

...star anise

Peeled and cut the obvious things.

heat up some olive oil in a pan, let the onion and ginger fry for a few minutes. Add the parsnips. Add the spices (except for the star anise) and the stock (about a table spoon) and let the oil and veggies soak it all up. Add the tomatoes. Add a little less that a liter of boiling water. Taste the soup and if needed, add another spoon of vegan stock. If you like it hot, add some harissa paste or sambal oelek. Add two whole star anise to the soup and let cook about ten minutes. Mix with hand mixer.

It has sort of a warm, christmasy feeling to it. Not bad.

Spiritual Spinach

One, my back is fucked. Two, we have to stop eating meat.

There is quite some discourse here in England about the topic of climate change and cows gases, all thanks to this dude Lord Stern (Is that his real name? Why could I not have been called Lady Stern? Which is star, obviously, in german. Life is so unfair.) According to some article in The Guardian: A kilo of beef is responsible for more greenhouse gases than a three-hour car journey while leaving all the lights on in your home.

That is fucked up.

There are two things that come to my mind reading this. One, wow - I hardly eat any meat or milk products or processed food. Does this mean I can take my long showers in the mornings with a clear conscience from now on? Finally.

Two, maybe my body, which hates wheat, sugar, meat and diary products, is in fact A HIGHLY EVOLVED SPIRITUAL THING. Maybe aliens or god or someone, or our collective unconscious, is evolving our bodies to NOT being able to eat that stuff any more - as a solution to climate change?

Spiritual Spinach Red Rice Salmon Salad with Walnut Dressing

some smoked salmon

a bag of young spinach

two small cups of red rice

alfalfa sprouts

half a cup of walnuts

a handful of basil leaves

some olive oil

lemon juice

2 cloves of garlic

salt and pepper

Cook the red rice with double water for about 2o minutes. Put spinach in salad bowl. Cut the salmon in nice long stripes. Add the sprouts and the walnut dressing. Mix in the rice when ready.

Dressing: Place the walnuts, basil, garlic in a bowl with salt and pepper. Pour over 4 tablespoons with olive oil and squeeze over some lemon juice. Mix with hand mixer.

Sooooooo good.

Bad Back Stir Fry

Sport is dangerous, booze is healthy.

I always knew this, but sometimes you forget what you know, and it has to be proved again. I have been trying to motivate myself to do some sport recently, at which I have failed completely. Getting out of bed is enough activity for me on most days. But my back has felt tense and the bad conscience has been weighing heavy. So, yesterday, I finally fought through resistance, carried my violet natural rubber yoga-mad (!) mat into the living room, and lowered the curtains for some privacy. My plan was to start doing the 'Five Tibetans' again, and continue doing them every morning for the rest of my life.

And so I started stretching out the left side of my body and the right... and the left and the... SHIT. What was that? A ball of intense pain shot out from my lower spine. Oh well, I thought, I'll just carry on. You can't give up on the first threshold, not if you have read story theory by Joseph Campbell. So I continued with the First Rite.

Stand erect with arms outstretched, horizontal with the shoulders. Now spin around until you become slightly dizzy. There is only one caution: you must turn from left to right.

My back felt a little better. So I started the Second Rite.

Lie full length on rug or bed. Place the hands flat down alongside of the hips. Fingers should be kept close together with the finger-tips of each hand turned slightly toward one another. Raise the feet until the legs are straight up. If possible, let the feet extend back a bit over the body toward the head, but do not let the knees bend. Hold this position for a moment or two and then slowly lower the feet to the floor, and for the next several moments allow all of the muscles in the entire body to relax completely. Then perform the Rite all over again.

As I got through all five of them, I was laying of the floor feeling quite pleased with myself, thinking I might really get into this yoga stuff again. That lasted for about five seconds, until I tried to stand up. Aouch! Shit! My back!

I had to walk bend over with one hand on my lower back like a witch for the rest of the day. But luckily there was a free bar after the masterclass yesterday evening. And, of course, after a glass of wine, I could stand straight as a lamppost again. Nope, no more yoga for moi. Ever. It is far too dangerous.

Bad Back Stir Fry

2 chicken filets

1 zucchini

1 red onion

half a eggplant

half long pointed red pepper

1 big tomato

piece of ginger

2 cloves of garlic

little finely chopped lemon grass

rose harissa (or any chili paste)

handful of young spinach

fresh basil and coriander

half a lime

tamari sauce

vegan stock without added yeast

ground whole coriander, fennel and cumin in a coffee grinder (or with a pestle and mortar).

Saute (new word!) the finely chopped garlic, onion, lemongrass and ginger for a few minutes. Add the ground spices. Add the veggies and fry for a few minutes. Make space for the chicken filets and place them in the pan too.

Pour over a spoon of the stock. Add a knifes edge of harissa on each piece of chicken and some on the veggies. After a few minutes, when the whole thing looks a bit dry, add half a cup of water and some lime. Turn the chicken. Sprinkle some tamari sauce (wheat free soy sauce) over all of it. At this point the veggies should be soon ready, so I usually take out the chicken and slice it in one or two smaller bits to make the whole thing faster. So put the thinner slices back in the pan, and you might want to add another half cup of water.

Tear over the spinach, basil and coriander and some more lime. This is truly the yummiest.

For the inner Glutton

You present somewhat of a challenge, said Dr. PJ in his wonderful french accent. Tell me about it, I thought. I have to deal with myself EVERY day.

He ripped the paper off a needle, rolled up my leggings a little higher and stuck it in my leg. You don't have candida. You don't have irritable bowel syndrome. I don't know what you have.

I have been trying to figure myself out for thirty something years. I have payed hundreds of people to help me in my quest. Doctors, hand-readers, healers, shamans, therapists, gurus and masseuses. To name but a few. So what is WRONG with me? I am getting pretty tired of having to fix myself.

But on the other hand, maybe nothing is wrong with me right now because I can't eat baguettes and chocolate muffins and creme brulee. Maybe, I am thinking, something is Right with me. Maybe, maybe maybe, my body is a pretty clever thing. Cleverer and wiser than my inner demon Glutton. This inner Glutton of mine is insatiable. It will eat bad stuff till it just can't take it anymore. This bad bad Glutton stares at candy with red bloodshot eyed and an evil whizzing sort of breathing, ready to eat anything it can till its gone. I am always amazed when I am with people who sit in front of a bag of crisps, have one or two, then stop. What? How? How is that possible? I will keep on going until the seams of the bag are licked clean of salt. Maybe my body is just plain simply saying: Dude, just don't eat that crap, ok? It's not GOOD for you.

And all those years suffering from fibromyalgia, maybe my body was saying something similar. Maybe my body had a message. Dude, I am not moving until you quit that shit job of yours! Duuuuhude, I am not moving until you learn to love me. Girl, don't you try to force me to do stuff I don't want to do!

An Easy Meal For the Inner Glutton:

1 pack of organic smoked salmon

a few potatoes

1 onion

2 cloves of garlic

some fresh parsley

salt and pepper

half avocado

Peel the potatoes and grate them. Place in bowl with chopped onion, garlic and parsley. Add some salt and a tiny wee bit of olive oil. Stir. Fry in pan with a little vegetable oil. If you want round cakes, just pour in a soupspoon of the taters and flatten carefully. Change side after a few minutes, flatten some more.

Serve with some salmon and mashed avocado. Lovely.

True Addiction

I can't decide if I am for the vampire cause or not. I might have to call Sam. No. Wait. I can't. He is just a fictional character. Damn. He is a shapeshifter though, too. What is worse? Being a fictional character or being a shapeshifter? Hm. Tough one. What animal would I be if I was a shapeshifter? Is it immoral to have fantasies about sexy vampire men? Hahahahaha! My t-shirt has vampire blood on it. Oh wait! It's just beetroot juice, I forgot. The juicer broke and showered me with the red fluid. Quite like a scene from True Blood. Alan Ball. You are true fab.

Lazy Hungry Short Cut Meal For True Blood Addicts

2 chorizo sausages

1 pack of M&S 'Super Whole food'

1 pack of M&S 'Edamame Soy Bean Salad'

fresh coriander

Chop up the sausages and fry them in a tiny wee bit of oil. Add the M&S stuff, stir, add the coriander. Eat.

Shut the fuck up

After having heroin watched True Blood for hours, I really needed some sleep. I cuddled down under the duvet and snuggled my nose deep into my new super smooth pillow. Ahhhhh. Sleep. That most divine healer of everything. I could feel the ecstasy of drowsiness decent upon me when...

Shut up! Shuuuuuuuut up! Shuuuut the FUCK up!

It was the crazy lady from opposite sticking her head out the window, shouting at the top of her lungs. Again. She does this a few times a week. This week she had done it twice already, so I was mighty frustrated that another nights sleep was gonna be interrupted by her hysteric fits. Usually she is set of by someone having a little party. A drift of a giggle. A bit of music. Some clinking of glasses. Nothing much, sounds belonging to the life in a city. I can sleep to that, I can sleep to some girls giggling. I can sleep to some people dancing to music. It is constant sound, you get used to it. And then the bitch starts to howl. Her voice is high-pitched and witch-like. It scares the shit out of me every time she starts.

I have told you to shuuuuut up! Show some respect!

I tip-toed up to the window and lifted the curtain slightly. There she was. A shadow figure leaning half out the window. She moved as if she could see me. I let the curtain fall back, afraid that she'd see me and turn her hate on me. Back in bed, all quiet. Ahhhh. Sleep. That divine...

Shut up! Shuuuuut the fuck up! I will call the police!

Her mad loudness echoed between the brick walls of the courtyard. I started to bang my fists against the mattress. You shut the fuck up lady! You shuuuuuuuut the fuck up! My imaginary self went up to my window, opened it and leaned out. YOU are the one keeping everyone awake! You are the one that disturbs everyones peace! YOU are CRAZY! But not only am I to coward to to this, my window doesn't actually open.

I hope you are happy shouting like that!

A man's voice. Chinese accent. Ohhhhhh! Someone finally shows some courage around here! How exciting.

Oh, why don't you shut up.

She spits it out with disgust.

-

Chicken filets with figs.

Fry the chicken with cherry tomatoes and quite a lot of garlic. Put a handful of fresh basil leaves on there for the last minute and a dash of lemon. Serve with rocket salad and ginger yoghurt (put chopped up rocket and ginger in a bowl with some salt and stir) and two figs, each cut into four pieces. Yum.

Double Up

I have a new doctor. His name is: Dr. PJ.

Hahahahaha! Isn't that great? I had to love him before even meeting him. Doctor Pajamas! That just cracks me up. Anyway, the acupuncturist Dr. Pajamas told me I most likely do not have candida. That's good news, I thought, still not understanding the magnitude of the information and what that would mean.

I don't think you have candida, Dr. PJ said. You look far too healthy. Tongue.

I stretched out my tongue.

Uhu, I said.

So I don't want you to be on that strict diet, Dr PJ said.

Ok, I said, so what do you want me to do?

He stuck another needle in my stomach.

I want you to just avoid dairy and grain products for six weeks, he said.

I can do that, I said. Could you please take the heavy towel off the needle on my hand, it hurts, I said then.

And then it dawned on me. Scheisse. Coffee.

Sooooooo... I started, is coffee a possibility on this diet of yours?

I had to hold my breath in anticipation.

How's your breathing? he asked then, noticing my lack of oxygen intake. Is it always this bad?

Very shallow, I said, finally taking a breath. Not a sporty person.

Coffee? He said. Sure, a cup a day. Without milk, obviously.

You know when something really really good happens to you, something so good you never thought it would happen to you, but it does, and you are left speechless, in a sort of silent reverie, a humble appreciation of the magic of life and all its gifts. That's how I felt.

Miss Bruckner? Miss Bruckner! he shouted.

Oh, what? Yes? I said drunkenly.

You will have to do some sport. Your body produces too much adrenalin at the moment. Very important. Sport.

Shit.

***

My first real coffee in four weeks:

A double espresso from Monmouth Coffee.