The Question | Cinnamon Sourdough Waffles

Post #253

I have bloody scrapes on two fingers, a nice purple bruise and cut in one calf, a ruined batch of flapjacks, too much sugar, and a cancelled personal training session. 

Then there's this.

Snow. I love snow. I'm game to drive in it. Having an adversarial relationship to the weather changes little about what's in front of me when look out the window. Extending that idea, yes, my fingers may be bleeding (did you know dark chocolate is a so-so pre-workout but a great anticoagulant? Found this out the hard way!), but generally life is going well.  My bills are paid, my apartment is warm and well-stocked, my car works, my job is interesting, my friends and family love me (and I them!), and I have artistic projects in the works. Someday it'll be Saturday night. Why is it so difficult to accept success?

I'll offer an idea. But first, a recipe.

As 90 percent of the collages in my room attest, I heart me some waffles. Most of the money shots of pancakes and waffles with syrup that I clip come from Sur La Table and Williams-Sonoma catalogues. Most of my collages involve kitchen implements and Victoria's Secret models because those are the catalogues I receive. The emotional component to my love of waffles stems from eating Eggo cinnamon mini-waffles, General Mills' Cinnamon Toast Crunch and French Toast Crunch, and a shit tonne of homemade waffles and pancakes pretty much weekly from the time I could eat solid food to when I became gluten-free. Scratch that, pancakes are one of the first things I made GF.

Videre licet, pumpkin rice pancakes from May 2011, mere weeks into being GF.

Tangentially, I figured out vegan "Fronch" (yes, Fronch, not French) toast before I became vegan.

That was me as a sophomore at Princeton and it was a snowy day where I decided to cook for myself. Big deal, that, getting my hands dirty as a practical matter.  It was one of the first times I began to recognise how much time self-care takes. I mean, at the time I was already a morning exerciser, though I was warned off going to the gym overmuch and was told to sleep in. Now I'm fighting that "Oh, sleep in, you're just too tired" impulse. If there are extremes for a given set of characteristics, I'll be at the poles, not in the middle. All-or-nothing thinking can be great for focusing and getting things done, but oftentimes things are gotten done to the exclusion of details that flash by on the road of life.

Abstractions aside, it is really time for waffles. These mini-waffles were a "I just fed Audrey Jr., now what?" recipe creation.

Cinnamon Sourdough Waffles 

Modified from Chef in Disguise

1 cup fed teff sourdough starter

1/2 cup white rice flour

1/2 cup buckwheat flour

1/3 teaspoon xanthan gum

1 tablespoon cinnamon

2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

1 cup nondairy milk (I used unsweetened vanilla almondmilk)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Grease two twelve-well mini-waffle pans.

Combine all the ingredients in a large bowl and mix well. Transfer to the pans. Mine didn't fill all 24 wells; I filled the empty wells about half-full with water.  Bake for 19-21 minutes or until waffles test dry.  There's no need to rotate the pans or switch them halfway through baking. Let cool in the pans for 10 minutes then remove to a rack to cool completely.  These freeze quite well.

I've been reading other blogs on gluten-free and food allergy life, why they keep going. Amie at The Healthy Apple sums it up well, using a little spoon theory (Amie's model is quarters) to explain why it's just too costly to be unwell in order to fit in.

Preach it, sister! Food prep/self-care takes up, all told, a third of my day, and I have been urged to stop focusing so much on it. However, if I don't cook, I don't eat, and the prepared food that's available to those of us with food allergies is not worth the expense and energy to purchase (not to mention digest). If I don't meditate, I'm not even present. Ten minutes isn't that long to wait for me to get to reality, is it? Besides, giving in to something I may crave but not be able to eat because of allergies is a form of giving up on myself. I am worth more than that.  I could choose not to take the "ridiculous amount of time" I spend on myself or I could suffer, as I do when I cut corners, drive myself into a corner and I hurt. No one called the amount of time I spend on myself ridiculous save myself. Again, why do I think I ought not have success?

Thought experiment, as I go down this rabbit hole: I treat myself horribly because I don't deserve to be well. I don't deserve success, health, good friends, wealth, spiritual alignment, anything.

This is an idea I rarely articulate aloud in so many words, and I do not tell others that they have no right to wellbeing. I'm a health coach; convincing others they deserve to be well--because we do--is primo.  Somewhere along the way, I began settling and stopping short of success. I used to do more affirmations, positive statements to express a quality or way of being towards which I aspire.

• I am the boss of me.
• The knowledge of how to live my life comes not from books or other people, but from deep within myself.
• Comparing myself to others blinds me to my unique gifts and individuality.
• Finding people who support the positive changes I am making in my life is a part of my recovery.
• Truly believing that whatever I am is enough adds balance to my life and enjoyment to living.
• I am learning to get out of my own way so that I can accept and enjoy my share of life's blessings.[1]

Adding these back into my routine can help. I don't have the complete answer right now. I have the question, though, and that's half the battle, sometimes.

Parting shots:

Challenge exercises for January: burpees, pushups, and squats. 

First selfie of 2014, wearing a kimono. That pile of papers will be addressed!

Gym selfies for days. Going to the gym first thing ensures I get some "me time" to recharge. As an introvert, this is crucial to my wellbeing and ability to exist in society.

One of my new year's resolutions is to wear more leggings (because 1990s childhood). Blue crushed velvet (very pet-able) harem pants/leggings.

Sometimes I think about getting a food processor. Then my Vitamix produces this lovely hommos, and I have no desire to cheat on the Vitamix.

Some baked goods fall in the oven. Some fall off tables. At least my new Pyrex didn't break.

 RAWMEAL with chias, almondmilk, pear, and swiss chard. Coconut almond macaroons. Shakeology with almondmilk, flaxseed, banana, and collards.  Friday = protein shake day.

No comment. Found on Instagram.

[1] Claessens, Sharon Sassaman, The One-Day-at-a-Time Low-Fat Cookbook (New York: HP Books, 1996).