Eat For Your Season

Life is changing every day (in every possible way)

I’ve got another all-mushroom dinner coming up on September 7th at Collar City Mushrooms in Troy! The theme I’m going with is End of Summer Picnic — think tomato sandwiches with mushroom aioli, corn and huitlacoche, fancy milkshakes with mushrooms snuck into places you wouldn’t believe. Tickets will go on sale here.

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I remember when the nutritionist told me I couldn’t eat bread anymore; I couldn’t hear anything she said after that. I took the long way back to work so that I could cry as I contemplated giving up croissants and bagels and pizza for the rest of my life. It turned out that the carb thing was a red herring, and after months of traumatic elimination diets and endocrinologist visits, the digestive issues seemed to clear up on their own, possibly with assistance from some herbal supplements. I swore off nutritionists as a general category after that, and went back to eating the way I wanted.

I’ve been carrying around a small secret this summer, that has now grown to the size of an artichoke. I didn’t feel like talking about the pregnancy at first because it was unexpected and I was having too many complicated feelings at the same time. Then once I got over the shock and started getting excited, I got sick. The nausea showed up like clockwork around 5:30 each night as I tried to make dinner, so that as soon as I had something cooked, I didn’t want to eat it. I kept expecting it to subside, but it marched into my second trimester unceasing. I complained to my midwives, who offered varying levels of sympathy or prescription medicine that I wanted to avoid if possible. It wasn’t the severity of nausea that was the problem, it was the relentlessness and tiresomeness of not being able to eat dinner for 3 months. Eventually, one of the midwives suggested more protein, and I decided to actually follow her advice. I read more about blood sugar and tried out some changes.

A day of eating now looks like this: A small bowl of plain yogurt or cottage cheese with a little museli and a lot of peanut butter for breakfast (or the peanut butter granola I posted today). A couple hours later, some apple slices with cheddar or crackers with hummus or pesto on mozzarella. Lunch is stretched out over the afternoon, with a tempeh or egg sandwich eaten slowly in quarters, possibly with a handful of nuts to balance out the bread. For dinner, I’ve grilled salmon with peaches and a yogurt sauce or made dal and rice or Hodo tofu burgers (19 grams of protein each!) with a lot of pickles. Before bed, I eat big spoonfuls of peanut butter with a couple Wheat Thins, which feel like dessert.

I’m no expert on the biology behind why this is working, but limiting sugar and fast carbs and increasing protein seems to be making me feel better. (As point of comparison: my diet a few weeks ago revolved around all the bagel and croissant places I wanted to hit up before we moved away from Brooklyn forever). When I try to “cheat” now with an impromptu dinner of zucchini pizza at the bakery, my stomach starts to gurgle in this telling way, and I decide it’s worth it to stick with the food that’s making me feel good.

I was thinking about this significant change in my diet when a friend texted me asking about ways to eat higher fiber lower carb meals, because of her recent high cholesterol and glucose readings. She was having a little bread-mourning moment that reminded me of my own. I tried to talk about how much I love seedy German health bread to help her focus on what she could eat. I shared the things I’ve learned about myself, like chasing something sweet with yogurt and feeling better. And who knows what will happen with her body and her numbers in the future. Sometimes things stabilize when you change your habits and you can loosen up a bit.

I’ve come to think of a diet or a way of eating as a “season,” which is helpful for dealing with many metabolic conditions. I know that’s easy for me to say, because my pregnancy won’t last forever and I’ll probably see the inside of a croissant again within a year. But I don’t actually know what will happen. It can be overwhelming to think too long and far about what you might lack. Listening to the body you have right now is the only manageable response.

I define myself less by my food choices now than when I was younger. Becoming vegetarian at 16 felt like one of the first big decisions I made about who I was and “plant-based chef” is how I describe myself now. During this pregnancy I’m relying more heavily on dairy products and fish than I usually do, but I don’t feel troubled about my identity (except when I post to Instagram and feel like I need to caveat the sardines). Identity is overrated, especially if it becomes limiting. Most of it is an artifact of having to justify ourselves to other people all the time.

It’s summer, but the season I’m in is free of cold beer and funky wine and soft serve and tomato-mayo sandwiches. It’s full of (peanut butter tbqh but also) new experiences like grilling and having all our meals on the deck while the backyard cycles from birds chirping to whatever sound crickets make. I’m happy to have found a way to eat and be during this period. By winter, everything will change again.

What I’m Cooking