Like many things...my ED started off as something small. So small, that noone, and especially not myself, could have ever suspected anything was amiss. And just like the little crack in the windowscreen that soon, after taking hit after hit, becomes a dangerous and jagged fissure of broken glass; just like that tiny weed that grows and grows in the garden and chokes the life out of the dainty, fragile little flowers; just like that seemingly innocent little mass of cells in the human body which silently yet steadily develops into a tumour, unbeknownst to everyone, until the internal corruption within becomes so serious it begins to manifest itself on the body....just like all of those, so too did my ED grow and develop and evolve.
I remember my first few weeks of secondary school as clearly and as vividly as the day I moved away from home to start at college. And there are certain things, certain moments which in particular project out in my memory.
As a child in primary school, my existence was an entirely blissful one of idyllic and unbroken happiness. And boy did I eat. Like many little girls my age, I had a good appetite and was always hungry. I would get grumpy if dinner wasn't on time and would sulk if Mammy neglected to buy my favourite chocolates at the supermarket. I would squeal in delight at the sight of an ice cream van and would wolf down my sandwiches without thinking at recess, so eager was I to get outside and play with my friends, but knowing that first and foremost I had to eat the lovingly prepared packed lunch my Mammy had made for me. But then....then all of that changed.
Something broke inside me when I started at the Brigidine in September 2006. Something was lost...which I still, no matter how hard I try, can't seem to be able to replace. Suddenly I started to see myself in an entirely different way...and my diet, too. I was aware, painfully aware of what I ate; what everyone else ate; what she looked like and how slim she was...what I looked like and how my body shape stood in comparism. And what I saw and how I reacted had negative - and, as I realise now, destructive - consequences.
Over the past few days I've chartered it all...right from that autumn when my ED first started...right up till today, the day I was officially signed off from Trinity College Dublin. In my next few posts I will share my journey with you, as truthfully and as accurately as I can. I just want to show you a few things...how easy it is to be fooled by appearances...and by yourself, telling yourself that you are ok when you are anything but. The extent to which an eating disorder can have such horrible and devastating effects of the lives of the sufferer and all those he or she holds dear.
It all stands as a sad and rather painful reminder to me...of just how long I have been entrapped in a world of fear, anxiety, restriction, suffering. But at least I am in a better place now. I don't ever, ever want to go back...and though I am still finding things hard I know I am more of a tough cookie then I first thought.
As my counsellor told me today, when I described how, the day of my last doctor's appointment, it felt as if my whole world had been shattered into shards; shards which I would never be able to retrieve and piece back together again. "A world did fall apart, Emily...the one you have been living in for all those years of your illness. But now it's time to step from the ruins of that old world and start anew..and enter a different one of hope and possibility. " And so here is my journey from one world to the other. A journey which still continues as I navigate my way along the rocky, bumpy road that is recovery. But a journey upon which - I relaise now - I am no lonely, frightened, uncertain little traveller...for I know now I am never alone. <3
Wednesday, 3 December 2014
Monday, 1 December 2014
And not all the cakes I make are sweet after all... ;) Emmy's fish cakes.:)
Yes, believe it or not, Ganache-Elf's cake-making skills are not only confined to those of the sweet variety. ;)
These little fish cakes make a very yummy dinner or lunch and are far, far superior to anything you would buy in the shops (and much healthier too I bet. ;) They mark an important milestone for me in facing my fear foods...because they contain prawns and I can definitely say, hand on heart, up till this year I would never once have let a prawn enter my cooking or my mouth!! They are very nice served with maybe a few boiled or roasted baby spuds and some nice green veggies like peas, fine beans etc. But DO boil the potatoes with the skins on as I outline below. The first time I made these I made the mistake of peeling them automatically before sticking 'em on to boil...it's just what comes naturally to me I suppose...you never boil potatoes with the skins on!! But trust me it is the way to go..as doing it the "ordinary" way may make you fish cakes too crumbly. I get 8 fish cakes out of this; so generally, depending on how hungry you and your fellow diners are and what you are serving them with, the recipe would serve around 3 or 4. But don't forget you don't have to use them all up on the day you make them...you can freeze some (see step 9 below) and take them out the night before, so that all you have to do at dinner time is whip out a frying pan and grab the olive oil bottle...handy for those busy (or lazy ;) ) days. :)
Method :)
- 300g floury potatoes (about 3 mediumish ones :) )
- 250 g cod fillets, skinned and boned
- 60 g cooked prawns, cut in half if they're big :(
- 1 egg yolk
- 3 tsp Dijon mustard
- juice of 1 small lemon
- A good sprinkling of herbs ( chopped fresh chives and parsley would be good. But dried mixed herbs are grand too. :) )
- 3 tbsp white wine
- 75 g button/small mushrooms, chopped
- A few tbsp olive oil
- 75 g butter, diced
- salt and pepper
Method :)
- Wash the potatoes, and put them in a saucepan covered in water. Bring to the boil.
- Boil them rapidly for about 10 minutes, and then pour out about half of the water into the sink. There should still be some water in the pan, though - just enough so that the potatoes are half-covered. Return the pan to the hob and simmer gently on a medium heat for about 20-25 minutes.
- Drain the remaining water from the potatoes. let them cool for a few minutes, and then, holding them in a teatowel as they will be still quite hot, peel off the skins and discard. As soon as you've done that pop them in a bowl and mash them with a potato masher - but don't add anything to them for the nonce.
- Pour the wine and the lemon juice into a heavy based saucepan or large frying pan. Dice 50 g of the butter. Place the fish in the saucepan and season with salt and pepper. Scatter the diced butter all around.
- Put the pan on the hob and cover with a lid. Heat gently, over a low heat until the butter melts. Cook the fish for 10 - 15 minutes, until the flesh flakes easily. Transfer the fish to a plate. Simmer the poaching liquid in the pan for another few minutes, then pour it carefully into the bowl containing the potatoes.
- While you are cooking the fish, you can fry the mushrooms too: gently melt the remaining 25 g butter in a small saucepan, and then add the mushrooms and cook gently for about 5 minutes on a low-medium heat until softened and golden brown.
- Add the fish fillets and flake with a fork - but don't break them up too much. Season with salt and pepper and then add the egg yolk (perhaps save that egg white for making my very sticky coconut slices ?? ;) ) , the mustard, the chopped herbs, the mushrooms and the prawns.
- Mix it all up together - try not to break up the fish pieces too much as you go. Shape the mixture then into eight little patties - they should be about 8cm in diameter, and about 2 cm thick.
- Put the patties on a plate, cover with cling film and refrigerate for at least 2 hours. You can leave them in the fridge for up to 24 hours. If you only want to cook a few of the patties and want to save some for another day, you can freeze some of them at this point. Wrap the spare ones tightly in clingfilm and place them in a little tub or on a tray so that they don't get misshapen as they harden, and then place in the freezer. Defrost them overnight in the freezer and eat the following day.
- Pour about 3 tbsp olive oil into a large frying pan (or, if you prefer, a tbsp olive oil and 25 g diced butter) over a low-medium heat. After a few minutes add the fish cakes.
- gently fry the fish cakes for 5-10 minutes on one side, then carefully flip over and cook for another 5 - 10 minutes. They should be firmer and brown on each side when they are done, and nice and hot throughout. Add a little more oil if they are sticking to the pan.
- Divide amongst warm plates and eat immediately, with your choice of vegetables and/or potatoes, and maybe some tomato ketchup (or as my Irish friends say....RED SAUCE!!! :p ) or tartare sauce alongside. :)
Sunday, 30 November 2014
From the frozen hard ground of winter...a beautiful spring bud bursts forth.:)
As I sit here in the conservatory with my laptop, the pale yellow November sun casts its rays upon the garden, making the whole scene assume a kind of solemn sublimity, further heightened by the soft silence that is broken only by the occasional harsh trill of a blackbird, or soft, soothing cooing of a dove. The trees are almost bare now, their branches skeleton-like and dark against the emerald green of the grass at their roots. The sunlight though dances upon their tall, majestic forms, turning patches of the brown bark turn to dapples of gold; and throwing long shadows upon the ground; shadows which lengthen and amplify as the sun slips further and further down beneath the Slieve Blooms to the west.
it is a scene capable of evoking, for me anyway, the first crucial and fundamental ideas which are brought together to produce a work of art... I'm not really much of a painter (I enjoy painting and drawing but I fear Van Gogh and Da Vinci and Monet would all be turning in their graves if they saw one of my various attempts at creating a "Masterpiece" ... :p ) so for me this would most likely be a story of some kind. I don't know if you recall but there was one time when writing was my one time favourite hobby... but that all changed when I went to college. Writing became, for me, a source of stress and frustration as a pose to enjoyment and pleasure. I became isolated and detached from my own little writing projects that had previously meant the world to me...more than that; they were my world; and I invested a large amount of time and effort in them.
But here I am now, at home in my own little environment, away from college and the bustle of the city. There is no pressure to do anything, no rush to be anywhere, no essays to read or assignments to write. The only thing I have to focus on is...myself.
And really, I have all the time in the world to do whatever I feel like doing. Including writing...and I am glad to say that my former passion for writing has been rekindled. Perhaps it's only a spark, but who knows...that spark might become a flame, and then that little flame into an unquenchable fire which nothing will be able to extinguish. :) For I am hopeful that, once I get back into writing again...there will be no stopping me. This is what happened with my baking addiction and blogging, after all. Who's to say it won't happen again with my writing? :)
My first writing project which I want to dedicate some of my time towards, is something which I started a few years ago. And though I haven't done any work on it for a long time, the themes, subject matter, and characters of Morokia still hold, for me, a compelling fascination and a certain captivation... which has not, thankfully, been tainted or touched in any way by the disappointing and dispiriting experiences I have undergone in choosing to study English at Trinity. Or by my ED, of course.
And now I realise something which fills me with a sense of hope...which serves to somewhat dispel the feelings of uselessness, ineptitude, and worthlessness that seem to frequently occupy my head. I know that for the past 8 years I have been used, abused, and manipulated by my ED. It's always been the one that's been in control; it never ceased to not have the advantage over weak, defenseless Emmy. But now it's time, I think, for a reversal of roles. Instead of me being used and exploited consistently by my ED...it's now a case of I, the Ganache-Elf, being the one who has the upper hand.
I have always been a firm believer in the theory that one of the best strategies to adopt when it comes to writing is to write what you are familiar with, what you know. Haha. Morokia is a medieval story. Am I an expert on the Middle Ages? No. So yes one could argue I am most definitely contradicting myself here. But! In my defence..ok, maybe I can't say I know an awful lot about medieval stuff. Rather, it is through the sufferings and experiences of my characters, their various trials and tests and individual struggles, where I can really put my own knowledge and experience into play. For all of these can function as a mirror or a reflection of my own life, my own personal battles. It's like I am inserting a little piece of my own personality into my own characters and matching their worldly experiences with my own.
My feelings of inadequacy and inferiority; of worthlessness, helplessness, desperation...and my belief that I don't belong. Of feeling like a failure and a hopeless cause. fearing of change and the future. Wanting desperately to mature, but simultaneously longing to remain as that small little girl who wants to remain protected and closeted away from the harsh, cold, unfeeling world.
The character that I relate with the most is Begonia, who is a young princess abducted from her home as a child. While she is imprisoned, Begonia, despite being fed relatively well by her captors, begins to refuse to eat and stunts her growth. At the tender age of twenty-two, her radiant and startling beauty remains, but she has the body of a child and her body is infertile. Begonia's willingness to starve herself is brought about by a deep self-hatred and a desire to punish her own body. When one of the heroes of the trilogy, the young knight Connor, liberates her, she falls in love with the dashing young man, but is torn with despair at the thought that her barrenness will repel him. It doesn't of course - Connor loves her for as she is and not for her ability to reproduce children - but Begonia is desperate to make up for the damage and abuse she has put her body through all through her teenage years. She makes a brave attempt at restoring her weight and nursing herself back to health. Gradually, she becomes healthier, and she is filled with delight when her menstruation begins. However, her malignant half-brother drives the lovers apart and forces Begonia to marry a wealthy lord of his own choice. Begonia becomes disillusioned with misery and wretchedness. She sinks right back down into her old ways, purposely starving herself in order to undo the repair she has done and make her body barren once again in the hope this will repulse her new husband. As the trilogy commences, Connor's own intrepid endeavours to unite his divided, war-striken country are matched with his lover's personal battle with her own eating disorder, as she struggles to escape the manipulative voice in her head that whispers that she is of no worth, she deserves to die, and that she should destroy herself and rid the world of an existence that is of no significance.
And so I suppose one could say...we can make little flowers grow from something so cold and hard and cruel. by this I mean, that from the sufferings and struggles I underwent in my experience of an eating disorder...I can create something beautiful and positive and nurturing. I can translate my experiences through my writing and produce a unique and meaningful work of art. And in doing so, I can reach out again, in the same way as I have done with my blog...I can touch the hands of those like me who are have been, or currently are, fighting the same battle as I have fought for the past 8 years. Begonia does, as the third book in my trilogy reveal, recover from her ED and makes that crucial and fundamental recognition which I want all of you who are reading this to realise, too. You are beautiful, you are worth it, you deserve life and you should never, never let anyone - including your ED - let you think otherwise. So strive to be what you want to be. Love, laugh, live...open your eyes and see the sunlight streaming through your bedroom window like liquid gold. Dip your feet into the waters of the ocean and feel the spine-tingling coolness against your skin. Walk amongst the primroses and the new green shoots of spring and hear the birds call to you from the trees. Your life is worth more than a treasure trove of diamonds and you deserve to live it the way you want it to be. :)
it is a scene capable of evoking, for me anyway, the first crucial and fundamental ideas which are brought together to produce a work of art... I'm not really much of a painter (I enjoy painting and drawing but I fear Van Gogh and Da Vinci and Monet would all be turning in their graves if they saw one of my various attempts at creating a "Masterpiece" ... :p ) so for me this would most likely be a story of some kind. I don't know if you recall but there was one time when writing was my one time favourite hobby... but that all changed when I went to college. Writing became, for me, a source of stress and frustration as a pose to enjoyment and pleasure. I became isolated and detached from my own little writing projects that had previously meant the world to me...more than that; they were my world; and I invested a large amount of time and effort in them.
But here I am now, at home in my own little environment, away from college and the bustle of the city. There is no pressure to do anything, no rush to be anywhere, no essays to read or assignments to write. The only thing I have to focus on is...myself.
And really, I have all the time in the world to do whatever I feel like doing. Including writing...and I am glad to say that my former passion for writing has been rekindled. Perhaps it's only a spark, but who knows...that spark might become a flame, and then that little flame into an unquenchable fire which nothing will be able to extinguish. :) For I am hopeful that, once I get back into writing again...there will be no stopping me. This is what happened with my baking addiction and blogging, after all. Who's to say it won't happen again with my writing? :)
My first writing project which I want to dedicate some of my time towards, is something which I started a few years ago. And though I haven't done any work on it for a long time, the themes, subject matter, and characters of Morokia still hold, for me, a compelling fascination and a certain captivation... which has not, thankfully, been tainted or touched in any way by the disappointing and dispiriting experiences I have undergone in choosing to study English at Trinity. Or by my ED, of course.
And now I realise something which fills me with a sense of hope...which serves to somewhat dispel the feelings of uselessness, ineptitude, and worthlessness that seem to frequently occupy my head. I know that for the past 8 years I have been used, abused, and manipulated by my ED. It's always been the one that's been in control; it never ceased to not have the advantage over weak, defenseless Emmy. But now it's time, I think, for a reversal of roles. Instead of me being used and exploited consistently by my ED...it's now a case of I, the Ganache-Elf, being the one who has the upper hand.
I have always been a firm believer in the theory that one of the best strategies to adopt when it comes to writing is to write what you are familiar with, what you know. Haha. Morokia is a medieval story. Am I an expert on the Middle Ages? No. So yes one could argue I am most definitely contradicting myself here. But! In my defence..ok, maybe I can't say I know an awful lot about medieval stuff. Rather, it is through the sufferings and experiences of my characters, their various trials and tests and individual struggles, where I can really put my own knowledge and experience into play. For all of these can function as a mirror or a reflection of my own life, my own personal battles. It's like I am inserting a little piece of my own personality into my own characters and matching their worldly experiences with my own.
My feelings of inadequacy and inferiority; of worthlessness, helplessness, desperation...and my belief that I don't belong. Of feeling like a failure and a hopeless cause. fearing of change and the future. Wanting desperately to mature, but simultaneously longing to remain as that small little girl who wants to remain protected and closeted away from the harsh, cold, unfeeling world.
The character that I relate with the most is Begonia, who is a young princess abducted from her home as a child. While she is imprisoned, Begonia, despite being fed relatively well by her captors, begins to refuse to eat and stunts her growth. At the tender age of twenty-two, her radiant and startling beauty remains, but she has the body of a child and her body is infertile. Begonia's willingness to starve herself is brought about by a deep self-hatred and a desire to punish her own body. When one of the heroes of the trilogy, the young knight Connor, liberates her, she falls in love with the dashing young man, but is torn with despair at the thought that her barrenness will repel him. It doesn't of course - Connor loves her for as she is and not for her ability to reproduce children - but Begonia is desperate to make up for the damage and abuse she has put her body through all through her teenage years. She makes a brave attempt at restoring her weight and nursing herself back to health. Gradually, she becomes healthier, and she is filled with delight when her menstruation begins. However, her malignant half-brother drives the lovers apart and forces Begonia to marry a wealthy lord of his own choice. Begonia becomes disillusioned with misery and wretchedness. She sinks right back down into her old ways, purposely starving herself in order to undo the repair she has done and make her body barren once again in the hope this will repulse her new husband. As the trilogy commences, Connor's own intrepid endeavours to unite his divided, war-striken country are matched with his lover's personal battle with her own eating disorder, as she struggles to escape the manipulative voice in her head that whispers that she is of no worth, she deserves to die, and that she should destroy herself and rid the world of an existence that is of no significance.
And so I suppose one could say...we can make little flowers grow from something so cold and hard and cruel. by this I mean, that from the sufferings and struggles I underwent in my experience of an eating disorder...I can create something beautiful and positive and nurturing. I can translate my experiences through my writing and produce a unique and meaningful work of art. And in doing so, I can reach out again, in the same way as I have done with my blog...I can touch the hands of those like me who are have been, or currently are, fighting the same battle as I have fought for the past 8 years. Begonia does, as the third book in my trilogy reveal, recover from her ED and makes that crucial and fundamental recognition which I want all of you who are reading this to realise, too. You are beautiful, you are worth it, you deserve life and you should never, never let anyone - including your ED - let you think otherwise. So strive to be what you want to be. Love, laugh, live...open your eyes and see the sunlight streaming through your bedroom window like liquid gold. Dip your feet into the waters of the ocean and feel the spine-tingling coolness against your skin. Walk amongst the primroses and the new green shoots of spring and hear the birds call to you from the trees. Your life is worth more than a treasure trove of diamonds and you deserve to live it the way you want it to be. :)
Friday, 28 November 2014
The demon in my head.
You can't do it.
You can't eat all that. That's almost twice the amount you used to eat. That's so much compared to what normal people eat.
You are going to be so fat.
Anyone would think you're pregnant...the size of your belly!!
Go for the smaller option...have that tiny piece of bread. Eat the apple instead of the yoghurt. Pick the crusty piece off the top of your pasta...you don't like the hard bits.
You don't like soup - the only thing you like for lunch is your roll with the filling. No you don't like grated parmesan...you never did, why should you now? No, you don't want any more peanut butter, put the lid back on the jar NOW.
Just a few of the many, many different "orders" of the demon inside my own head...that being the ED of course.
Many people describe it as a voice...and for me, its the exact same; maybe even more. It's like a horrible little fiend inside me...transforming me from the inside which then in turn affects the exterior...messing with my head and making me think abnormal is normal, that small is big, that fullness is fat. And it's been with me for so, so long. It's as if...as if it really has become part of me.
But no - it may be part of me alright. But I am not going to completely and wholly defined by my ED. At the moment I feel like my head is a battlefield of conflicting, furious emotions. And I suppose a battle is taking place inside me - between the real Emmy and the ED. And I am more determined than ever before to not be the first to surrender this time.
I just wish it wasn't this hard...those lyrics of that Coldplay song The Scientist really ring true for me now. Nobody said it was easy. But no one ever said it would be so hard. This morning was just a prime example. I had my first snack of the day, toast and lots of peanut butter...fine. And then I wanted to walk. (or should that be...my ED wanted me to walk?) And I was seized with a sudden fit of anxiety. I knew I couldn't...that I shouldn't...but I felt as if I was being consumed by a desperate, irresistible pull to slip on my shoes and pound down the lane and never look back...to walk away from all my cares and tread them into dust beneath my feet.
I can do it...
I CAN eat all that yummy, gorgeous food. What's the worst that can happen...it will make me strong and healthy.
I am pretty. True, my belly is full...it might be rather bloated right now but that won't be forever. I have big blue eyes and pretty dark blonde hair with the fair streaks in it.
Why not give that a try? I know, I never used to like it a s a child, but...people's tastebuds do change over time.
I AM going to have a bit more bread. A bit more cheese. A big chocolate Oreo to dip in my hot chocolate. I am worth it. I deserve to eat the foods I love.
I'm trying...and learning...to replace that voice with an entirely different one...my own voice! And the voices of my family and friends and my readers...all gently directing me towards making the right choices. If only, this demon of mine can be just driven out of me in the blink of an eye, like the real ones you read about in horror stories and such like: when a demon or fiend is exorcised from a possessed victim. But this isn't quite so simple as that...no. But am I a victim...am I possessed? Not anymore, I say. And one day the voice will be driven away forever...I believe that now with all my heart. One day I will be haunted for no longer.
You can't eat all that. That's almost twice the amount you used to eat. That's so much compared to what normal people eat.
You are going to be so fat.
Anyone would think you're pregnant...the size of your belly!!
Go for the smaller option...have that tiny piece of bread. Eat the apple instead of the yoghurt. Pick the crusty piece off the top of your pasta...you don't like the hard bits.
You don't like soup - the only thing you like for lunch is your roll with the filling. No you don't like grated parmesan...you never did, why should you now? No, you don't want any more peanut butter, put the lid back on the jar NOW.
Just a few of the many, many different "orders" of the demon inside my own head...that being the ED of course.
Many people describe it as a voice...and for me, its the exact same; maybe even more. It's like a horrible little fiend inside me...transforming me from the inside which then in turn affects the exterior...messing with my head and making me think abnormal is normal, that small is big, that fullness is fat. And it's been with me for so, so long. It's as if...as if it really has become part of me.
But no - it may be part of me alright. But I am not going to completely and wholly defined by my ED. At the moment I feel like my head is a battlefield of conflicting, furious emotions. And I suppose a battle is taking place inside me - between the real Emmy and the ED. And I am more determined than ever before to not be the first to surrender this time.
I just wish it wasn't this hard...those lyrics of that Coldplay song The Scientist really ring true for me now. Nobody said it was easy. But no one ever said it would be so hard. This morning was just a prime example. I had my first snack of the day, toast and lots of peanut butter...fine. And then I wanted to walk. (or should that be...my ED wanted me to walk?) And I was seized with a sudden fit of anxiety. I knew I couldn't...that I shouldn't...but I felt as if I was being consumed by a desperate, irresistible pull to slip on my shoes and pound down the lane and never look back...to walk away from all my cares and tread them into dust beneath my feet.
I can do it...
I CAN eat all that yummy, gorgeous food. What's the worst that can happen...it will make me strong and healthy.
I am pretty. True, my belly is full...it might be rather bloated right now but that won't be forever. I have big blue eyes and pretty dark blonde hair with the fair streaks in it.
Why not give that a try? I know, I never used to like it a s a child, but...people's tastebuds do change over time.
I AM going to have a bit more bread. A bit more cheese. A big chocolate Oreo to dip in my hot chocolate. I am worth it. I deserve to eat the foods I love.
I'm trying...and learning...to replace that voice with an entirely different one...my own voice! And the voices of my family and friends and my readers...all gently directing me towards making the right choices. If only, this demon of mine can be just driven out of me in the blink of an eye, like the real ones you read about in horror stories and such like: when a demon or fiend is exorcised from a possessed victim. But this isn't quite so simple as that...no. But am I a victim...am I possessed? Not anymore, I say. And one day the voice will be driven away forever...I believe that now with all my heart. One day I will be haunted for no longer.
Thursday, 27 November 2014
Ganache-Elf goes continental :p Rye Bread!!!
I dedicate this post to one of my lovely readers <3 : she was telling me about traditional Russian cuisine and the fact that the Russians love their fresh bread, and that one of her particular favourites was rye bread and a little butter. I have never had this kind of bread before and I was immediately tempted...and at the moment, what with one thing and another, the theraputic effects I associate inextricably with bread-making were very attractrive indeed. And so that's what I did. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, the ocoa-stained apron was once again hastily pulled from the drawer, and the recently bought bag of flour which I had purchased in Tesco the other week was tentatively opened. An aura of mystery surrounded that very bag...it was rye flour, and Ganache Elf has certainly never baked with rye flour before, so I wasn't quite sure what to expect. And you might laugh but as I tore the paper seal, I was enchatnted - instantly. Why? because of the aroma that wafted free from that bag as I opened it. Earthy, is how I would best describe it to you. It was divine. A curious sense of excitement overcame me and I immediatly set about transforming that gorgeous-smelling flour into a beautiful load of bread.
And did magic happen? Yes, of course it did. :)
(Ehee...can you see the little gap in the neat piece I cut from the bread? Looks like a little mouse had a nibble at it. That mouse was me, by the way. I was just so excited when I took this from the oven I had to try it straight away! :) )
It was as wonderful as it smelled...a dense, crumbly kind of texture, with a distinctive, almost nutty sort of flavour, with a hint of sweetness lent by the addition of one of my favourite ever baking ingredients...that extremely decadent concoction known as black treacle. ;) And so now I find myself in as much awe of Russian baking as much as I am for the French. And now find myself torn between the light and airy baguette and this more unusual but equally delicious cousin...well anyway, I think you all can tell what my protein-snack was today ;) rye bread slathered in peanut butter....yummyyyyyy <3
And so here is my recipe...and can I take this opportunity to say a bigggg thank you to my special reader <3 she is AMAZING and I dedicate this whole post to her <3 <3 <3
And so here is my recipe...and can I take this opportunity to say a bigggg thank you to my special reader <3 she is AMAZING and I dedicate this whole post to her <3 <3 <3
- 350 g wholegrain rye flour
- 100 g strong white bread flour
- 2 tbsp black treacle
- 1 tsp instant yeast (or a 7g satchet should do grand. :)
- 1 tsp salt
- 1 tsp light brown soft sugar
- About 300 ml warm water
- About 2 tbsp olive oil + a little extra
- Sieve the white flourand salt into a bowl and add the rye flour. (i didn't bother sieving the rye flour because there are bits in it anyway that wont go through the sieve.)
- Stir in sugar and yeast. Add the treacle to the warm water. (Tip: use a heated tablespoon to measure out the treacle, it makes it alot easier to handle. :)
- make a well in the centre of the dry ingredients and pour in the liquid. Add in the 2 tbsp olive oil.
- Mix together with your hands to form a soft ball of dough. It shouldn't be too moist, but it shouldn't be too dry either: just soft and slightly smooth to the touch, though because of the rye flour it won't feel as smooth as ordinary bread dough. Anyway, if it feels to dry add a little more water, and if it's a little too much on the sticky side add a little more flour.
- Pour a little oil on your worktop. Spread it out with your hand, and then turn the dough out onto the greased surface.
- Knead for about 8-10 minutes. Don't worry if it doesn't feel quite so elasticy as normal bread dough. Grease a clean bowl and place the dough in it, and cover with greased clingfilm.
- Place the bowl in a warm, draught-free place to rise. because the dough is denser and heavier than other doughs, this might take much longer than you might expect: about 2 or 3 hours at least, maybe even four if it's not particularly warm. It was cold here in Ireland today, hence my dough took about three and a half hours to rise!
- Line a baking tray with baking paper, or if it's non-stick you might just want to grease it. Give the dough a punch to knock out the air, and then turn onto the work surface again. Knead briefly for a few minutes.
- Shape the dough into a smooth-sided, oval-shaped round. Do this by rolling it gently back and forth on the worktop into a rugby ball shape before gently pressing it down with the palms of your hands. Place the round on the baking tray. If you like, mark a deep ridge in the top of the load using the blade of a very sharp knife.
- Cover with greased clingfilm one more and leave to rise for a second time. Again this will take longer than normal bread dough...about 2 hours, or even longer if it's a cold day. Mine took roughly 2 and a half.
- Preheat the oven to 210c/190 c fan.
- Remove cling film and bake your loaf for about 20-30 minutes. Check after 20 minutes to make sure if isn't getting too dark. test for doneness by tapping on the base of the loaf - it should sound hollow.
- Remove from the oven and cool on a wire rack. If you like a lovely soft crust like I do, then wrap securely in a clean tea towel while it cools.
- It is gorgeous eaten warm...serve it as an accompaniment to soup or with cheese, or perhaps with smoked salmon and scrambled eggs for a posh lunch. Or, alternatively you might prefer to eat it on its own, with a little jam or honey or peanut butter..or, as my dear reader suggested, with a thin slice of butter as they do in Russia. I would suggest the best way to cut this bread would be first to slice off the top and bottom edges, and then cut the loaf in half.
- Then, slice off even sized-pieces off the shorter cut side of each half, as thick or as thin as you like. :) Any leftover pieces can be frozen and taken out as required, heated in the oven or the microwave if you like to eat your bread warm. :)
Wednesday, 26 November 2014
My NEW meal plan (again!! ;) ) but never fear...it still includes hot choc!! ;)
Well OF COURSE it does. ;) why shouldn't it? I'm still sticking to my old argument that my hot choc IS helping me in my gradual weight increase. After all there's lots of protein and calcium in all that milk. :)
I sat and thought a bit about how I could increase my food intake yesterday. And yep...it was hard, to swallow the fact that in order to gain more, that means yet even more food, more fullness, more anxiety...I would need to be stronger and braver than I ever had been before. I admit, I freely admit, I felt very afraid and apprehensive and, at one point, pretty defeatist. I can't increase it any more. I feel sick and bloated enough at the moment as it is. I can't gain anymore than I already have...it's unfair of the, to think I should or can. I can't!!! I was on the verge of tears again but I opened up to Mam and felt an immense sense of relief afterwards. Then I turned on my laptop, looked at my Cocoa-Stained Apron, and read the supportive, kind, motivating mail and comments from my lovely, lovely readers (you know who you are <3 ), and then I chatted to my friends on Facebook...and I thought...everyone is behind you, Emmy...you can't turn back now. They want you to be strong, they know you can beat this!! And I DON'T, as I've said before, want my Cocoa-Stained Apron to become a blog that tells the story of a girl who failed. Who failed to conquer her demons and just gave in to the voices in her head.
it's hard of course, to make a meal plan for yourself, without the advice of a dietician or a doctor...but this is only temporary, of course. Once I'm getting the medical advice and support I need, I will receive professional advice on what I actually need to eat more of in order to further restore my weight and help nurse my body back to full health. But for now, I suppose, I just need to focus on eating wel, regularly, and plenty. And yes, of course I can eat the foods I love the most. Hot choc being one of those, of course. :)
So here is my new meal plan. Looking at it now, it is hard to believe that, less than half a year ago, the same girl who is now following this little dietary menu of her own creation assumed it was perfectly ok to walk about 2 hours a day and live off, most days, a meagre bowl of cereal, skimmed milk, fruit, a dry bread roll, a miniscule bowl of pasta in the evening, and maybe a bit of chocolate or ice cream. It really is hard to believe, that I WAS that same girl...and I know that, whatever happens to me now, I never want to go back there again. That wasn't a life...and I was more closer to death than I ever, ever could have comprehended. And I realise that fully now. I know I need food, I know I need to gain, and I know, every time I sit down to tuck into a delicious meal or snuggle up on the sofa with my hot choc and biccies or my snack...that my body is silently thanking me, for learning to take care of it once again. :)
Now at one time, eating all of this would have been unthinkable to me. And yesterday when I wrote all this I had my doubts..that voice was telling me, no, how could you eat all that. But screw the voice...I know I need food, I know I need to eat - regularly, well, and plenty. And there is absolutely NOTHING here that I don't like. So that makes it that one bit easier. So instead of sitting around worrying and feeling sorry for myself I am just going to try and make the most of the time I have left before my assessment...to take the time to focus on myself, to do the things I enjoy doing, to try new foods and help my body get used to eating just that bit more, the crucial bit more that it needs. :)
I sat and thought a bit about how I could increase my food intake yesterday. And yep...it was hard, to swallow the fact that in order to gain more, that means yet even more food, more fullness, more anxiety...I would need to be stronger and braver than I ever had been before. I admit, I freely admit, I felt very afraid and apprehensive and, at one point, pretty defeatist. I can't increase it any more. I feel sick and bloated enough at the moment as it is. I can't gain anymore than I already have...it's unfair of the, to think I should or can. I can't!!! I was on the verge of tears again but I opened up to Mam and felt an immense sense of relief afterwards. Then I turned on my laptop, looked at my Cocoa-Stained Apron, and read the supportive, kind, motivating mail and comments from my lovely, lovely readers (you know who you are <3 ), and then I chatted to my friends on Facebook...and I thought...everyone is behind you, Emmy...you can't turn back now. They want you to be strong, they know you can beat this!! And I DON'T, as I've said before, want my Cocoa-Stained Apron to become a blog that tells the story of a girl who failed. Who failed to conquer her demons and just gave in to the voices in her head.
it's hard of course, to make a meal plan for yourself, without the advice of a dietician or a doctor...but this is only temporary, of course. Once I'm getting the medical advice and support I need, I will receive professional advice on what I actually need to eat more of in order to further restore my weight and help nurse my body back to full health. But for now, I suppose, I just need to focus on eating wel, regularly, and plenty. And yes, of course I can eat the foods I love the most. Hot choc being one of those, of course. :)
So here is my new meal plan. Looking at it now, it is hard to believe that, less than half a year ago, the same girl who is now following this little dietary menu of her own creation assumed it was perfectly ok to walk about 2 hours a day and live off, most days, a meagre bowl of cereal, skimmed milk, fruit, a dry bread roll, a miniscule bowl of pasta in the evening, and maybe a bit of chocolate or ice cream. It really is hard to believe, that I WAS that same girl...and I know that, whatever happens to me now, I never want to go back there again. That wasn't a life...and I was more closer to death than I ever, ever could have comprehended. And I realise that fully now. I know I need food, I know I need to gain, and I know, every time I sit down to tuck into a delicious meal or snuggle up on the sofa with my hot choc and biccies or my snack...that my body is silently thanking me, for learning to take care of it once again. :)
Emmy’s Yummy New Meal Plan.
7.00 – 8.00 Protein-type snack. Either...
·
Bowl of cereal
·
Bowl of porridge/ready-brek
·
1 slice toast + peanut butter
·
Homemade brown/rye/spelt/soda/milk etc. bread
+ peanut butter (1 or 2 pieces depending on size)
·
Bagel + peanut butter (seeded ones are good for
protein!! J )
·
1 boiled egg – soft or hard boiled.
9.15 – 10.15 Breakfast. Usually might have this option as it
is wthout a doubt my favourite <3 though now and again, maybe I might try
having cereal for protein snack and have an egg on a piece of toast for brek,
yum yum. J
·
1
slice wholemeal/wholegrain/multigrain/seeded toast and peanut butter (about 1
tbsp)
·
Good
bowl of cereal (2 weetabix or equivalent of) or small bowl porridge/ready-brek.
11.00 – 12.45 Hot choc with full-fat
milk. (or on Monday
might have another protein snack because mammy isn’t there to make hot choc… :p (I know, that makes me sound very lazy indeed. But noone makes hot choc quite like Mammy does. ;) )
14.00-14.30 Lunch.
·
1
brown submarine roll/1 toasted white submarine roll/1 soft crusty roll/1 mini
baguette/wholemeal bread/wholemeal toast/bagel/wholemeal bap/soda bread with…
·
Protein
filling: Ham/Turkey/Chicken/Tuna/Pink salmon/Cheddar/Soft
boiled egg/Hardboiled egg/poached egg/Mozzarella/Goat’s cheese/Baked beans/some
kind of soup with…
·
A
little salad: usually tomato, but beetroot etc is nice too. J
·
Afterwards:
125 g full fat yoghurt/banana/apple/melon/pear/toasted cashews/almonds
16.00 Little snack: apple/banana/melon/pear/toasted cashews/almonds/125g
full fat yoghurt
17.00-18.30 Hot
choc/Ovaltine/Horlicks + little snack.
·
Biccies
(of course. :p)
·
Toasted
cashews
·
Almonds
·
Homemade
Soda/milk/spelt/rye/brown bread with peanut butter
·
3
tbsp homemade granola
·
Homemade
granola bar
·
Toast
+ peanut butter
·
Small
bowl of cereal
19.30 – 21.00 Dinner + banana
pudding. Dinner for me varies. it might be some kind of pasta - tuna and pesto, lasagne, bacon and tomato, tuna and mozzarella, salmon, etc.... - with bread and salad. Or it might be chicken, fish, or quorn with potatoes and vegetables. It varies all the time really. And pudding, haha well that usually is my all time favorutie combination...chopped banana, custard or icecream, and lots of chocolate sprinkled on top. :)
22.00 – 23.00 Hot
choc/Ovaltine/Horlicks. J
Snack ideas for when in the car etc. J
·
Goat’s
cheese bun + peanut butter
·
½ can
rice pudding/homemade rice pudding
·
Wholemeal
scone + jam
·
Fruit
scone + jam
·
Teacake
+ jam/honey
·
Cereal
bar
·
Granola
bar
·
Ice
cream (bowl or cone)
·
Hot
cross bun + jam
·
Blueberry
muffin
·
Peanut
butter cupcake
·
Pack of
Belvitas.
Now at one time, eating all of this would have been unthinkable to me. And yesterday when I wrote all this I had my doubts..that voice was telling me, no, how could you eat all that. But screw the voice...I know I need food, I know I need to eat - regularly, well, and plenty. And there is absolutely NOTHING here that I don't like. So that makes it that one bit easier. So instead of sitting around worrying and feeling sorry for myself I am just going to try and make the most of the time I have left before my assessment...to take the time to focus on myself, to do the things I enjoy doing, to try new foods and help my body get used to eating just that bit more, the crucial bit more that it needs. :)
Tuesday, 25 November 2014
A new day...and a new determination to beat my ED...FOREVER. :)
It's a beautiful new morning of a beautiful new day. The grass of my garden is covered with a sparkly, glistening cover of dew as if a hand reached down from the heavens and scattered a multitude of tiny diamonds on the grass.
The last of autumn's leaves shiver on the now almost bare branches of the beech trees, some surrendering themselves to the caress of the breeze and letting themselves drift gently downwards to nestle in the coppery carpet beneath each parent tree. The hawthorn and the holly are laden with blood-red berries; the blackthorn proudly bares its blue-black sloes.
Another beautiful new day in this beautiful, wonderful world.
And I am happy to be here today, a living, breathing organism. Being able to see all of these things around me with my own eyes. Being able to walk amongst those trees and hedgerows, hear the birds calling sweetly, feel the cold air nip at my ears and redden my cheeks.
If I had given in to my eating disorder...well, I would certainly not have been able to do any of these things here today.
If I don't continue to fight this said eating disorder... well it's more than likely I won't be able to do any of those things ever again, either.
Rather, in either case, instead of being here at home where I belong, surrounded by the beauty and splendour of nature, with my loved ones near me and my friends, and with my kitchen door ever open for me to happily pass through, where I can carelessly spend hour upon hour kneading dough and mixing cake batter and splodging my faithful, white-washed apron with yet even more unsightly stains...instead of being here, if I just give in now, well, I know all too well where I will end up.
(me and Benny...that was about three years ago now. The summer before I went to college and started restricting and starving myself.
I know now...it is, well, a race against time I guess. My eating disorder assessment will be in at least a month's time my doctor told me. So....there is still time. If I take care of myself now, fight my ED with every fibre of my being, eat plenty and regularly, and limit my exercise to just gentle, 5 minute walks with Benny in the little paddock beside our house...then I might still have a chance.
I might not have to go into hospital, where I know I will be very, very unhappy. I know, if I do end up there, it will be for the best...it will be where I can get the help, the support, the medical attention that I need, if my test results dictate that that is what I need. But no one wants to end up in hospital. No one wants to have to sit around all day with nurses constantly watching you, making sure you eat. No one wants to be monitored twenty-four seven and have people stare at you as you eat your meals. No one wants to be taken away from their home and the people and animals they love.
And so let the battle commence. I've made my decision, now...I am not going to let this shitty disease win. I am absolutely determined to prove to my doctor that I can do this. That I don't need to be hospitalised...that with the out-patient support, I will become healthy again, and fix up my messed-up mindset, as well as restore my weight.
I can do this...I know that I can, and will, be strong. My body may be weak but my will to succeed is anything but. So no more tears. No more stressing and fits of crying and weeping and telling myself that I am useless and worthless and that I can't do it. it is undefeatable. It is NOT. And I am going to prove it to everyone. To my loved ones, to my doctors, to the whole world...and to, of course, myself. :)
The last of autumn's leaves shiver on the now almost bare branches of the beech trees, some surrendering themselves to the caress of the breeze and letting themselves drift gently downwards to nestle in the coppery carpet beneath each parent tree. The hawthorn and the holly are laden with blood-red berries; the blackthorn proudly bares its blue-black sloes.
Another beautiful new day in this beautiful, wonderful world.
And I am happy to be here today, a living, breathing organism. Being able to see all of these things around me with my own eyes. Being able to walk amongst those trees and hedgerows, hear the birds calling sweetly, feel the cold air nip at my ears and redden my cheeks.
If I had given in to my eating disorder...well, I would certainly not have been able to do any of these things here today.
If I don't continue to fight this said eating disorder... well it's more than likely I won't be able to do any of those things ever again, either.
Rather, in either case, instead of being here at home where I belong, surrounded by the beauty and splendour of nature, with my loved ones near me and my friends, and with my kitchen door ever open for me to happily pass through, where I can carelessly spend hour upon hour kneading dough and mixing cake batter and splodging my faithful, white-washed apron with yet even more unsightly stains...instead of being here, if I just give in now, well, I know all too well where I will end up.
(me and Benny...that was about three years ago now. The summer before I went to college and started restricting and starving myself.
I know now...it is, well, a race against time I guess. My eating disorder assessment will be in at least a month's time my doctor told me. So....there is still time. If I take care of myself now, fight my ED with every fibre of my being, eat plenty and regularly, and limit my exercise to just gentle, 5 minute walks with Benny in the little paddock beside our house...then I might still have a chance.
I might not have to go into hospital, where I know I will be very, very unhappy. I know, if I do end up there, it will be for the best...it will be where I can get the help, the support, the medical attention that I need, if my test results dictate that that is what I need. But no one wants to end up in hospital. No one wants to have to sit around all day with nurses constantly watching you, making sure you eat. No one wants to be monitored twenty-four seven and have people stare at you as you eat your meals. No one wants to be taken away from their home and the people and animals they love.
And so let the battle commence. I've made my decision, now...I am not going to let this shitty disease win. I am absolutely determined to prove to my doctor that I can do this. That I don't need to be hospitalised...that with the out-patient support, I will become healthy again, and fix up my messed-up mindset, as well as restore my weight.
I can do this...I know that I can, and will, be strong. My body may be weak but my will to succeed is anything but. So no more tears. No more stressing and fits of crying and weeping and telling myself that I am useless and worthless and that I can't do it. it is undefeatable. It is NOT. And I am going to prove it to everyone. To my loved ones, to my doctors, to the whole world...and to, of course, myself. :)
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