Archive for month: February, 2015

I have seen several articles lately referring to the Paleo way of eating as a “fad diet.” Whoa! Anyone who knows me knows I don’t believe in diets. Not for this babe. Weigh-ins? Counting calories? Being obsessed with the numbers on a scale?

No thank you.

I say good day.

Buh bye.

I have got to know many amazing people who follow a Paleo way of eating through social media, some I have interacted with and some I have admired from afar and several friends are now on board too. I’ve learned about their health struggles or those of their family members – the majority of which have some form of autoimmunity. All of them approached what they were eating and how they were eating for pretty much the same reason: They were out of options through traditional means to heal themselves or their loved ones and they needed to take matters into their own hands. Food became the greatest healing tool in their toolboxes.

 
The big factor in all of this “diet fad” talk some media outlets aren’t seeing? That Paleo cooking initially adopted for health and healing became the joy of cooking. The thrill of concocting new dishes. The fun of getting old timey in the kitchen and back to basics and flavourful simplicity. The enjoyment of getting in touch with food that doesn’t come ready to go in a bag or box filled with ingredients we can’t pronounce. There is a resurgence in food creativity that leaves me smiling. Leaves me wanting to go out and buy a slew of cookbooks. Makes me want to have 1960’s potluck dinner party throw downs. A movement that has me experimenting in the kitchen and coming up with stuff that 75% of the time is pretty damn good (with the other 25% being comical – yet edible – errors).

 
When I would visit my grandparents, I don’t recall ever going to a grocery store with them. We would visit the butcher. The baker. We would visit a man who sold honey out of his basement. Milk and ice cream would come from down the street and vegetables popped up from their garden. Fruit was picked fresh from their pear tree and condiments were to be found in the cellar after pickling. Neighbours would swap fruits and vegetables and sometimes homemade wine. Sometimes rum would be exchanged for an exceptionally large eggplant. Everyone’s specialty was celebrated, acknowledged and supported. I am sure they went to the grocery store sometimes but for minimal purchases. I remember asking my grandfather why they didn’t buy bread at the grocery store and he looked at me quizzically and said,”Why would we do that? We know this is baked fresh daily. We know what they put into it. We know the baker. ”

 

Would my grandmother understand me using coconut flour to bake? Maybe not. But I know that if I told her I was getting back to a way of eating, cooking and baking like she did in the old country, in which the ingredients are simple, healthy and basic without preservatives, she’d say that’s a smart idea. If I told her I was getting back to a way of life like they had in which they rarely got sick and that I have not had a cold or flu in 4 years she’d think it to be pretty smart. If I told my grandparents I regularly go to farmers’ markets and like to know where my food comes from and who is creating it, they would say,”When are we going?”

 

Getting old timey has brought back a love of cooking for me. It’s made me excited to experiment with new recipes. It has me traipsing to the library every week trying to work through my long list of cookbook holds. It’s also introduced me to new people and their stories. It’s brought me together with people around the world who feel joyful for empowering themselves and their families and revitalizing their health. I think for the majority of those who follow a Paleo lifestyle, they would chuckle if you suggested they were on a diet. It would kinda sound ridiculous actually. And I have yet to hear of one talking about counting calories…

 
So, if getting old timey is considered a fad so be it. I am now going to hunker down to savour my Paleo chocolate cupcake with icing that I baked last night. Super healthy – ridiculously delicious – and my body agrees. There is energy and joy in my food and in its preparation. I always said my grandma’s cooking tasted so good because she put so much love into it. It is so true. Every meal is a gift to heal and is a way to infuse joy into our lives. Bring on the old timey I say…