I hardly even eat bagels, but for some reason I’ve been fascinated with the idea of making bagels for years. It just always seemed like too much of a hassle so I never bothered.

Well, this is the year of getting things done. Crossing items off my multiple to-do lists.

So yeah, I made bagels. Whole wheat black sesame, poppy seed, and cinnamon & raisin bagels.

I used this recipe.

I made dough. YES, ME! Then I let it rise, separated them and formed bagel shapes.

For some reason, the boiling part always intimidated me the most when it came to bagel-making. Turns out it was really easy… now that I have a really big pot to work with in the kitchen.

Why yes, I did use a chopstick to pull my boiling bagels-to-be out of the pot. What?

I sliced a cinnamon raisin one open, bagel-style… and then I took a picture with a dark shadow in the right corner because I still can’t use my point and shoot properly. And I’m still taking pictures inside with crappy indoor lighting.

And then I made an egg, arugula, and green tomato chutney bagel sandwich with my panini weight press and ate it on a two-storey Toronto tour bus. Yes, I grew up in Toronto. I’ll tell you that story another time.

The end.

In the years that followed, I always looked forward to spending time with him and his family when we’d visit Hong Kong. He never let on how busy he was and instead always welcomed us with open arms to take us to the best restaurants and markets in the city. Every single memory of Hong Kong involves seeing him and his family. It was always a given that he’d take care of us while we were there.

Of all the memories I have of my uncle though, that time we spent in his car listening to the Fugees always stands out in my mind.

I heard he sang a good song…

He’s been on my mind a lot these days, and this past Saturday, I dedicated my yoga practice to him.  It was one of those perfect practices where I managed to clear my mind from everything else going on in my life and focus on following along with the class. Silently, I allowed myself to feel his loss and reflect on how much his sudden death shook me.

I grieved. Again.

At first I couldn’t figure out what made this time, this class different… until I realized afterwards that in five days, it’ll be one year since we lost him. His death was far too sudden – his diagnosis and death were only a few weeks apart.

I still remember talking to my dad as he told me over the phone that his brother was gone. I still remember feeling nauseous, numb, empty and indescribably sad. I still remember spending several hours crying alone in my apartment, trying to make sense of it all.

His passing was the catalyst that forced me to re-evaluate my life, surroundings, and question whether I was really living.

So this weekend I thought about it. Really, really thought about it.

And I’m proud to say: To the best of my ability.

Tomorrow, you are getting on a plane to move to the other side of the country.

To say that you are a best friend is an understatement. To say that you are one of the most important and influential people in my life comes closer to the truth. I’ve written and re-written all the reasons why I’m torn between feeling happy and sad for your departure. The truth is that there are no words. So I will simply say that you are incredible, and one of the happiest people I have ever met. I don’t know how you do it sometimes, but it’s damn infectious.

Do you remember the other day when I emailed you in dismay after taste-testing my second failed attempt at making an edible dinner? I confessed feeling an overwhelming sense of fear that these “failures” were actually a metaphor for other things happening in my life. In response, you said to me:

It is actually kind of cute that you messed dinners up because you’re the cooking queen! I hope you write a blog about it – like the book “everybody poops” it will be “everybody messes up some dishes”

So, M?

This blog post is for you.

Thanks for reminding me that everybody messes up sometimes, and that the best course of action is to laugh about it — and maybe write a blog post about it.

That was the first and last time I went to Rome.

I still remember the night I arrived. Tired and a little lonely, I instantly jumped at the chance to explore the city despite everything being closed with some new friends that I made at the hostel I was staying at.

I would find out over the course of several days just how rich the city was in the daylight. I would walk through the famed churches, galleries, and museums that are splashed over every tourist book in existence. I would see countless paintings by master’s with my own eyes and marvel at their work. I would discover how luscious real gelato could taste, and I would never (ever) forgive myself for not trying that rectangular slice of pizza.

And yet… one of my most poignant memories of Rome doesn’t exist within any of my day time travels. The most prominent image that comes to mind when I look back on those days I spent in Rome doesn’t revolve around the time I spent at the Vatican museum where I was surprised to spot a Van Gogh painting, or the Trevi Fountain that I stopped to eat my lunch at (and returned later for that famed gelato). It doesn’t have to do with the Castel Sant’Angelo that I spent hours exploring one afternoon.

One of my favourite images of Rome was captured during that first walk I took on the night I arrived.

There was something about the light shining through those columns that caught me off guard.

There was something about their grandeur that I adored.

There was something about the way the light poured over the stairs and taunted me for not having the courage to explore what lay beyond those columns.

That first night, I saw a different side of Rome. It was beautiful, romantic, and frozen in time.

There was something about that scene that I really loved.

And so, I painted it.

She said she’d walk in the dark. He said he’d walk her there.

When they finally set out, she said there wasn’t enough time to walk. He said he’d find a way to get her there.

As they waited for the streetcar, he said she might have to make an alternate plan.

She said she’d make one if she missed class and that there was no point in panicking or worrying.

If it’s meant to be, it will be. 

The night before, she lay down for a few minutes and got lost in her own thoughts.

She said to herself: I will let go and let life take care of me.

The next morning, she put her words into practice.

He said he’d help her get to class; he did.

And the class? It was incredible.

I was tired of obsessing over what I might have done differently to change the outcome of the situation.

In retrospect, I could have been more forgiving of myself. At the time, all I could think about was distracting myself from feeling sad. I just wanted to move forward.

One day, I picked up a paint brush.

When you finish this painting, you will be past this, I told myself.

At first, I didn’t know where to start. Then I didn’t have the technique. It wasn’t coming out the way I had envisioned it in my head. I told myself all the things that I would do as soon as I had gotten over this hurdle. I told myself that I would be free from pain and feelings of abandonment.

I allowed myself to soak every argument, every pain point, and every letter I knew I’d never send.

Every time I felt sadness, I returned to the painting determined to finish it and feel ready to move on. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to finish the painting and eventually I stopped trying.

Three years later, the painting still sits unfinished. I never even signed it.

Somewhere along the way, that chapter of my life ended and I stopped looking back.

For that reason, I’d say it’s finished. And I’ve never been happier.

After a few minutes of standing there, it became clear that none of the five employees standing around were going to come over to serve us.

Her Canadian approach:

Calmly walking over to the other side of the counter where all five employees were facing to ask them to come over and help us.

His Australian approach:

Waving his hand  and showcasing his exasperation to everyone standing nearby to get an employee’s attention by gradually raising his voice.

I’m not even going to get into detail about the fact that he was wearing a thick Canada Goose hat that when worn, has the ability to mute the sound of your own voice. I’m not.

Which approach would you have taken?

What do you want to do for dinner?

Truthfully, I was feeling lazy and unmotivated to cook. The thought of heating up leftovers again for the fourth day in a row sounded miserable, but buying something when there was already food in the fridge sounded worse. In an attempt to feign enthusiasm that I hoped would be contagious, I “cheerfully” suggested having leftovers. My suggestion was met with a long pause and:

Yeah… cool, I’ll just pick up a burrito after my run.

Right.

(source)

Without the pressure of cooking for someone else, I began to throw anything that caught my eye into a pan once I got home. Sweet potatoes were softened with coconut oil before fresh mango and kale were added into the mix. A little tomato sauce, leftover roasted chicken, and an egg with lots of smoked paprika rounded out my “leftovers” meal.

When we sat down to enjoy our respective meals, I innocently offered a sample of my food. The words that followed were music to my ears:

Like it? I could eat this entire bowl! 

I’ll be damned if a store-bought burrito gets chosen over my food again.*

*I may or may not have sampled the offending burrito. I may or may not have liked it… those details are irrelevant to this story.

It’s about a girl who spent twenty something years sedentary and unsure of how to change. It’s about a girl who followed all the supposed rules for progressing through life and wound up feeling detached and disenchanted.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

It’s about a girl who chose to wake up, step off the conventional path, and take charge of her own story.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

This blog is an exploration of her story through food, exercise, and art.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

~ Robert Frost

I’m excited to share my stories with you.

xo

Today, I present to you, the first guest post on Fueling for Fitness. Enjoy!

♦♦♦

Tonight was the first night in weeks that I haven’t had dessert. This wasn’t a self conscious decision. I’ve been in bad habits, I haven’t had the usual excuses like being busy with work, or finishing training late.

Nope, it’s mainly because I’ve been lazy. Injury ridden, down on confidence, and ultimately lazy.

Then tonight I remembered the feeling of being engaged with cooking, it feels like you’re taking control of your life again. I was reminded that what food you put into your body directly affects your health, your energies, and suddenly there was no need to desire junk food. After a satisfying home cooked meal I didn’t feel like dessert.

When you crave junk food, start cooking some Sautéed Garlic. I dare you to still crave!

Soup is a great way of keeping up your nutrients, satisfying your tastebuds, and filling up on something substantially smaller than normal meal portions! Soup is your friend. I used to neglect soup as a child, my mum (god bless her) would always water it down too much, and throw in too many conflicting vegetables in there. I loved a lot of what she cooked but soup wasn’t one of her strong points.

In recent years I’ve given soup a 2nd chance, and have discovered that they’re about more than “throwing everything into a pot”. I’ve come to appreciate the punch of flavours and different blends you can create. Tomato soup is my first attempt at learning “How to master soup”. Inspired by a weekend of caring for my sick girlfriend (who still looks beautiful through the whole ordeal).

Ingredients

• 1 x Tablespoon vegetable Oil
• 1 x Onion – diced
• 4 x cloves Garlic – minced
• 6-8 x fresh Tomatoes, largely diced
• 500 mls (17 ounces) liquid Vegetable Stock
• 1 x Tablespoon vegetarian Worcestershire sauce
• 100 mls (3.5 ounces) Tomato Paste
• 1 x Teaspoon Salt
• 1/2 x Cup Parsley
• 1/4 x Cup Rosemary
• 1 x Teaspoon ground black Pepper
• 1 x Tablespoon smoked Paprika

Steps

1) Start with the smell-arousing process of cooking some Garlic captured in the image above. Turn the pot onto about 40%, add Oil, Garlic, and Rosemary. Lovingly stir for 1-2 minutes until slightly browned, mmm.

2) Add the diced Onion into the mix, stirring occasionally for about 5 minutes. Again, until slightly browned.

3)  Now turn pot to low heat (20%) and add in Tomatoes and Stock. I like high quality ingredients, it truly makes a difference…so I prefer liquid stock in all my cooking! This is a controversial topic, I may lose my seat at the UN. A lot of people like stock cubes.

4) Stir like crazy for 10 minutes, and try to get the blend as smooth as possible. If you have one of those blenders that you stick right in the pot even better!

Beautiful colors and aromas

5) Taste how awesome it is. Seriously, tasting is an underestimated step to cooking. Take some time out to taste it along the way (I could be wrong in everything I’ve told you and you’ll never know until the end)

6) Add the remainder of the ingredients, the Parsley, Tomato Paste, Paprika, Black Pepper, and Worcestershire sauce.

Parsley and a big knife

7) Simmer for 30-60 minutes, tasting along the way to see if it’s too strong or too bland (impossible).

Optional Extra

Bread is a great compliment to soup! As an optional extra prepare a pre-made fresh Turkish bread (mine came with red potato and pear already grilled on there, from Ace bakery), and lay some baby spinach, some kind of sharp cheese like pecorino, and fresh parsley. Cook in the oven for 25 minutes on low heat. Mmmmm!

Bread is SO good it should be the main course

Optional Extra Extra

Have some Rittersport chocolate for dessert – damn that stuff is good!

- Mike, the loving boyfriend