Morning Glory

Six weeks into the diet, I'm finding my food creativity coming back. Last week I modified a traditional Morning Glory muffin recipe to be GAPS-friendly. Instead of wheat flour I used coconut and sunflower seed flour; instead of sugar I used honey; the rest: apples carrots, pineapple, pumpkin seeds, eggs, baking soda, raisins, sunflower oil, stayed the same. They didn't rise too high but they tasted delicious! For those wanting the recipe here it is:

GAPS Morning Glory Muffins
1/2 cup coconut flour
3/4 cup sunflower seed flour (raw seeds ground in a coffee grinder)
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda
1 pst. cinnamon
1/2 cup raisins
1/4 cup pumpkin seeds (or nuts of your choice)
1/4 cup shredded coconut
1 cup finely grated carrots
1/2 an apple, peeled and grated
1/2 cup chopped pineapple
1/2 cup honey
2 eggs, beaten
1/2 cup sunflower oil
2 tsp minced fresh ginger (or 1 tsp powdered)

Mix wet ingredients are dry ingredients separately then combine. Bake in muffin tins at 350° for 35 minutes. Enjoy!

A Perspective on Time

I must admit that when I first heard about the GAPS diet I was floored and dismayed by the recommended 18 month duration (and more for some patients). A year and a half? That long? Really? I couldn't fathom no grains, starches, most beans, and no sugar for that long, I was already restricted in what I could eat. How would I do it? I consoled myself by thinking it would only be a year for me—after all I've been working on my gut issues for years, seven in fact, since my unsolicited affair with Giardia. Surely I was further along in my healing than those still undiagnosed and suffering the worst symptoms.
It's been a month so far and lately I've been thinking about a certain 2 1/2 year-old, a member of my extended community, who has been dealing with Leukemia for over a year now. Just past babyhood when she was diagnosed, her family was given the news that treatment would last 2 years. Two years of chemotherapy, injections, hospital stays and worries over infections. I know there are plenty of people struggling with illness and I'm not trying to compare my diet woes to those in real crisis. I thank G-d for my health all the time. My point in mentioning this family's ordeal is the perception of time. Two years seems like an incredibly long time to endure such hardship. But we do what we have to. I have a choice about my treatment. The adorable toddler does not. So I'm going to try not to think about the process from the beginning as a long arduous hike up a hill, but rather see it from the end—the goal of being completely healthy, at my peak. And rather than count down my time as though a prison sentence, I'm going to count forward, day by day, meal by meal really, and mark progress in accumulating successes, accruing health bucks into my bank account of life. How's that for a lot of mixed metaphors?!
Onward.

The Glory of Apple Crisp

Normally a fall dessert, apple crisp has reentered my life in a spring awakening. Together with my trusty sidekick in all things dessert, my daughter and I threw together a GAPS crisp this afternoon. We were getting a bit tired of the 4pm dessert break of banana ice cream and needed to switch things up. Given that I'd just picked up a whole case of organic apples from my greengrocer (Russo's for you eastern MA folks) and storing them in a tepid basement and expecting them to last is iffy at best, I decided to culinate (not a real word, I know, but seemed fitting)
Here's the recipe: sliced organic Fuji's with a drizzle of honey, covered by a mix of: ground and whole sunflower seeds, coconut flour, mashed dates and a little sunflower oil (the coconut oil would have made it too greasy, I think). A bit of cinnamon and ginger and it was ready to go. One bite and I had the strongest urge to jump into a pile of leaves and throw them skyward. Given that last fall's leaves are composting in the back yard bin, I opted instead for eating another helping of apple crisp.
I'm feeling better day by day, the real reward for being on this strict diet, and happy to have reached the one month milestone. Yay
P.S. My long-awaited kombucha is done! And it is delish! When the main batch was done, I bottled it and added a couple tablespoons of black cherry juice (no sugar added). It fermented two more days in the bottle. I tried some today and it was perfect: just the right amount of fizz, a slight sweet cherry flavor and all the healthy goodness it's reported to have (I'm taking this one on faith since I can't actually see or taste the beneficial bacteria). The next batch will be ginger honey, I think or maybe mango, depending on what strikes my fancy that day. Salut!

Banana 'ice-cream' and Birthday Cake

Still plugging away at the diet but have introduced more foods since the initial first couple weeks of chicken soup and friends. I'm eating salmon and tuna, more veggies and raw fruit in smoothies and snacks. I've also added what I call "Glorious Nuggets of Joy", a spontaneous name that clearly came from desperation for sweet snacky-type things. They're a concoction of mashed dates, shredded coconut, sunflower seeds ground into flour and peanut butter, all rolled into two-bite balls and coated in crushed sunflower seeds. It's amazing how cravings for sweets still persist but not for the traditional baked goods and sugar-laden desserts. These little beauties satisfy that end-of-meal treat that I've missed these past few weeks, but are still well within allowed parameters. The silly name was maybe created to boost their appeal and to delight in the notion that yes, dessert still exists in some form on this diet.
Speaking of dessert, my darling daughter, freshly home from college, shared a new recipe with me— she made me a batch of banana 'ice-cream' which is nothing more than frozen sliced bananas and creamy peanut butter pureed in the blender. OMG, (I usually save that expression for my writing young adult novels), this stuff is spectacular! Totally unexpected! It's creamy and sweet and cold...can't be described, you must try it to believe how good it is. Somehow it's more than mashed frozen baby-food banana. And I'm not just saying that because I can't eat dairy. The commercial coconut milk ice cream has some serious competition on my palate, but it has sugar. Not my new banana whip (must think of a better name).
I baked a real cheesecake for my son's birthday today and though I looked longingly at the creamy middle and graham cracker crust, I instead enjoyed a bowl of the leftover surface decorations: strawberries, raspberries and blackberries. I mixed in some fresh chunks of papaya and I was all set.
Life goes on. Maybe on his next birthday I'll have a big slice.

Fallen Off the Blogger Boat

It's been two weeks on the GAPS diet and I have to say I'm sick of it. Truly. I had been going strong up until now but in the last few days the gas and bloat came back and so did my frustration. If I could hire myself out to fumigate a house with roaches, I'd at least make some money at this, but hanging out in the good company of friends has been embarrassing to say the least. What do you do: pretend nothing has happened and look at something interesting on the wall? look accusingly at any available toddler in the room (should you be so lucky to have one on hand)? or admit that yes it was you who overpowered the air freshener? Thank goodness for the gentle spring breezes that have returned after a sealed-house winter, but my gas (yes, I'm taking ownership here) is a whole 'nother animal. It's hard to know if this unpleasant symptom is due to new food introductions such as raw veggies, and fruits, or if the offending odor is due to die-off of unwelcome bacteria. I think it's the latter because it's there no matter what I eat.
So back to my house reno analogy: let's say I've just pulled up some old brown carpet that covered the living room floor (this part in real life is a true story). The previous multiple owners dating back to 1893, smoked cigars, groomed cats, spilled haggis and beer, sweated out a hundred sit-ups, crawled and had spit-ups, and think of all the bugs that have died right there under their feet! You disturb a hundred years of crud and it's going to smell, not to mention cause a fit of coughing and sneezing (I had to leave the house and not come back until the next day).
Well I can't 'leave' my body, so I'll have to put up with this part of the process. And guess what we found under those rotten shreds of matted brown pile? log-cabin oak floors with a bird's eye maple center! I'll settle for wide-board pine as long as it's structurally sound and smooth to the feet.
Onward, to the dining room...

Talking Shmaltz

I've been thinking about the staple foods that are part of the GAPS introduction diet: chicken soup with vegetables, sauerkraut and chicken fat, or as my parents and grandparents called it: shmaltz. That pale yellow floating blanket that I've always skimmed off the top of my soup and thrown away. Pleh! Bad for you! Good riddance. Well apparently our bodies need saturated animal fat to survive. And my ancestors from eastern Europe, ate plenty of it. Who knew? They did, it seems. My paternal grandfather lived to 102, and boy did he enjoy his shmaltz! Without the aid of nutrition books or the resources of the world wide web, that generation knew enough to eat chicken soup. And sauerkraut. The old common wisdom that when you get sick you should eat chicken soup, has also been proven to be beneficial in more than a hot-soothing-liquid-like-Mom's-homemade kind of way. Here's just one article about the science of chicken soup: http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2007/10/12/the-science-of-chicken-soup/
We also now know that sauerkraut and other fermented foods such as kimchi have an abundance of probiotics, vitamin B and copious quantities of C, all in a form highly available to our bodies. So for now I'll be eating like I'm from the old country.

Day 9: No Whey!

I've followed the GAPS diet, eating my chicken soup as instructed, adding the sauerkraut liquid and one other ingredient: whey. For me this is a huge leap of faith because I haven't had dairy in seven years. Eating even the slightest amount causes days of misery—just not worth it. Dr. Campbell- McBride explains the need for getting our probiotics from food and yoghurt is one of those beneficial products that, those of us with compromised digestive systems, should include on the menu. But she suggests testing for a true milk allergy first and then proceeding with caution. I passed the first test by letting a bit of whey from goat's milk yoghurt dry on my arm. If no rash appeared the next day then it's unlikely there's a strong allergy to dairy. Other tests I've taken in the past have shown the same thing. But I do have a dairy intolerance. Once a few years ago I had some gluten-free pie. The crust, I was told, was also dairy-free, but one bite and my tongue screamed "BUTTER!" I was at a dinner party and couldn't bring myself to spit it in a napkin, so I swallowed, partly curious whether I had gotten over the intolerance after four years of avoiding dairy. The next morning I had my answer. And the next day. And the day after that. One bite sent my gut into a frantic evacuation drill—though this was no drill, it was the real thing. I've since had a healthy fear (if you can call it that) of dairy products lurking in dark cookies and cakes pretending to be benign. So you can imagine how hard it was for me to pour even one tiny teaspoon of whey into my soup. The first day wasn't so bad. Second day: looking promising. Third day: still feeling okay. Whey day four I was gassy and didn't sleep too well. But my optimism said: "It's stress! It's been a crazy week." Happy to believe, I added TWO teaspoonfuls of whey yesterday, day five. Sadly I was up all night with gas cramps. While I won't call the whey test a total failure, I have learned one thing: you can't rush progress. It took decades to get in this sorry shape, it will take more than a week to heal from it. So for now dairy and I are going our separate whey. (Sorry, couldn't resist : ) ). The homemade goat yoghurt in the fridge will get slipped into a smoothie for the dairy eaters in my house. The pizza remains a distant hazy dream.

Day 6 and 7: Relief and a Milestone

Friday was surreal and scary. I woke at 7 to news that one of the Boston Marathon bombing suspects was being chased down in the next town over and authorities were asking us to stay in our locked homes until the situation was resolved. As we watched TV, the events unfolding as slowly as a daytime soap opera, I had this strong urge to quit my diet and eat comfort food—life is short after all. The heck with broth (though I think my words were more emphatic than that), I want REAL food! I settled for adding avocado and papaya to my breakfast of chicken soup and eggs. Not exactly falling off the wagon, but the little voice inside me that said: "Hey, self, look how far you've come since that first miserable day, you've lasted five! And you're feeling better. Don't give up because some lunatic running amok with guns and explosives has pushed your sense of safety and wellbeing to the edge of a precipice." Hmm, good point. "And furthermore, you love avocado and papaya! Say, let's us eat a banana this afternoon, whadaya say?" So I agreed to stay the course. Thousand bowls of soup and all that.
Day 6 found me in services at synagogue. I needed to be with others, not so much to pray because that seemed more appropriate for the prior day's events, but more to be in community. To sit and sing with others who knew exactly how I felt, the sense of disbelief and relief following a whole day of drama or should I say trauma? A fellow congregant family had a bar mitzvah to celebrate and it almost didn't happen due to 'lockdown'. I wanted to be there to celebrate one thirteen year old's journey into adulthood—it seemed a fitting way to ensure that yes, life indeed does go on. The festive luncheon that followed was a buffet of grain-based and starch-filled dishes. But there was fruit salad and I enjoyed berries and melons as if they had been manna from heaven. I didn't even miss the pasta, couscous or potato salad. I had been fed in a different way that morning and I was sated.
Day 7 and I've completed a week on the diet. A Week of GAPS! Yay! A small milestone but one I never thought I'd reach. I've gotten more creative with how I make my soup: thick and stewy, pureed and creamy, broth in a mug with solids on a real plate like normal eaters, and I've started eating the cabbage in my sauerkraut instead of just the sauerkraut juice—whoohoo, roughage! Never take things that need chewing for granted. So on to week 2 (I'm counting in weeks now, it seems). Here's to a peaceful, healing, and uneventful week.

Day 5: No Words

I can't begin to describe today so I won't. I'm still trying to process the thoughts and feelings. Think I'll sleep on it.
Peace and love to all.

Day 4: Where Are You My Sweet?

I'm feeling low today. The Marathon bombings have been in my mind constantly since Monday afternoon. Added to that two relatives and a friend lost their fathers in the past week, one to a tragic car accident. I am desperate to commiserate with my friend Chocolate. I usually do all the talking, Chocolate the listening—it's a good relationship that way. When I'm done I feel much better and Chocolate is, well, still there for me but in a different way. You know what I mean. This diet restricts all grains, all starches—that's right, my other companion, Frenchfries are also not available when I need them. Forbidden are: sugar, maple syrup (my true love, truth be told—I am Canadian after all), the aforementioned chocolate, even the homemade ginger peach jam that stares out at me from the corner cupboard with a forlorn expression, "spread me on something, anything, will you!" I'll be back, jam, you can wait.

Do I sound like I'm going out of my gourd? Yup, that would be correct. I haven't had a single snack in four days! What's this all leading to? I'll have the healthiest gut in town as I sit in the loony bin. Sheesh!

Okay, rant over. If anyone out there (is there anyone out there?) is curious about the diet and the science, Google GAPS. It's fascinating and revolutionary in its potential to treat and maybe cure such a wide variety of physical and psychological ailments. Maybe it will help me stop ranting about sweets! Or not.

I am feeling a bit less gassy and bloated, and the telltale sour taste that Candida leaves in my mouth is gone. So for now that will have to be reward enough as I plow on with this regimen.

P.S. The sauerkraut came out great, all purple and pretty with a hint of ginger in the mix, but the kombucha is taking its good 'ol sweet time. I'll have to make some seltzer in the new soda machine in the meantime.

Day 3: I'm Still Here

I guess the question should be "How did I get here in the first place?" Here's a bit of backstory: Seven years ago I was infected by Giardia that happened to be swimming laps with me in a pool. It's a nasty little parasite (they're all little, really, but so invasive) that wreaked havoc on my gut. It went undiagnosed for a few months and by then the opportunistic critters had opened up a parasite hotel, inviting all their friends and relatives to stay free of charge—doors are open fellas, come on in! I tested positive for toxoplasma, trichinella, C-difficile, candida and a tapeworm. Yes, major yuck. With the help of a brilliant and caring Naturopath I was able to evict almost all the squatters and years later live a mostly healthy life. But I was left with numerous food allergies that continue to haunt me today (or should I say taunt?): gluten, dairy, soy, nuts, and others that I am intolerant to. Somehow I managed to find substitutions. I've created dozens of recipes that I hope will someday become a cookbook. Still, I'm left with two symptoms: gas and bloating. Annoying mostly, but occasionally sleep disrupting and uncomfortable. Then last winter holiday season I entered a baking contest using my newfound skills at dairy-free, gluten-free baking. The recipes were fun and delicious, if I do say so myself, but they were NOT sugar-free. Every good baker must test their creations, and test I did, with wild abandon and delight. But weeks later I paid the price—the systemic candida was back with a vengeance and I haven't been able to rid myself of this pest since. And do you think I won the baking contest? No! Not even an honorable mention, for crying out loud!
A practitioner suggested the GAPS diet and after doing some reading online (gaps.me) I decided to give it a go, not quite so casually but desperation has a way making hard decisions, if not easier, at least a little more persuasive. More on the Gaps specifics soon. Off to enjoy some more chicken soup. Oy!

Day 2: A Dark Day

I wrote yesterday's post early in the morning when the light of possibility shown brightly with the rising of the sun. It was going to be a good day, a fresh start for me and a glorious day for a marathon. But as the afternoon progressed I felt weary and after only two of my restricted meals felt sure I couldn't continue. I was ready to give up before I'd even completed one day? It felt a whole lot like failure. But I dragged myself out to see the Boston Marathon, stomach rumbling and complaining, in the hopes I'd catch a glimpse of my friend running by. I'd seen her in a previous marathon and was really excited to cheer her on at the base of the most auspicious part of the race: Heartbreak Hill. But I missed her. I had trouble finding a parking spot and miscalculated her pace. Still it was great to see all the other runners. It took my mind off of my stomach and gave me some brief but needed time in the sun. I got home around two and took a nap, feeling like I often do at this point in the day on Yom Kippur, a most difficult fast lasting 24 hours. And yet I wasn't fasting. But I felt awful. When I woke I checked online for my friend's progress. Why hadn't the race officials posted her finish time? She'd made it to the 40K mark. It didn't make sense. And then it did, although it still doesn't, if you know what I mean. I knew then about the bombings, and knew later that my friend had been 100 feet from the blast, that my nephew had been in that horrible spot just one hour earlier, that everything had changed in an instant when a kitchen appliance was used for terror to kill and maim. And my diet woes seemed suddenly so trivial and inconsequential.
I had soup for dinner, the same soup that I had for breakfast and lunch. And I had soup for today's meals as well. I'm still not sure how long I can last on such a limited diet but there are far more important things on my mind now, so I will take it one bite at a time. Chew, chew, chew, swallow. Repeat. Some days that's how we have to live.

Day 1: Marathon

April 15th in Boston is marathon day, and coincidentally this year also tax day, two occasions marked by annual cycles. A year is a long time, at least it feels that way in this diet challenge I've committed myself to—committed being the key word (you choose which meaning I'm attaching here). Like a marathon, my goal shares some common attributes: the need for pacing, mental fortitude, endurance and sheer chutzpa. I guess I could say my training has been the increasing number of food allergies that I've developed over the past seven years that has reduced my diet significantly (more about the backstory in a few days). But just chicken soup, morning, noon and night for weeks? That's something else. That's a kind of odd deprivation I am unaccustomed to. It's not that I dislike chicken soup with nice chunks of tender chicken and a team of slightly too-soft vegetables swimming in broth—so far my first bowl feels satisfying and frankly quite comforting. We'll see how much I like it after 63 bowls, or more!

Back to the marathon. I'm at the start—or more likely running the hour or so to get to the start as most runners will do in Hopkinton this morning. I've got my gear (organic soup ingredients, high-dose probiotics, sauerkraut and kombucha fermenting in my closet), and I've tried to ready my mind for the task ahead, but now I have to face the fact that as I slowly move through the long and often hilly course, I may have doubts, weak moments when the chocolate covered mints will cry out to me in desperation "Eat me! I'm delicious!" "Yes, I know you are," I'll respond, but I have to keep my focus on the goal—the finish line, which for me is a healed gut.

Have I ever run a marathon that I should justly compare? Well, no, but my friends have and I usually stand on the sidelines at the base of Heartbreak Hill and cheer. Yes, I know that doesn't qualify me to expound on the difficulties of long-distance running, but I'm amply endowed with a dual sense of awe and compassion, and it seemed a fitting way to describe how I feel about my goal. Because I'm NOT a runner it feels like an impossible task. I could no more run 26.2 miles including the haul up Heartbreak Hill, then I could lift a Cooper Mini over my head. But I will take my energy and inspiration from the people who do. I tip my hat to them them and humbly sip broth in their honor.

The 'BEFORE' post

In a few days I will start a new diet. No, not the grapefruit fad. No large quantities of cider vinegar. Not Paleo, either. The diet is called GAPS and from what I've read so far, it has the potential to undo years of ill health and hopefully cure my digestive troubles. I see it as a gut renovation, like a house renovation. (Yes, the metaphor seemed too good to pass up.) Why a house? Well for one, I live an an old Victorian. When we moved in over twenty years ago, we had to remove some nasty asbestos, flaking lead paint, crumbling horse-hair plaster—remnants of the past, but volatile still. There were holes in the walls and leaks in the roof. The house was showing its age, but the basic structure inside was sound. So the plan is, I rid my basement of large colonies of unwelcome pathogens and bacteria. I'll banish the neurotoxins that have accumulated in my attic—yes, the 'ol noggin'. I'll rebuild the walls, filling leaks and gaps (pun intended) until the place is like new, better than the day it was born—did I say born? I mean built.
As I read more about the the protocol of the diet and the science that supports it, I'll share what I've learned, the daily experience of turning my food consumption habits upside down, the triumphs (hopefully) and the inevitable frustrations—this is life, after all. When I'm done, I hope to be able to enjoy food again without fear of reactions, and look back on this journey and declare it was worth the effort. And maybe have one slice of pizza, hold the pepperoni. Care to join me?