Wonders of the After-Meal Walk

And a Post-Walk Bevvy to Enjoy

Years ago when my husband and I lived in England for four, too-short years, we found a lovely family away from family in the friendships that we cultivated there. One such friendship was with Johnny and Mel, who epitomized everything you would expect of a well-made British couple: good-looking, smart, generous, funny, and always well-dressed. Being the kind people that they were and knowing that we lived thousands of miles from our homeland, they always invited us over for holidays or, more importantly, during the homesick hours that struck on Sunday afternoons.

You could count on three things during any meal at Johnny and Mel’s house:

1.     The food would be delicious because all Brits seem to have a built-in amateur chef gene that we Americans lost back during the Revolutionary War.

2.     There would be lots of wine, and during the post-meal conversation, Johnny would dangle his full glass between two fingers, the contents edging closer and closer to the rim as his eyes got drowsy but never once would he spill a drop, even when he finally slipped into the inevitable cat-nap that was lurking on the edge of his consciousness. It was miraculous to behold.

3.     A few hours into the visit, after the table was cleared, the wine bottles were emptied, and Johnny ceased with dangling his glass precariously above the white sofa, they would suggest we go for a walk.

Walking after a meal?

This was not a practice I was familiar with growing up in middle-America. There were a lot of things you might do after a meal, for example:

1.     Nap for several hours from which you awaken and have no idea what day or time it is

2.     Watch a tv show or televised sporting event, which usually leads to #1

3.     Play a game that requires little to no movement. A couple rounds of Uno perhaps. Some board games might qualify, but Monopoly is definitely out of the running—way too much effort with all the hotel building and cutthroat negotiating.

4.     Take another pass through the kitchen because maybe there was something at the meal that you didn’t eat that perhaps you should have. It’s always worth taking a second look.

Going for a walk wouldn’t even have made my top ten. Not that I didn’t like the idea, I just didn’t come from a family that took casual strolls around the neighborhood. Okay, okay, I admit that every time Johnny or Mel offered the suggestion, I’d do an internal eye-roll. “Not this again,” I’d mutter to myself. But then I’d paste on a smile and say “Oh, that sounds lovely.”

And in the end, it would be. Meandering through the house-lined streets, taking in the fresh air, moving our meal-stiffened limbs was actually wonderful. And somehow, it always gave my spirit a massive lift. And I’m not just making that up. There’s scientific proof that walking after a meal is beneficial for so many reasons.

You might think I took Johnny and Mel’s after-meal walking lesson and put it into good use in my stateside life. Well, I didn’t. Don’t get me wrong—I love being physically active. Each morning I do yoga and usually add a jog in after the Babes get on the bus. But moving my body after a meal hasn’t become a consistent practice for me. At least not yet. But there is a small pattern beginning to form in our family’s Sunday afternoon routine, and I like what I’m seeing. There may be hope for us yet.

For the past two Sundays during the light-waning afternoon hours, when the lunch leftovers have been stored in the fridge, the first round of NFL football games have ended, and the after-lunch nap has already been taken, our family ventures out into the bare-branched forest behind our house. About 100 yards straight down the hill from our back door flows the lazy waters of the Conestoga River. But there’s no direct route from our grassy shore to its pebbly one. Between us is a wild nest of brambles and thick brush that only the deer seem capable of navigating with any sort of ease.

Hence, we are forced to wander through the bamboo forest behind our neighbors’ house and past the dying burn hazel patches till we find the valley where dead trees lying on their sides give us footholds and their still-living sisters offer their branches for our gloved hands to grasp. While our Labrador, Winnie, scrambles past us in a flurry of excitement, we slowly make our way down the valley to the path beside the river.

Down by the Conestoga, we skirt along its edges, poking at the rocks and shells on its shore and sometimes climbing on the piles of driftwood that have gathered there through the years, but only Winnie is brave enough to frolic in its chilly waters. Still, the breeze off the river is invigorating, and we take the path home with new energy, bounding up the hill with deer-like spirit.

Me and two of my Babes perched on the driftwood along the Conestoga

As we crossover from the edge of the forest into the leaf-covered grass of our yard, our youngest son shouts over his shoulder, “Mama, will you make hot chocolate to warm us up?”

I smile. There’s so much goodness here in this fresh air and our moving legs and the unexpected lessons we learn from our friends. They teach us new things that we get to take back home and make our own. Sometimes we figure out a way to have the nap and the game and the walk, too. Maybe that’s how we Americans do it. At the very least, that’s how our family does. And hot chocolate at the end of it all?

“Yes, son!” I shout back. “That sounds lovely!”

Friend, if you are looking for a sweet bevvy to punctuate your after-meal winter walk, well, I’ve got a recipe that will give you all the chocolatey satisfaction you’re looking for without the added ingredients that might put you back on the sofa in a sugar coma. Enjoy!

Winter Walk Hot Chocolate

Ingredients:

5 1/2 c. plant milk of choice (You’ve got so many options here, but I’ll admit that almond isn’t my favorite for this. However, if almond is your stand-by, use it. I’ve made this with soy, oat, and coconut—sometimes all three at once, depending on what’s lingering in my fridge!)

8-12 dates, soaked in boiled water for 15 minutes if using a standard blender (Obviously, the more dates you use, the sweeter it will taste. As you know, I have a bit of a sweet tooth, so I go with the full 12, but please adjust to your taste. And I hate that this requires that extra soaking step if you don’t have a high-powered blender that blasts those pesky dates to smithereens. One more reason to ask Santa for a Vitamix, I suppose.)

½ c. cocoa powder

2 tsp. vanilla

1 tsp. salt

¼ tsp. cinnamon

Instructions:

Put all the ingredients in your blender. If you have a high-powered one, just turn it to 10 and let it sing for about 5 minutes, or until your bevvy is nice and hot. If you have a standard blender, turn it on for a good minute or two until everything is smooth, then pour it into a pot on your stove and warm it to your desired temperature. Divide among mugs, curl up in a chair with a warm blanket, and indulge.

Serves 6