Pushing Back the Darkness One Spoonful at a Time

Plus Chili and Cornbread Recipes to Spread the Love

Today feels like one of those days in The Kitchen where I need to pour us both a cup of tea, pull up a couple of stools to the island, wipe up the dried pool of maple syrup that’s left over from my Littles breakfast this morning and is positioned dangerously close to your elbow, and have a bit of a heart-to-heart.

Photo by CHI CHEN on Unsplash

Because, friend, let’s get real: it’s rough waters out there these days.

I’ve made it a practice of mine to only read news articles that appear in the local paper that gets tossed into my front yard every day by a woman who drives like a bat out of hell in the wee hours of the morning with her music blaring through her open car windows.

I like my news delivered with a flourish.

And the reason I limit my intake to that baker’s dozen of newsprint is because, quite frankly, I can’t handle more than that.

Feel free to judge me on this; I don’t mind. “You’re not staying informed,” you could say. “You’re just putting your head in the sand about reality,” is another valid critique you could offer. I hear what you’re saying. But the truth is, for me to maintain any sort of hope in the world around me, I simply can’t live on a steady diet of 24 hour news or click bait headlines.

That being said, even the headlines in our homegrown LNP newspaper leave me feeling starved for hope on most days: “Killer Gets Life in Prison”, “Climate Change Sets up Clashes”, “Fight Rages in Gaza City”...I could go on for pages but you get the picture. Ironically, you won’t see my name or the names of those I love in those articles. They aren’t stories where myself or those in my intimate community are principle players, and yet they still leave me feeling an unbearably heavy weight draped over my shoulders. Why? Well, probably because I’m human and I’m part of the human family. And as it is with any family, when one member of is hurting, everyone is.

Let’s be honest, though, sometimes the hurt isn’t overseas or in another town. It’s under our own roof, maybe even nestled somewhere down between our very own ribs. Its root could be in a strained relationship or a job that’s killing your soul. Or it could simply be the “blue funk”. That’s my affectionate term for the depressive weather front that regularly moves in over my spirit and leaves me in the doldrums for days or sometimes weeks on end. The forecast usually includes unexplained crying, the overwhelming desire to bury myself under layers of blankets and sleep, and a general feeling that everything in the world is sad and will always be sad. Simply said, the blue funk sucks.

But here I am, rattling on while my tea grows cold and you haven’t said a word? I wonder, friend, how are you feeling? Is the heaviness or sadness weighing on you, too? Or perhaps you’ve found a way to lift the burden a bit? Please share...

…but while you’re stirring your tea there and gathering up your words of wisdom, there’s just one more thing I thought I might say.

At times like this—when it all feels like a bit too much—I often think of my dear Mimi. She gave birth to my mom at the ripe old age of 40, and back in the 1950’s that meant many of her friends were doting on their grandchildren when my Mim was bringing home her fresh-faced baby from the hospital. But she didn’t mind. She already had two children grown and married, and the chance to have a baby of her own once again suited her just fine.

Growing up poor and motherless in the hills of North Carolina had created a sturdiness in my grandmother that’s hard to find these days. She suffered through abandonment, homelessness, the death of her 1-year-old daughter, cancer (twice), and her husband’s diagnosis of ALS. My grandma had every reason to be pissed off and hopeless. She’d been dealt a hand that I would have slapped back down in front of God and said, “Try again, Bub.”

But not my Mim. Instead, she lived by a simple rule: “Whenever I start feeling sorry for myself, I just go out and do something for somebody else.” I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right: in our day and age a rule like that could easily be misconstrued. “What about acknowledging our pain and allowing ourselves to sit with it? What about self-care?” I absolutely believe those practices are important and necessary. But sometimes when the sorriness I feel gets stuck and won’t move no matter how much self-compassion I throw at it, I know I need to take my Mim’s advice.

Of course, you knew this conversation was somehow going to circle back to food, didn’t you? Since food is one of my love languages, I’ve discovered that food is one of the best ways that I can love on other people as well. Back when my babies were born, one of the things I enjoyed most about the postpartum weeks were the seemingly endless succession of casseroles and soups and baked goods that came through our door nearly every night from our friends and family. When your whole body aches from bringing an actual human being into the world and your house reeks with the smell of spit up and yogurty newborn poop, nothing feels more like a big and necessary hug than a bowl of steaming chili and a slice of still-warm cornbread. That’s love you can dig into.

Ever since then, when I’m getting down about the wider world (or my own personal world) and I remember my Mim’s advice, I pull myself up from the couch or out of the chocolate drawer and get working in the kitchen. As I sauté the onions and chop the peppers, I think about someone I know that needs a pick me up or a night off from cooking or simply a bowlful of something delicious and nutritious. One of the things I enjoy most about dedicating myself to healthy eating is that I know when I take someone a meal now, I’m not just giving nourishment to their souls but to their bodies as well. It’s a win in every direction: I shake off some of my heaviness, someone else gets a little extra love in their day, and their bodies get fed a hefty portion of the good stuff. Below you’ll find my favorite “take them a meal” recipe: my Light Shining White Bean Chili.

I know that taking someone a meal isn’t going to make your job stop being the worst. It won’t make “the blue funk” dissipate instantaneously. It won’t end the wars in Israel or Gaza or Ukraine. It won’t rid the world of all of the Baddies and protect all the Goodies. But it will bring more love into the world, and love is a pretty powerful force so who knows what it might do. I think it’s worth a try.

I came across the forebear of this recipe in one of my favorite WFPB cookbooks called Plant Pure Nation. If you are looking to get started on your own plant-based journey, this cookbook is a great place to start. Their white bean chili recipe was one of the first ones I tried. Through the years it has evolved into the gem you’ll find below, cut and shined to all our family’s particular tastes. What I love about using this recipe to take someone a meal is that it’s quick, it rewarms beautifully (it actually tastes even better as leftovers), and the flavors tend to please even the pickiest eaters. Paired with my Tastes like Cake Cornbread (whose recipe all my paid subscribers will also find below), it’s a dreamy duo, bound to fight back the darkness with its gastronomical love.

Light Shining White Bean Chili

Ingredients:

2, 15 oz. cans cannellini beans, rinsed, drained, and divided

2 c. vegetable. stock, divided

1 celery stalk, diced

1 med. onion, diced

3 garlic cloves, minced

1 red bell pepper, diced

2 c. frozen corn

1 tsp. cumin

1 tsp coriander

2 tsp. chili powder

2 tbsp. nutritional yeast

1 tbsp. lime juice

1 tsp. salt

¼ tsp. pepper

Instructions:

We’ll start off by getting our bean slurry made by placing 1 c. of vegetable stock and 1 can of the rinsed and drained beans in a blender. Turn it on high for about 30 seconds or until it’s smooth. Set this mixture aside.

Using a large pot, put it over medium heat and pour in the remaining ½ cup of vegetable stock. Once the stock starts simmering, throw in your celery and onion, and let them mingle over the heat for a seven or so minutes till they start to loosen up and get soft.

Then add the garlic and red pepper and get them all partying together for the next 5 minutes, stirring the mixture occasionally in case things get stagnant and they start to burn. Now add in the corn and the spices, and cook for an additional minute or so while the spices get toasty. Add in the remaining vegetable stock as well as the bean slurry you made at the beginning, the remaining cannellini beans, nutritional yeast, lime juice, salt, and pepper. Give the whole pot of fun a few enthusiastic stirs and then let it simmer on the stove for 10-15 minutes.

Once the flavors have had a chance to meld together, take it off the heat, and let it cool to room temperature before placing it in containers. If you don’t take issue with reusing plastic take out containers (I know, I know, you’re not supposed to reuse single use plastics, but sometimes I can’t bear the thought of them piling up in a landfill), you can divvy up portions in those. They’re airtight and you don’t have to worry about getting dishes back that you don’t want to give away forever. But however you choose to transport your goodies, remember to throw in a little extra love with each ladle full. A little love goes a long way.

And for all you wonderfully generous paid subscribers out there, I present to you my favorite vegan cornbread recipe. It was inspired by the famous cornbread from Junior’s Restaurant in New York City. That was our family’s go-to recipe for years, but when I switched to WFPB eating, I needed a new one. After much trial and error, this little pan of deliciousness was born. Enjoy!

Tastes Like Cake Cornbread

Ingredients:

1 c. light coconut milk (from a can)

2 tsp. apple cider vinegar

1 ½ c. wholewheat pastry or all-purpose flour

¾ c. cornmeal

¼ c. sugar

1 tbsp. baking powder

1 ½ tsp. salt

½ c. light olive oil (the label should say, “for baking”)

2 tsp. vanilla

Instructions:

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees and line a 8x8 inch pan with parchment paper.

In a small bowl combine coconut milk and vinegar and let sit for a few minutes.

Meanwhile in a large bowl, combine flour, cornmeal, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Give it a few stirs with a whisk or fork just to mix everything up.

Into your small bowl with the milk mixture, add the oil and vanilla and stir to combine. Add the wet ingredients into your bowl of dry ingredients and with a spatula, stir together just till everything is combined. You don’t want to give the mixture a good workout or your cornbread will turn out tough.

Pour the batter into your prepared pan and bake in the oven for 15-20 minutes or until the top has a soft golden-brown glow to it and little cracks start to form around the edges of the bread. Pull it out of the oven and let it cool for a few minutes before cutting into generous squares. I love to put a big slice in the bottom of my soup bowl before pouring in a ladleful of chili, but you do whatever strikes your fancy.

Okay, now that my tea’s grown cold and you’ve had some time to gather your thoughts, how are you, my friend? I’d love to hear your thoughts on heaviness and blue funks and the ways you give love to the world around you. (Feel free to wax poetic is the comment section below!)