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When I first met dh, he was subsisting off of jarred baby food (like weight lifters often ate), King Vitamin Cereal, and restaurant food (lots of late night trips to Denny’s). He thought he ate great; I was horrified.

When we married, he became my “learn to cook” guinea pig as I devoured “southern cooking” recipes in an effort to capture the Mississippi flavors he grew up with. We had green beans soaked in ham hocks, piles of pork chops, biscuits (part of an endeavor to find the BEST recipe), and lots of rich desserts made with convenience foods. We thought we ate great; our midwife was horrified.

When we went to Mom’s on Sunday for dinner, Dh always wanted seconds on meat. By then we were on a tight food budget and only had single servings at home. Mom sometimes got frustrated with sides because dh only liked green beans and corn and she was used to broccoli with cheese, boiled cabbage, stir fries and medleys, and sweetened carrots. I loved it when she made extra sides for me, who was usually pregnant and craving veggies. We thought we ate great; our new “grind-your-own-grain” friends were horrified.

When we moved to our house on Greenfern Lane, with it’s sprinkler system and good sun exposure, my gardening attempts finally paid off. We switched to whole foods and got rid of creamed casseroles. I breastfed our fourth for two years and we learned what foods made him sick and healthy. No more nitrate-laden food, no more sugared “healthy” cereals or pre-mixed yogurts. Dh learned to love fried squash, baked hard squash, veggie soups, eggplant, zucchini, carrots, onions. We challenged our picky eating by tackling one new food at a time, sometimes taking a year to get to know it. We thought we ate great; the lady in the Chick Fil A and McDonald’s drive thru knew better.

When we’d survived “year seven” of our marriage, which brought us dangerously close to divorce, and I discovered bistro cooking and we launched into the Great Wine Experiment. We started with sweet wines and grilled most of our food. After time, Lambrusco and Riesling were too sweet and so was soda. Dark chocolate took the place of milk right about the time we discovered Pinot. Spinach salad was common and that was the year we learned to roast beets, leeks, and root veggies. Our children asked for Lox and cream cheese while shopping. Our oldest fell in love with sauted Brussels sprouts. Plain yogurt and granola was the breakfast of choice. Grilled Salmon was a weekly main dish. We gardened heirloom veggies, shopped the farmer’s market, and ate seasonally and locally. We had our own hen for fresh eggs. We thought we ate great; very few were horrified.

When we packed up everything and moved into a 2 bedroom apartment in East Tennessee we found Dave Ramsey. Our “food budget” became an articulated thing and I tried to balance eating politically and frugally. We started eating “beans and rice”, doctored up in as many ways as I could think of. Even trying beans was a step of maturity on my part; learning to love them was a surprise. Higher gas prices took over our wine category almost completely. We were as close as we’ve ever been to eating a vegetarian diet that was still very high in protein. We picked our fruit at farms, got to know the owners of a great produce market, and got excited over the opening of a new farmer’s market in town. We still ate seasonally; plates full of veggies, buttermilk pancakes and waffles with puddles of real maple syrup. I even learned to bake my own bread. When we rented a house our garden was the biggest we’d ever had by 3 times. We thought we ate great; we were right, held up to our old standard.

When my new friend mentioned a book she was reading called Nourishing Traditions, I was intrigued because it had to do with one of my favorite subjects, food. She’d suffered a loss earlier that year and made a life change because of it and my heart and ears were open. She had us over for dinner and served us local fruit, whole grains, soaked and toasted nuts, and sprouted beans. The next day my entire chemistry felt and reacted differently; a gastrointestinal “high”. I was converted and bought the book. From there we tried new grains like bulgar, millet, amaranth. Our grocery list went from 15 pounds of white sugar a month to zero. Our fats are real fats that our bodies can break down. Our nuts and legumes have the phytates soaked out of them so that we can assimilate the vitamin content. No more MSG, hydrogenated or trans fat, or corn syrup. Our food is gorgeous and nourishing to our very pores. We are true omnivores, eating good meat, good eggs, good dairy, resplendent vegetables of all kinds, and fruit in abundance. We are blessed. My sons’ reflux condition is finally controlled and almost non-existent. Our bodies are leaner; we ate fat and lost fat. We can’t tolerate more than a few sips of overly sweetened soda, junky white flour products bloat us up like balloons, fake foods hold no temptation. If you make soups you’ll know what I mean when I say, “our surface has been skimmed”. We eat great, period.

Last week I looked at my cookbook shelf and found some old friends. Back when we married, when we were expecting our first baby and eating in a way that horrified our midwife, I’d obtained a copy of Laurel’s Kitchen. Also, her Bread Book. Somewhere in the journey I found Bistro Cooking at Home, Chevy’s Fresh Mex, A Real American Breakfast, and the Moosewood Restaurant’s book of soups and salads. Every single one of them are compatible with what is prescribed in Nourishing Traditions; some recipes may require a tweak here or there. This week I’ll expand my menu to include some “new” recipes that have sat on my shelf, some for more than 10 years. They were here with me all along, waiting for me to grow up, for may palate to mature beyond the sweet, fluffy stuff of the modern American diet of sci-fi food. I learned to chew and taste in stages. We learned to try new things, to even recognize they were out there, gradually. The definition of “good” evolved. My chemistry changed, my cravings adapted. I think my old midwife would be impressed. At the least, she’d be comfortable sharing my table. I eat great and there’s still more to explore.

Hebrews 5:13 “for everyone who lives on milk is unskilled in the word of righteousness, since he is a child. But solid food is for the mature, for those who have their powers of discernment trained by constant practice to distinguish good from evil.

“Constant practice”. What is good for an infant is not what’s good for an adolescent is not what’s good for an adult. We get there through constant practice and trained discernment. Each new level might make us think we’ve found “the best”. Remember the first time you tried something new and found it exciting and delicious? What’s true is the that the best foods aren’t complicated, manufactured by science, or unusual. And one person’s baby food may another person’s challenging new experience. I think it’s sometimes more a reflection of where that person is “at” rather than a reflection of the food itself. “Good” becomes “good for…”

Breast milk is good food…for my baby. Soda is junk that is good for no one. Margarine is a false food that pretends to be good food. Grown ups need fiber that comes from chewing things and regularly, not occasionally. Getting fed once in awhile leads to nutritional and bodily distress.

I can hardly wait to see how this grows and what beautiful, blessed, challenging food is “good” for me next year! If I’m living right, it will not be the the exact same thing I’m eating today. Joy in the journey indeed.

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