These Are a Few of My Favorite Things...

I've slowly been replacing items that were on the menu when I arrived with new items. I decided this week to change one of the "Fresh Baked" items on the menu from a Banana Cake to a Mascarpone Almond Cake with an Almond Cream Center.

If any of you know me well at all, you will know by now that I ADORE almond. It is one of those scents and flavors that just fills me with peace and joy. I always, always want to close my eyes and savor the aroma when it hits me. This cake is so moist to begin with, and then I put a tiny scoop of Almond Cream in the center and top it with a small amount of additional cake batter. The almond cream remains partially liquid, which give the already moist cake, that extra little oomph that makes you melt into your chair with the first bite.

Strawberries are also a favorite of mine. I was actually forbidden (jokingly, I think) to bring them with me to eat at work when I worked at a paint your own pottery studio, because I enjoyed them with a noisy enthusiasm that can only be compared to Meg Ryan's performance in When Harry Met Sally.



So I decided to pair this amazing Almond Cake with a sumptuous Strawberry Coulis and Rum Macerated Sliced Strawberries. This is served with Kona Coffee Ice Cream, which as many of you know, is another addiction of mine, and sliced/toasted almonds.

This is one of my all time favorite desserts, and it will be remaining on the menu for an extended period of time to come!

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

I will definitely be writing about food in this portion of my journey, but I will be writing just as much about my NOW, my daily life, my Journey of Becoming. This Journey includes my battle with depression and anxiety. This is a difficult subject for me to bare to those I am not close with, but I have come to realize that sometimes brutal honesty about subjects that others are not always willing to talk about can be helpful to others dealing with the same issues. First, a brief history:

Now This is Life is sprinkled with sentences referencing my struggle with depression and anxiety. I cannot pinpoint a time in my life that this surfaced. I can tell you an approximate time that it worsened, but even in childhood I can remember staring into my own eyes in the mirror and just...crying. When I was in high school, I was very religious, and committing suicide never crossed my mind. I simply wished I didn't exist. I prayed for the second coming of Christ to happen ASAP so I wouldn't have to be here anymore. At 17, I began my questioning and soul searching and the quest to find myself. The next few years were extremely tumultuous for me. I had my first full on panic attacks, even though I didn't know that's what was happening at the time. I began to think about taking my wish for lack of existence into my own hands. Daily. I had specific ways chosen. These thoughts would flash through my head unbidden as I was driving down the highway. I would choose to wrap myself in them when I was buried in blankets trying to rid myself of the constant chill that resides in you from November to May for the residents of North Eastern Ohio. This was my reality. I didn't know that there was help. I didn't know that this was unhealthy. I didn't know that I wasn't alone. I didn't know.

After I had my children, I didn't think about removing myself anymore. I had a reason greater than the sadness to remain here. I had responsibility. I had a purpose to fight through. After my first daughter was born, I began my first depression medication. Lexapro seemed to help a little bit, but when I tried to look back on day to day things that happened while I was on that medicine, I found memories to be foggy. I refused to be unable to recall Harmony's childhood. I weaned off of it. I struggled for awhile longer without medication, but after a trip to New York where I had a panic attack in front of Marc's family, I made a call to my doctor on the way home for an appointment to get on something new. I was put on Effexor, but two weeks later at the recheck appointment, found I was pregnant with Layla and had to be taken back off of it. When Layla was 15 months old, I weaned her and began taking Effexor again, with an Ativan kicker when necessary. We tried Xanax first, but I hated the way it made me feel. It made me loopy and knocked me out. I've been on this combination for about two years now. It is helpful, and along with therapy, I feel I have come a long way along this winding road.

Therapy has been extremely helpful. The problem with beginning medications and therapy is that there are so many different ones out there on both counts. I went through two therapists before I finally landed with a third who was actually able to help me. He was able to give me ACTIONS to perform and things to tell myself when I would get into certain states of mind to help break the cycle. He was able to communicate to Marc ways that he could help me when I would get into a state of anxiety. He helped Marc understand what was happening with me. Different medications affect people differently, so it often takes trial and error to find the right combination to help. This is a daunting task when you can barely find the strength and motivation to just get out of bed in the morning. It takes at least six weeks before you will even begin to know if a medicine is beginning to work for you or not, and another period of time to wean off one medicine and to start another. It seems like a never ending cycle sometimes, and you begin to doubt that there really is help.

One of the hardest parts of depression is feeling like there is no hope. That is when the dark thoughts begin to creep it. I felt sometimes like I was destined to hurt this bad forever. I felt like I was never going to get better, I was always going to be sad and have an ache in my chest. The reason I got out of bed was for Harmony. She gave me a reason to push. She gave me a reason to get better. She gave me a reason to keep trying.

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I feel better most of the time now. I struggle more with anxiety than depression these days, but that is due to the medication I am on. I had a period where I fought taking medications. I wanted so badly to be able to do it holistically, with therapy and herbs alone. Eventually I realized that this was not a realistic aspiration for me. I also realized that this has been a lifelong struggle, and will continue to BE a lifelong struggle. I will never "recover" from depression. I will likely need to be on medication the rest of my life. Depression is hard in this sense because if someone has a heart condition, there is something that you can SEE on a screen that shows that you need medication. You can't see depression on a screen. You can't run a blood test that shows you have it. THIS DOESN'T MEAN IT ISN'T REAL. It is just as real of a condition as a heart murmur or a broken leg. I have to remind myself of this often. Occasionally I fight taking my meds. Sometimes I will think, "I feel so much better. My stress inducers have lessened. Maybe I will be fine off the meds." I quickly realize that it doesn't work that way.

All of that back story was to lead up to this:
This last month, I was off my thyroid medicine completely for about a month (thyroid problems also contribute to depression) just because I was too busy to get it refilled, and when I went to finally pick up that prescription, found out that I needed a recheck before I could refill my Effexor. I ended up being off Effexor for a couple of days before I was able to get that taken care of. I had no idea that missing a dose even for a couple of days could have such dramatic results.

Friday was the day. I hadn't had a dose of Effexor in over 48 hours and the 48 hours prior to that, I only had a partial dose in an attempt to "ration" what I had left. I began to feel nauseous. I was having headaches. By Friday, my vision was jumpy, I was extremely irritable, my head was pounding, my stomach was in knots, I was getting sweats, I was crying every few minutes, and I was overall just very unwell. I looked up withdrawel symptoms and found that even one missed dose of Effexor can cause dramatic withdrawel effects. I needed medication back in my system ASAP.

Today is Sunday. I have had three doses of Effexor since Friday and am beginning to feel more "normal".

The fact that I will remain of some form of medication is a hard pill for me to swallow (pun totally intended.) I feel like I SHOULD be able to do it on my own. If I want it bad enough or work hard enough, I should be able to just....be better. Right?!? Wrong. I have to continuously remind myself of this. It doesn't make me weak to admit this. It simply means that I am now wise enough to recognize that I need the help and that it IS OK TO NEED THIS HELP. Sometimes being wise doesn't mean having all the answers, but knowing where to go to find them.

I know I will still fight it occasionally, but I am thankful that I have a partner by my side who has walked with me through all these dark times and stuck with me even during my craziest. He loved me before I loved myself enough to get help. He recognizes when I am getting to a state of agitation sometimes before I do, and helps talk me down when he can, and gets me my medication when he can't. I am so incredibly thankful for him. I am so thankful that he shares my NOW.

Becoming

My favorite book as a child was The Velveteen Rabbit. I still have my well worn paperback copy that I had read to me over and over growing up, as well as a beautifully illustrated version that I received as a gift as an adult. I love both copies equally.

One of my favorite passages from this treasured tale is one in which the Rabbit is asking the Skin Horse about becoming real.

It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.

Many times in life, you change little by little and are hardly aware of the process. One day you look back and realize what growth you have made, or how you have changed. I am changing. I feel it. I see it. I am aware.

Almost immediately upon graduation, I felt this incredible relief wash over me. School is over. All the stress and frustration, all the continuous work, is over. I felt the tension leaving my body. I could breathe. I could smile.

I look back on the last few months of school and I hardly recognize myself. I realize how close I was to not making it mentally. I was stretched too thin for too long. Marc was stretched too thin for too long. We were in survival mode.

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I remember the exact moment that I decided I wanted to give one of my children the name Harmony. I was riding the school bus home one day in high school. I remember the exact curve in the road that it came to me. I don't know why it came into my head, but the moment it did, I knew. Harmony. It embodied everything I wanted. From my teen years on, I feel I have been yearning for harmony in my heart, my mind, my soul, my life.

I was raised in a very strict Baptist home. At 17, I began questioning all the things that were imprinted upon me since birth. I began to realize that my parents truth was not my own truth. This caused great upheaval in not only my relationship with them, but also in my own internal self. The person I had been groomed to be, was not who I was. I struggled with this. I struggled to define myself. I felt I needed to label exactly what and who I was, I needed the words to specifically denote each part of me. I needed to put myself in a box of some sort with neat compartments so I could see what I was made of right there in front of me.

I came upon a card one day in a little gift shop. I bought it and hung it on my fridge where it stayed for years and years. Every time I would move, it would move with me. It was a source of comfort in those panicked moments where I felt like I had no meaning, no direction, no clarity to myself.

They say, 'Be Yourself,' like you know exactly what that is...like you're a toaster or something...like there's only that one way to pop out you. Well maybe being me isn't just one thing. Maybe just searching for me is being me and not being them- being themselves...being toasters. Maybe being me is more like a breakfast cereal variety pack. Maybe that's what I'll be...today. But tomorrow, who knows?...maybe the blue plate special.

For years I struggled. I was so unhappy. I attended church. I stopped attending church. I attended therapy. I stopped attending therapy. I got married. I had babies. I ached inside. I was insecure. I was scared. I cried. I began attending therapy again. I began to make some improvements. I started school. I felt a small flicker of hope. I began to believe in myself just a little. I was becoming. I started working. I questioned my decision to go into this field. I cried more. I pushed through. I graduated. I found my Ohana. My family. I found peace. I found happiness. I found myself.

Since beginning work at Roy's, I have fully embraced the Hawaiian mentality. Many of the people there greet one another with "Aloha." At first, I would still just say, "Hello" and then correct myself when they greeted me back with the Hawaiian word. Adam said not to force it and it would come naturally. It has. I have done some research on Hawaii and came upon the Hawaiian Philosophy of Life. There are seven principles, and each one touched my inner self. I have found my truth.

In short, this philosophy says that (1)we create our own reality, (2)we are only limited by ourselves, our ideas, and our fears, (3)whatever you CHOOSE to focus your attention on will be where results are seen, (4)focus on the NOW, (5)care for others as much as yourself unselfishly, (6)there is a universal life energy that flows through all things and connects us all if we choose to acknowledge it, and (7)there is a plethora of ways to be happy or to reach a goal, and to be open to this idea and accept that your truth or happiness is not necessarily the same as the next persons' and neither are wrong.

With this truth has come a great deal of acceptance. Acceptance of myself and my stand on things. I harbor much less bitterness, and am much more at peace. This is not a religion. This is a way of life. I have accepted myself for who I am. I have begun to actually like myself. I don't need labels. I am a unique compilation of many things.

As a graduation present, I was able to get a tattoo that I have been wanting for a long time. It, like me, is a unique compilation of many things. This is not my first tattoo, but it IS the first LARGE tattoo and it is also the first that is in such a visible spot. All my other tattoos are easily covered. This one is not as much, and this again is a tribute to my becoming. My acceptance of me.

Previously, I may have done certain things not necessarily out of conscious spite, but sort of out of rebellion against all the rules and boundaries given to me as a child. This tattoo is not. It is for me, and me alone. It is a reminder to me of who I am right NOW. Because NOW is what matters. So...in this moment, I am happy. And in this moment, I am going to publish this post, and go play with my two angels and be fully in my NOW.

New Year's Eve

For special events, the owner and Chef partner, Adam, usually comes up with an idea and then has me execute it. It's fun to have him give me an idea and then us go back and forth making it better and better until we land on something we both are really excited about. He pushes me when it comes to flavors and techniques, and I'm always learning new ways to produce cool effects.

For New Year's Eve, Adam wanted to do a stuffed french toast. I stuffed Challah Bread with an Apple and Cream Cheese filling, then dipped the thick slices into a seasoned egg mixture that I created for my very own "French Cakes" creation (combining French Toast and Pancakes) and then pan fried the slices. For service, I reheated the slices in the oven, then dipped the bottoms in butter and vanilla seasoned Corn Flakes to give it extra crunch. It was served with the most delightful Apple Cider Syrup (recipe to follow), a scoop of Maple Bourbon Ice Cream, and garnished with an edible Orchid.

Adam also had a really cool idea for a special Strawberry Shortcake. It was served with Moscato Wine macerated strawberries, a vanilla foam, and pop rocks so it simulated strawberries and champagne in your mouth. Adam taught me how to make foams using soy lethicin, which is one of the new techniques I was speaking of earlier.

The Roy's Signature Melting Chocolate Souffle is a requirement at any special event of this type, for good reason.

We also had a cheese plate on the dessert menu.

There were two of us working the station, as we expected to do over 300 covers that night. Our station was styled out to the max, and service went incredibly smoothly with no issues at all. I look forward to many more events such as this!

Apple Cider Syrup Recipe:
1 cup apple cider
3/4 cup light brown sugar
1/4 tsp. ground cloves
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
2 Tbs. unsalted butter

Directions:
Whisk together all ingredients except for the butter in a medium saucepan. Bring the mixture just to a boil and then lower the heat and simmer until thickened and reduced to about 1 cup, 8 to 10 minutes. Stir in the butter until melted. Serve warm over stuffed French toast.

I made a HUGE batch of this so it took awhile to reduce down. This was perfectly fine, because it made the whole back area smell absolutely divine.