Fck You Paleo Bread

I mean, really? Why did we start this in the first place? I know it has no grains but question… When is a seed not a grain? Turns out, that when it’s a nut! Nuts are fruit. So, and I’m very interested in your sourced knowledge of this, when is a seed paleo? I sat and thought about this for ages before hitting Google and then Wiki, and we have to be careful. The seeds of pumpkins are pepitas, yes? But the seeds and pips are not the same. You can eat the pips of guavas and passion fruit, but munch on the pip of an apricot and you’re in trouble (despite claims that have no grounding in science).

apricot cyanide

I mention all this because of substitution. The need for bread. We don’t. Just don’t. I mean, do what you want but the more we rely on somebody else cashing in the more rubbish in the landfill and not the compost bucket.

I gave in and bought a Nutribullet, though, and it’s bloody amazing! I chuck in kale, celery, golden beetroot, carrot, stuff still in the garden like beetroot tops, parsley, rocquet, and silver beet. Some macadamias, almonds, some avocado, chuck in tomato and, yes, a radish! And my BCAAs, ginger,  raw turmeric root a dash of cayenne and chili.

Or variations of that theme…

Add water to the limit, and POW! BAM! That’s serious soup.

I pour the goop into jars. Usually it’ll make two. I have all the fats I need with the nuts and avo, all the protein unless I’ve had a mega day at the gym when I’ll need eggs or meat.

It takes me all of 5 minutes to pick what I need, grab the stuff from the bench or the fridge, rough chop it and shove it down.

The paleo bread thing? Well, that’s just bread.

bread

An attitude moment that I don’t have to justify. Seems to me the internet is awash with paleo faux-desert/sweet recipe. Fools gold, lovelies. Berries in season, agreed. But… don’t take it from me, go Google paleo bread and grin.

Keep warm if you’re in Melbourne or the countryside, and keep up the Vitamin D with all this cloud.

Off to down a steak.

Bon apetit,

Ly x

 

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Twixt and Tween Weather, Perfect For Rabbit Stew

I’m just cleaning out old websites, wounds, worries. Have been for a month before Sunday. Mother’s Day, btw, I was gifted an hour of crockery smashing at the Break Room here in Melbourne. Seriously works up an appetite!
Serenity (daughter) was laughing her guts out, watching from behind bullet-proof glass. I didn’t miss one hit bcause, lovelies, I tell you, I had some stress to work out of this old body!

Courtney and Caitlyn joined us back at my house, and I cooked a kangaroo bol with zucchini spaghetti. That’s not this. I’ll do that again for you soon. Part of the clearout of wankery, warts and wannabees, however, is even myself; the sad deluded thinking that my YouTube site was okay. Not if I’m gong to do some live work with you soon! Found this. This twixt and tween weather is just fabulous for wild game. Old video. Taste is the same

Bon apetit!
Ly x

AGE SHAMING

Gosh, what to say! I’ve had a recent run-in with a guy who thought to shame me for being in ‘his’ gym… his final bastion of bloke-sweatiness. Despite having been in one or other of them since 1991. I’ve written an article for a mag about it ,so I won’t put it here yet. What I will say, is that if you’re a woman over 50 years old don’t carry goats uphill ,or walk three miles with a staff on their shoulders carrying a bucket of water at both ends, you’ll get osteoporosis. And it is NOT a thing. It comes from sedentary living. If you’re a man (in the understood parlance of an outdated dualist modality) tell me it’s different. I’m really interested!

gym with me and nila

Nila Chandra, there on the incline bench, is in her forties, is fabulous and now living in Bisbee, Arizona. That’s me on camera. Those are pectorals on my torso, not cleavage.

I have a new series coming up soon… a vlog on health, lifestyle, fitness and nutrition. Stay tuned…

In the meantime, chicken, walnuts, raw yogurt, broccoli and cauliflower puree. More meals and snacks to come. I’m simply overwhelmingly busy.

Check this out, though:

Lesson 17: Rock Your Age

FROM “FIT AND FIERCE OVER 40”
BY SADIE NARDINI


I’m 45 years old as I write this. Almost 46.

For some of you, that might seem really old. For others, you’re pshawing me right now because 45 is so young.

I can only speak for myself: This is the oldest I’ve ever been.

And sometimes it takes me aback.

I’m not one to pin all problems on “society”, but there is something to be said for living in America, where youth and perfection is plastered all over magazines, billboards and TV as the ideal.

Yes, it’s changing somewhat. But recent studies show that, for the majority of men polled in the US, even older men, the most attractive and desirable age for them is still 20 years old.

Not twenty-something.

Just out of high school, maybe in college. . ..twenty.

Don’t get me wrong. Twenty is as valuable and beautiful as thirty, forty, seventy. All ages are cool with me. Women and men, to me, are powerful and magical all life long.

We are often and simply not taught in this country how to age with empowerment, confidence, and grace.

It’s up to you, and me, to show how amazing and wild and self-confident and gorgeous any age can be.

So, this day is about caring for yourself deeply, and making sure you do your best to nurture your body, mind and spirit at all phases of your life. It’s also about the fact that we can’t stop time.

So from decade to decade–heck, from day to day sometimes–you have a choice to make.

Are you going to look in the mirror, notice your aging, or imperfections, and let them dim your shine?

Or are you going to stand up taller inside yourself, love yourself up more, smile big and walk through your day like you own it? Which you can, anytime you choose.

Time waits for no one. But you can stop waiting to go out there and rock who you are. . .just as you are. If you’re twenty, rock twenty (and sorry about those age-inappropriate guys). If you’re eighty, rock eighty like you’re onstage with Led Zeppelin!

Age duuna count

AGE DUNNA COUNT

Kindness is so easy.

 

Visiting Dear Daughts in hospital today for a routine gall bladder procedure. A woman, I’ll call her Jane Doe, is in the other bed in the ward, suffering from a really intense gastric infection. She’s seriously obese. She’s gorgeous. She’s sad. She’s alone for ages and not talking to anyone. Eating the crappy whatever-it-is that passes for a sandwich.

Daughts is so lovely and made Jane smile. Laugh. When I came to visit, daughter and I clowned around a bit, drank coffee, chatted and included Jane. She an I got talking. She has Type 2 diabetes, high blood pressure and some kind of helplessness I don’t know about. She has a husband, and her two 30-something year old daughters just moved back home. They expect mom to cook and clean and go back to the way things were before they moved out, and had husbands.

We asked why, when they’re grown-ups? Jane shrugged. She was APOLOGETIC like what could she do, it must be her fault.

Jane said she couldn’t stomach food (hospital food, DISGUSTING) and could not shift the weight of years. I chatted on a bit about giving up grains and sugar. What they do to us. How they harm us.

I asked how old she was. “I’m 64,” she said, embarrassed, like it is a thing to be ashamed of.

“Hey,” I smiled, “I’m 66.”

Her mouth fell open.

“Darling,” I said, “You can get better… a bit… Are you feeding the others?”

“Yes,” she said, “but I can’t just have one Tim Tam. I have to eat the lot. I don’t know how to stop.  don’t want to be like this.”

“How long you think you’ll be in hospital?” I asked.

“I’m here for a week, I think. This is like a hotel to me. How do you look the way you do?”

I explained.

And then her husband came. He was supposed to bring her the roast veggies her daughters had cooked. He forgot. He complained about the traffic, the weather, their kids, his job, having to come and visit. She tried to placate him. SHE’S THE ONE WHO’S SICK!!!

So. Back to Dear Daughts for a moment. Gall bladder. Forget the fats. Got to make light. Her housemate brought her their homemade, chicken and ginger soup. I made soup also, chestnut pumpkin with rosemary and Himalayan pink salt. I dry roasted some of it with dukkah.

We both fed a bit to Jane, who had never tasted anything as good. She left the hospital sandwich untouched on her tray. Between yesterday and tonight she had totally perked up. Laughed with strangers. Known delicious food.

Moral?

Be kind. Make kind and caring food. Love one another. Make chestnut pumpkin soup and hug your children but don’t clean up their crap. Age dunna count, we can always turn life around.

No matter what our species.

Bon apetit,

Ly x