Travelling for work - To Do's and Not To Do's

I am typing this whilst in Prague, where I attended a meeting with my colleagues from all over Europe. I've mentioned this before, travelling is difficult for me. I love the excitement of going new places, seeing people in the flesh that I work with every day remotely and breaking away from the daily office routine.

I would be lying though if I didn't admit that it is difficult for me. It's better than it was whilst I was in my disorder, but it's still hard. A lifetime ago, I would hunt out the best places to buy food on the taxi ride to the hotel, checking where I can get my fix and would consider what excuses I would use to get away from everyone in the evenings, so I could eat and puke. So, I am oh so glad I'm no longer in that space.

It feels freeing not to feel compulsive around that. I didn't scout for a supermarket, I had unhurried conversations with colleagues and I was present.

On the first and second day. And then, I took my eyes off the ball, feeling cocky and arrogant that I had this recovery shit covered. Did I hell...

My check in:
I have not been so close to breaking my abstinence in the last 10 months as I've been yesterday! It was a slow and gradual process, building up over the day and likely even sooner. I had a snack before lunch, had a bigger lunch, did not more think about it, had various snacks throughout the afternoon, and a big dinner. After returning to my room, I started eating a snack that my colleague had brought along for me as thank you for covering for him during his vacation. It was a big slab of almonds in nougat. Not only was the thing hard to open, so I had several chances to stop and consciously make a decision to go ahead, it was also a mother of calories. I thought, at that point, that I had broken my commitment to sticking to the plan already anyway, that i was allowed to reward myself. I thought that I would not feel remorse and simply pick up with the plan te next day. I had seen your emails throughout the day and felt pressure to follow your suggestions. It ended up with me in bed at 1:00 so uncomfortably full that I seriously considered getting rid of the contents of my stomach quickly. I pulled the emergency hand break and called a fellow in NYC. She talked me off the ledge and I am, this morning, so very thankful for her help.
I also went to weigh myself this morning. This,  I realise, is not a very kind thing to do. Nor is then staring at my belly and arms, trying to detect signs of my flabbiness. I know I am more than my weight,and I still carry a certain number in my head that I would like to be. This is pure punishment and I want to move away from that.
My body and my whole being has been giving me signals all along, when to stop, be that eating, worrying, stressing and working. I want to  be mindful and in balance with nature. I am a commitment to balance and I am so very grateful for not having broken my abstinence last night.

I am feeling much better having returned to London, having reconnected, gone to a meeting, called people and I can now honestly look back over that period and here is my list of do's and don't's:

Don't:

1. Make a plan and ignore it
2. Take an 'all or nothing' approach that translates into 'oh, I've eaten one snack off plan, might as well throw the entire day away and snack like a woman possessed'.
3. Don't buy snacks for the trip. Just don't. There will be food, I won't starve. Even if I do not have an afternoon snack, I will probably not starve. Fact.
4. Weigh myself on a scale. I can't handle it. It makes my head go crazy and I start obsessing about weight, how to get lower, how to diet etc.
5. Let excuses get in the way of connecting with the program. It works, IF YOU WORK IT.

Do:

1. Make a plan and stick to it.
2. Call fellows. Texting doesn't count. Call 'em. There will be 5 minutes, heck, even 2 minutes in the day, where I can call someone. Ideally, before and after meals.
3. Pull the emergency break and rest assured that there is a way out of a binge.
4. For me, texting before each meal/snack is essential, especially when travelling.
5. Taking stock of feelings before each meal is helpful.
6. Acknowledge that food cannot fill the hole I feel.
7. Forgive and move on to the next healthy step towards achieving a balance in life.
8. Writing out my feelings and speaking about things and connecting to the program helps me.

I'm gonna share some of the food pictures of the trip, just because I took them and a post with pictures is more interesting, I think:

The HOTTEST soup ever. EVER.
 

The team dinner

Beef tournedos with herb dumplings and cranberry sauce

Crème Brulee with Shortbread

Sunday roast at The Crown

Sometimes, only a proper roast will do. Especially on a Sunday, on a late summer afternoon, when it is getting colder, autumn is unmistakably in the air and the first conkers are falling to the ground. Walking around in Angel, strolling over the Farmers Market on Chapel Market and feeling rather lazy last weekend, that was exactly what happened.

On top of that, we were caught by a torrential downpour whilst looking for inspiration for what to cook that night. Rather than forcing ourselves to decide on something, I remembered that The Crown is only 5 minutes away from and it used to be one of my most favourite pubs to have a roast in when were living in that neighbourhood. Not only is the food really delicious, the pub itself is beautiful. The wood and glass interior retained a lot of the original charm and come rain or shine, it's a light filled place. It's one of those places where I can't imagine being grumpy in.

I had opted for the chicken, whilst the British Boy went for the lamb. My chicken was juicy, with more-ish crispy skin and the cabbage was doused in buttery goodness. Max' roast looked fantastic and the piece of lamb I blackmailed him into sharing was yummy.



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Roast chicken with cabbages and roasted vegetables.



Lamb roast with potatoes, veg and cabbage

I failed to see the daily specials board until after I had ordered, which was frustrating, as they had what sounded like an amazing scallop dish. I definitely want to come back and try more of a variety of foods. All I can leave with is that they know how to make a damn good roast for sure.

Date night

The British Boy will cringe when he reads this. Something as planned and contrived as a date will surely rouse his distaste. Whatever I want to call this, quality time (bleurgh), a movie and dinner, time spent with ones love, it happened and it was nice. I like dates, both the dried fruit variety and the going out, kissing and staring at each other adoringly.

This was one of the latter and it ended up with a meal at the Jugged Hare. It started with meeting my man for a movie at the Barbican. Going to the movies is scandalously expensive and with Max being a member there, he got a discount. I love a discount and I love the Barbican. Win win situation. The architecture is fascinating and it so reminds me of what people in the 70s must have thought the future to look like.



View into the Barbican comples

After the movie, we went for dinner at the Jugged Hare. We've been to this place before to enjoy an asparagus themed night and I really liked it. Because I had only had brunch, though it was a big brunch, I opted to have a starter and a main - and, gasp, dessert.

We began the meal by ordering a bottle of sparkly stuff and then dug into some warm, just out of the oven bread with butter. Yum, I had to stop myself from overdoing it. My starter was ox tongue with beetroot slaw and gherkin. I thought it was safe from Max, since he hates both beetroot and gherkins, but I was nice to exchange a bit of my tongue for his terrine. I won that one hands down.

 



Ox tongue, beetroot slaw and gherkin

My main was a honey roast salmon nicoise salad with the dressing on the side. Because I lived in the US for six years, I have no qualms stating my preferences when it comes to 'customizing' my order. Max has gotten used to it, but I think it's fair to say that he is still very much embarrassed by my special requests and oftentimes tells me that I need to order my own food if I am so picky. I happily oblige if it means I can enjoy my food more. Anyway, I am aware it is an utter pain for the chefs and I suspect or imagine that either my food has been the recipient of someone's angry spit or I have been cursed at. Haha. I don't care.

Salmon Nicoise

Max had the just in season roasted grouse. It tastes gloriously gamey and this round went to him.

Roast Grouse

I felt very reckless and carefree (likely the booze at that point) and ordered dessert. When I chose the chocolate and salted caramel pot with brittle, I thought of a chocolate fondant-esque concoction. It wasn't. It was the below. It was chocolaty and rich and dark and sadly not quite what I wanted. That's the problem with making assumptions. I get disappointed if it's not living up to my imaginary standards. I live and learn. It was a nice dessert, don't get me wrong. Just not what I thought it would be. Luckily the British Boy volunteered to help me finish it.

Chocolate and salted caramel pot

It's not the cheapest place. We ended up spending just over £100 for two starters, two mains, one dessert and a bottle of sparkling wine. I would come back for their themed nights, which are £65 per head for 5 courses inspired by seasonal food, paired with wine. That's more after my taste and more in line with my wallet.

British Boy's Birthday at the Smokehouse

A few weeks back, my beloved, caring, supportive and at times annoying and infuriating man turned 33. As has now become the norm, we take each other out to a nice restaurant to celebrate, just the two of us. Generally, there will still be a party or night at the pub with our friends at a later point, which I also love, yet the actual birthday dinner is special.

To make it that bit special, we choose restaurants the other person would like but not normally go to. In the past, I have taken him to The Ledbury, Galvin at La Chapelle, a dodgy Greek restaurant in the deepest darkest East German borderland to the Czech republic. Yeah, that one was a highlight... Well, this year, I was selfish and booked us into a much hyped and highly anticipated newly launched place called Smokehouse.

The restaurant received rave reviews in the press and the menu reads like a dream. I was really looking forward to the evening, also because I like supporting places that take the sourcing of their ingredients seriously and cook with the seasons. The Smokehouse definitely ticks all of these boxes.

The atmosphere on the evening was vibrant, hip and welcoming. Almost all tables were filled with a happy and relaxed crowd, the last few remnants of summer in the air. Upon sitting, I looked around, taking in the 'oh so right now' décor and huge beer selection. The craft beers on tap and in bottles were impressive and I want to come back purely to try some of them. Luckily, the Smokehouse is in our neighbourhood.

Anyway, I ordered a negroni and started the torturous back and forth dance of what to order. Because we were seated close to the open kitchen pass, I was able to drool over all the dishes coming out, which makes choosing something even harder.

Having chosen and settled in with our drinks, we soaked up the vibe until our food arrived. My starter of smoked mullet and pickled clams sounded inventive and looked so very pretty. Sadly, I felt disappointed with how bland it was and Max agreed with me. The smokiness of the mullet was barely detectable and the pickled clams lacked a vinegary kick to liven up the dish.


Smoked mullet, sea purslane & pickled clams

For main, I had chosen the flank steak with roasted vegetables and roast potatoes. By then, we had moved on to a punchy red wine, which name I forgot to write down. Since Max had ordered the braised ox cheeks with cauliflower cheese, a red was certainly called for. My steak was juicy, charred and exactly what I wanted. That was, until I tried Max' food. Having bribed the British Boy with promises of sexual favours to allow me to try his dish, I had to concede that he was the clear winner. The ox cheeks were meltingly tender, rich and just so moorish. I hate it when that happens. A) I am notoriously competitive and dislike not coming out on top and B) I ended up with food envy. Well, it was his birthday, so I snapped out of it. 

Steak at the Smokehouse

Coincidentally, a couple of our friends had also made reservations on the same night. They sat right behind us and because they are generous, or on second thought, quite vindictive and mean, they let me try the short rib bourguignon they had ordered and that I had initially put on my shortlist.

Fucking hell, that was amazing.

Really amazing.

Like, so good I know I'll have to come back just for that.

And the beer.

And the atmosphere.

Healthy meals

So, here is the last week in pictures - loving and nourishing meals:


Gazpacho

This gazpacho was my lunch for a few days, it was delicious, refreshing and filling during what seemed the last few days of summer in England.



Breakfast on the day of surgery - kale smoothie with oat and kasha topping. 

My Henkersmahlzeit, aka last meal, before going under the knife was courtesy of my lovely friend Christin. She had invited Max and I for a laid back BBQ on Sunday and in true East German form, sent us away with left overs. I could not have been happier to tuck into them for lunch:

Insane truffle hummus on sourdough bread



Revamped leftover salad containing: Quinoa, feta and pomegranate salad; mango salsa; garden greens; raw cauliflower and fennel.

Jumping to Wednesday:

French toast with goats yoghurt, strawberries and grapefruit.

Salad of roasted vegetables and tikka turkey breast. Enjoyed in a sunny garden.

Afternoon snack - erm, one of several - was this fudge brownie. It wasn't all that great, to be honest.

oh shit...

Yeah, it's tough, coming to the realisation that I very impulsively chose to have my eyes lasered and only afterwards fully researching the topic and not being able to reverse it. Aside from being scared shitless, I am also quite critical with myself. Pop on top of that that I also overate a lot last night, and I find myself in a perfect shit-storm. (Apparently the word shit-storm is now part of the German vernacular that even the German chancellor uses it officially. So, I feel thoroughly entitled to use it too.)

Bruising from the surgery.

Anyway, as I am still lying in bed, with a cappuccino the British Boy made for me, I now have a choice. I could, as I have done in the past, get the record out, dust it off and put it on, spending the rest of the day with the constant soundtrack of 'Should have researched sooner, made a big mistake, that fucking flap will tear off as soon at some point and YOU WILL NEVER SEE AGAIN EVER, STUPID WOMAN. Oh, and you are getting bigger by the day, control yourfuckingself around food and lose some weight you slob!!!'. That's certainly one option at the moment... Not a very nice one or useful or kind or productive or healthy or compassionate or loving. Well, actually, it's not really an option at all. It's hell.

What I will do instead:
Acknowledge my fear - yep, I am scared shitless.
Reality check the fear - Whilst instances of complications have been recorded, the probability of any disaster happening to me is very slim.
Accept what I cannot change - the surgery is irreversible. That sounds scary even as I type it, and it's ok to be scared and it's also a reality I cannot change. So, I chose to move on.
Focus on what I can do and be grateful - I wake up and see without contacts. I can travel without contacts stuff. I can cuddle without crashing my glasses into my or Max' face. I can look outside my bedroom window on a rainy Saturday morning, listen to the raindrops fall on lush green leaves, feel a few of the persistent and particularly mischievous ones land on my bare shoulders as they bounce off the sill. I can see the reflection of the tree on my laptop screen and can make out individual leaves. I can make room for the fear and breathe and choose happiness. Because it is healthier for me.

The next post will be a collection of pictures of my meals. These are the good and healthy dishes I ate, for when I overate yesterday, I funnily enough did not stop to snap loving pictures to remind myself of the actual amounts of food I compulsively snacked on... I live and learn.

Hectic times

Tumultuous times at work and real dips in self esteem and I am getting better at finding ways of not turning to food. Am I always successful? Am I heck... I am improving and it's progress, not perfection anyway.

Some of my eats:

Breakfast feast

coconut pancakes with fruit, yoghurt and mint

Beetroot, trout and horseradish salad

home-grown arugula and spinach