Beef minon or how to have a wonderful Friday night

To most people, this is known as filet mignon or fillet steak. Not to my friend Christin, she calls it beef minon, and it was the best minon I had in a long long time. She recently moved into this new flat in London and I had serious kitchen envy when I saw her on Friday. I mean, seriously, isn't this ridiculously perfect:

Perfect kitchen

We started with a cheese plate and then had juicy, perfectly medium rare steak. Finished off with red wine, chocolate and a Ryan Gosling movie. Perfect Friday night.

Perfect minon

So, on the mental health front, my spiritual mentor sent me a note about her secret garden. Here is my check-in in response on Friday morning:

 

I love secret gardens and when I read this, my mind conjured up this big walled, ivy-shrouded place, where there are deep dark green trees, whose leaves whisper in the breeze, and fragrant bushes and a clearing with a lush green meadow and wild flowers and a  murmuring stream running through and the sun tickling the tip of my nose and the smell of damp, fertile earth and goodness. Aah – mental holidays. Makes me smile.

I had a good day yesterday, work is less busy, my presentation went well and everyone seems to be less stressed. The beginning of the summer low. I met with my therapist and we spoke about self-esteem. In my aftercare group on Wednesday, the therapist challenged me to find esteem-able acts to do for myself and I came up empty handed. Self esteem – means knowing and feeling the worthiness of oneself undoubtedly and feeling love for self. I am unsure how to practise that.

Today, I am a bit unsure what to do with myself. I don’t have pressing deadlines, but have a few things to tackle. It seems, now that the pressure has eased, my drive slacks too. I have been looking at houses for Max and I to buy in Germany. I found a few nice ones, unfortunately in the wrong locations. I feel that there might be compromises coming our way in where or what we’re getting.

I’m anxious about dinner with friends we have planned for tomorrow eve, they’re all bringing a cheese per couple (there is 3 couples plus us) and we already have a starter, main and dessert and I just want to learn from my mistakes in the past, where alcohol and carelessness have led to me overeating and feeling crap afterwards. I did have food plans then and the fear of missing out was so strong that I ate more and once I had gone over my food plan I had this ‘fuck it’ attitude and just ate more and more. I didn’t like how I felt the next day/week at all. Maybe my plan was too strict (hah, who am I kidding – I was greedy and wanted more though I didn’t need it). It’s tough to stick to a plan. I will mentally go through what I will be eating and how much and I will stick to it (might text someone in OA after each of the courses).  

 I am a commitment to balance.

..and thanks for all the fish...

I owe my recovery to an intensive program I did at 'Charter Harley Street'. They are fantastic and I directly attribute me getting better to the work I did with them. It was fucking hard, intense, painful and challenging. It was the best decision I have ever made in my life and the best investment (they ain't free).

The beauty of the team is that they also don't leave you hanging, there is a thriving after care community held each Wednesday and whenever I can, I go. Timing is a bit iffy regarding food. Group runs from 7 to 8:30 pm and that's exactly the time I would normally eat.

In the winter, I have brought some food and eaten in the Charter kitchen prior to the start of the meeting. Now that it's light and lovely outside, I would rather eat afterwards. The only problem is where to eat - grabbing something on the go for the bus home feels a bit 'meh'. Waiting until I get home and then cooking something is ok, as long as it's a quick 'throw it all together' meal.

I thought meeting the British Boy for dinner at Bonnie Gull would be a good alternative, especially as he was out for drinks with work in the centre. In theory, we were to meet close to Charter, order and get fed quickly. It turned out to be a longer than anticipated 'no food' period. We talked, we observed, we anticipated our meal - it was enjoyable.

The restaurant is intimate with a few tables outside, a few inside and a bar to sit at. The overall feel is light and summary and the waiters were friendly. The drinks sounded fantastic (Gin with thyme anyone?) and the wine list looked great too.

Bonnie Gull

 Because it was so late in the evening when we sat down, we opted for mains only. I had the crab with shack mayonnaise and toasted sourdough and the British Boy ordered the hake.

1kg crab with shack mayonnaise

Hake with burnt butter, elderflower and asparagus. Summer on a plate.

The dishes looked amazing and the whilst Max' delivered on presentation and taste, my crab was sadly raw in some places. As the cook was unable to recover it, the team kindly took Max' wine off the bill. The crab I was able to eat was lovely and the mayonnaise gave it that added dimension - I ate it all and enjoyed it, crabby fingernails and all (mmh, on that thought, I would have totally appreciated one of those lemony water bowls that make you look totally naff when flopping the fingers in to try and wash off the fishiness). Overall, this is not the cheapest place (£19 for the Hake, £20 for the crab) and I was disappointed by the raw shellfish. Nonetheless, I would give it a second chance once it's scallops season because I liked the atmosphere and that they offered compensation for the hiccup.

Lisbon and a rough patch

It's been a while, that's because I hit a rough patch. 'Curling up on a bed in a hotel room and crying so hard snot came out of my nose' rough patch. It was definitely not pretty and I felt properly shitty.

What had happened? I went to Lisbon:

Lisbon Train Station by night

Ate lots of food:

Ham starter

Stepped on a scale at the gym in the hotel and had a smack in the face that actually, overeating on a regular basis will have effects on the waistline. That was a rude awakening and my little brain went into overdrive and I just fell into this hole of 'Oh fuck, I'm fat, I'm a loser at this recovery malarkey, I need to lose weight otherwise I'm worthless...'

My check in after the 'Scale-gate':

I ate way more than I needed, I used circumstances as an excuse and ended up back at the hotel room, actually full and sated with fatty and fried foods and then opened a bag of nuts to snack on. I made the mistake of stepping on scales here at the hotel this morning and appeared to have gained 4kilos since my last scale incident a few months ago. I am really upset about it as I previously kinda kidded myself that the weight gain might only be in my head. Seeing it in numbers means I cannot hide from the truth.

Max just called and he said, do you remember when you told me last week that you looked at yourself and you found it looked good? And I do remember it and it feels a lifetime away and like at the moment, I am drowning in a deep feeling of failure.

I know this is an overreaction fuelled by my guilt for last night, my underlying fear of not being loveable if I fail and this thinking of unrealistic perfection. It hurts and it's ok to feel uncomfortable when faced with truths I would rather ignore. It's vital that I focus on the solution, am kind to myself and compassionate and that my friends and family are singing my song. And damn, it's hard right now not to panic and make stupid decisions.

I am a commitment to balance and acceptance.

Several cries, call with my sponsor, loving meditation and not puking (yay), I found myself and found a renewed sense of not going overboard.

Then I kinda tried finding the balance of still enjoying a good meal whilst also being honest about what my body actually needs as fuel. That's the tough bit to find. My last meal in Lisbon ended with this very yummy dish:

Goats cheese flan with coconut sabayon @ Darwin's Café in Lisbon

This was more of an indulgence than a need. So after I got back from my trip, went to a couple of meetings and feel more settled in my recovery, I am back at eating more in sync with my needs. I am not overindulging, not restricting and my body will end up where it's meant to end up.

Check in on Sunday:

Yesterday was a day of rest, and I liked and needed it. I am thankful for having found my footing, my connection again and had an abstinent day. I am thankful for the smell of elderflowers, the taste of home grown kale and spinach and rocket. I am thankful for a job I like and for everything.

Today, I ran to a meeting, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I spoke to a fellow, ran into a friend and am now on my way to eat Sunday roast at friends'. I will stick to whatever is being put in front of me and hope to be able to continue working on step four. I'm working on my fears and the last week in Portugal definitely showed me the power these fears have over my mental and spiritual well-being. Lots to write about. At the moment, I'm really hungry and have committed my food plan to Max, which is not to have seconds. I won't miss out and I am a commitment to balance.

I also bought bigger jeans to stop myself from constantly obsessing about how tight my jeans feel. :)

Breakfast out of a peanut butter container

Noisy head - I snack

For today, I will just post a few of my check ins over the past few days. It's been noisy in my head...

Friday morning:

Yesterday, I was thankful for having had a good conversation and run with a friend (it's the way forward, non-food related activities), having a sun filled garden to sit in, having a loving husband and a long overdue talk with my sponsor.

Today, my head was a bit noisy when I woke up. I felt less than when I put my jeans on and they were snug. I now notice these thoughts and let them pass by. They can be persistent at times, the little buggers. I'm nervous about the wedding, seeing that woman I have a hard time being around, and I'm nervous about the fact that I can't control the food.

I am a commitment to balance and acceptance of life on life's terms.

Saturday morning:

I was thankful for a having a lovely time at the wedding, for having meaningful conversations, for sunshine, for being able to be happy for friends, for a nice meal.

Today, my head is noisy again, as I feel hung over and try to not think of how many calories I consumed and how tight my jeans are. I want to buy new, bigger jeans. My hearts desire is to eat like a normal person and enjoy the weekend.

I am a commitment to balance.

Sunday morning:

Yesterday, I was thankful for being able bodied, that I can walk and see and hear.

The rest of the day was a blur of eating I was resentful towards the British Boy which meant I did not want to stay at the after party of the wedding, even though I wanted to. I felt myself being pulled back into thin aspirations as I compared myself to the bride and had to acknowledge that I gained weight. My jeans felt extra tight and I felt flabby and I went to eat from about 2 nonstop til 10, snacking, grazing, having dinner, dessert and more. Oh, the paradox of it all. Today, I am meeting my sponsor and will talk to her about it. I feel scared and guilty and like a looser. I am disappointed with myself and want to be compassionate and kind.

I am a commitment to balance and compassion.

Tuesday morning:

Yesterday, I was thankful for having a colleague working from London, I was thankful for having friends to talk to, that Max landed safely in Canada.

I felt ok last night, talked to a fellow and then afterwards ended up snacking more, which leaves me feeling guilty and ashamed and angry at myself. Having read an essay on how meditation can help to stop obsessive responses to situations - I very much identify with the unease and the urge to scratch the itch. I would like to try meditation to be able to better observe it and then acknowledge it, refrain from acting on it and just being with it. There are so many things I hook onto: comparing, control, food... Ego clinging of how I want things, myself and others to be. My hearts desire today is to not feed the angry wolf and not judge or label things as good or bad and to remain open to observe.

I am a commitment to balance. 

Tasty bubbles aka why I am too old to party like a rock star

I am a sucker for bubbles. I mean a HUGE sucker for them - champagne, cava, sparkling wine, prosecco, sekt - as long as it's dry, tasty and has bubbles in it, I will probably end up drinking it like other people drink juice.

Don't get me wrong, I am not a massive drinker in general. In fact, not a big drinker at all. I can count how many times I've been very drunk (in my entire life) on my fingers. I mean proper drunk, slurring words, not able to focus on surroundings, going to bed and needing to poke a leg out from under the duvet to stop the room from spinning. The reason for that is hangovers and control. I fucking hate the feeling of waking up with a headache, a funny fuzzy mouth, that tightness in the skull that suggests too little water in the brain, the waves of puke-iness and the fact that it renders me useless for the better portion of the day. Hate it. I also have a big problem letting go of control - one of my major issues in general.

Anway, every once in a while, after long enough time has passed for me to forget my woes about how shitty it made me feel last time, I succumb to the calls of the bubbles. That's exactly what happened last weekend.

My dear friends Rui & Jo came over to enjoy dinner with us. Jo is as much a bubble-head as I am, maybe even more so. They are also incredibly generous and for my birthday, I got gifted a lovely bottle of champagne. I wanted to reciprocate and decided to have them over for dinner as thank you and suggested we drink that bottle of champers. Well, Jo thought it would be a fantastic idea to have a blind tasting of all things bubbly and so we did.

Did I mention that Jo is a vegan? I prepared three proper main course salads for dinner that had some heft to line our stomachs. It was a rare balmy evening in London and we feasted on:

Quinoa, asparagus, strawberries and pea salad from Oh She Glows.

Courgette, spinach and lentil salad with a non-pictured avocado pesto also from Oh She Glows.

French bean, potato and pecan salad adapted from Martha Stewart

The fuck up on this last salad were the several spoonful of goats yoghurt I poured into the dressing. Don't get me wrong, I know yoghurt is not vegan, but I remembered that Jo had been eating diary a while back. Sadly, that was no longer the case, which meant I had leftovers of this salad for 3 days. It remained yummy.

The bubbly flowed freely, the discussions were great, open, and got very passionate and I ate more than I needed. Woke up with the fuzzy head and food guilt, and made myself a French toast with berries for breakfast.

Eggy bread, strawberries, blueberries and nuts.

The Sunday was a sunny affair which called for a spinach smoothie with blueberries and a big salad of leftovers. By that day, I had also recovered from my hangover with a solid intention not to go overboard next time. Erm, yes. We'll see.

Spinach smoothie sprinkled with buckwheat groats, oats, blueberries and cinnamon.

Spinach, lentil, peppers topped with turkey breast, sweet potato hummus and avocado pesto. Yummy.

Dinner in a Victorian garden

After our amazing smallholder course, I wanted us to treat ourselves to a yummy meal and went about to research what Bristol and surroundings have to offer. Initially, I had booked a table at the River Cottage Canteen, which I am sure would have been great. I have much respect for Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, well, in fact, I want to be HFW - aside from being a middle-aged man, having married a French woman and having several kids with her, doing television stuff and using alliterations all the time - ok, so I DON'T want to be HFW, but I would LOVE to have his farm, his staff to help him run it and an ethical and seasonal approach to rearing what he's eating. Anyway, it was really hard to find a nice hotel in Bristol within walking distance (so we could both drink) and I gave up.

I did stumble across this blog though and was totally intrigued. See, I'm a menu perv. I read menus like other people 'read' Playboy magazines. I drool over them, try out the various foods in my head, imagine having immense pleasure from whatever is on the menu and get very very VERY excited. As soon as I read The Ethicurean's menu, I was a goner.


The Ethicurean Dining Room

I was also intrigued by the location. The restaurant is inside the Barley Wood Walled Garden, a 'restored Victorian kitchen garden'. It was like stepping back in time. The weather was gorgeous and balmy, the birds were singing and the scent of glorious cooking wafted through the air. The sun kissed the hilltops as it set and I felt blissfully happy.

The view from the window - the walled garden.

What about the food - well, it certainly delivered on that too. Drinks first though: I ordered a smoked bourbon drink, which was intriguing due to the actual smoke that filled the decanter. It was overall a little too sweet for me. The British Boy had the very masculine looking pink tea pot filled with sloe gin and Fevertree tonic. I have to say, I was a bit jealous as I think I would have enjoyed the G&T more.

Smoked Bourbon in the front, Sloe Gin & Fevertree Tonic in the tea pot

I didn't take a picture of Max' humongous Welsh rarebit starter, but could not resist snapping the prettiest starter I had seen in a while:

Cuttlefish, scallops, pressed apple and cauliflower puree.

Our mains were delectable. I went for a Tomato & fennel seed soup with fish and a blob of some creamy ewe's milk cheese and truffle toast, but I could not detect any truffle-iness on that toast at all. I mean, at all. I left half of it, because it was basically just a toasted soldier drenched in olive oil.

Fennel & tomato soup with ewes milk cheese, fish and truffle oil toast.

The British Boy's pork with fondant potato was delicious and meaty and yummy. I only had a little bite, but he said it was wonderful. 

Meat for the man.

 I did not snap a picture of the dessert we shared - a very rich and absolutely decadent chocolate tart concoction. We also shared two cheeses. The blue one was so strong, it practically rendered my taste buds non-functioning for the rest of the evening.

Cheeeeeeese.

The meal was great, the setting was magical and the walk home in the dark felt right, except for the slight disagreement (erm, fight culminating in me crying) about whether it is contrived or not want to plan to wake up at 3am in the morning for a week to just sit in the garden with a blanket to feel one's connection to the universe.

I'll leave with the picture I took on my run the morning after - I really love the woods and the area around Bristol is beautiful!