No-Waste November? Let’s talk trash!

We may need a smaller can.

We've been eating a whole-food, plant-based, low-sodium, minimally-processed and no-oils diet for so long now, it's become second nature. Chop an onion and saute it in a bit of low-sodium vegetable broth, add some garlic...ya da ya da...and pretty soon we have dinner and leftovers that last at least through lunch tomorrow and possible dinner tomorrow night. 

This way of cooking makes me feel good physically and deep down good inside too. In our quest to save money too, we buy lots of unprocessed fresh fruits and vegetables, along with a good amount of frozen foods, canned goods and depending on my schedule, pre-chopped vegetables from Trader Joe's. I limit myself on pre-processed fruit, because I'm just never that busy. But bags and bags of produce enter our house each week. And all those bags eventually make it into our trash.

Many times after a marathon cooking stint, I would be surprised how much trash I had just thrown into the kitchen trash. Of course the recyclables went where they belonged, the compostables went in the garden, and the better compostables like potato and carrot peels went into special batches of dog food for our Molly girl. But the one-time-use only bags and cartons were the ones that bothered me. The frozen corn bags, the clear plastic produce bags that I would never manage to save and either reuse or bring back to the bin at the store. Each week we filled up our trash can with lots of unrecyclable plastic that was going straight to the landfill. And I'm sure if you asked the land, if it could talk, it would ask that we stop trying to fill it. Ditto with the oceans.

So loving a good food challenge, we decided to use November 2018 as a test ground for a zero waste month. We dubbed the month No Waste November, knowing we were shooting for more of a Low Waste goal. If I have a catchy title, I can do just about anything in a month, so the end of October had me using up as much of the food we had in single-use containers. These items were mostly the frozen vegetables and fruits in the freezer, and bags of items such as nuts, flour and dried fruits. I invested in reusable mesh produce bags from the grocery store and started washing out and saving plastic produce bags from the store. I also got a few wax coated food covers from Trader Joe's. These would be in addition to the washable plastic covers I had from GladWare, the ones that look like something your grandmother wore at the beauty parlor. I've never been one to fight with plastic wrap, it always wins.

First shopping trip? Not Trader Joe's, where the one-use plastic bags are king. No, I headed straight to Sprouts Market with my reusable mesh bags. I marched into the produce department and started filling up mesh bags. And then quickly realized I was going to need more bags. I think I'm at nine now, we could probably use 12. I did start just throwing similar things in one bag, like herbs and smaller vegetable bunches such as radishes. I bet the cashiers mumble under their breath at shoppers who do this, but there is only so much mesh I want to mess with. 

We had a great month of dried bean soups, vegetable soup, more dried bean soups, followed up with some more soup. Because the month of No Waste was also the month of No Oven, the off button on our oven decided to quit, so roasting, baking and casseroles were out of the question. Soup for days and days and days. 

We are only two people, but we eat home-cooked meals probably 95% of the time. That makes one tall kitchen can of trash each week. With really watching the one-time use plastic, we reduced this to only one can for the whole month. It felt so odd to throw away that tall kitchen bag with so little trash in it, that I started to just up-end it into the outside bin and reuse the bag. There was no food trash in it to speak of, so it wasn't even smelly. Amazing results. This little experiment has made me think twice about the packaging of even the healthful foods we purchase, and whether there is an alternative means to buy that same product.

How were the cost-savings? Our shopping habits definitely changed, but we were not attempting to save money, just plastic. But nonetheless, money-wise we did pretty well. Minus the days we went to Southern California for a get-away, our average food costs were $9.88 per day. Not quite as good as the $6.66 all-time record from eating at the 99 Cent Store for one month, but not too shabby either. 

Wax lined food covers.

My only complaint is that they're opaque.
Opaque, yet so charming.
It made me feel like our food in the fridge had all turned Amish on us. 

The ultimate in packaged foods. 

Recyclable, but not really reusable.

Not recyclable, but reusable.

Only good for one use.
Unless we took it on the dog's walk. Hmm.

Such "apeeling" packaging!

Jar salads, they fit right in last month.

No plastic here, fruit filling in for fresh flowers.

Getaway Guilt

The morning of November 8th started off dry and breezy and much too warm for a November day. Too dry, too warm, and that breeze turned into quite a windy morning. An icky wind. A wind that had me thinking "this is one of those days when something really bad could happen in California."

Unfortunately I was right, and soon I learned that the town of Paradise, north of Sacramento, was pretty much wiped out by the worst fire in California history. The numbers of dead and/or missing are hard to fathom, as are the over 12,000 homes burned. I didn't know anyone there, but it's one of those places that makes you smile when someone claims from that town. Paradise - it must have been fun to write that down as a return address.

The day of the fire and the next, the skies in Sacramento became horribly smoky. Then Saturday it got downright scary. The streets looked foggy, but it was lung-burning and eye-tearing smoke. I saw a person with a full face respirator in the parking lot of Trader Joe's, and someone inside had a smoke mask. I thought they were being a bit dramatic, then I saw when I got home the air quality was in the hazardous range, all groups were advised to stay indoors. Suddenly that carton of soy milk didn't seem that important, I made a mental note to add smoke masks to our Go Bag kits.

The next few days were just a blur of depressing news, and more smoke. We had an inversion layer and the stuff would not budge from the skies, besides the fact that the Camp Fire to the north continued to rage. The stories of the evacuation were trickling out, and it sounded apocalyptic. My mood was matching the dreary skies. But we had a trip planned to Southern California, and I was looking forward to getting away. With the house cleaned for the dog sitters, we caught our early morning flight to my husband's conference in Irvine.

Knowing that the fires in Malibu were still active, I didn't expect to see great improvement in the air quality, but a change of scenery was due. I love staying in hotels, especially for my husband's conferences. Sleeping in, binge watching decorating shows, not making the bed, it's all good. The skies leaving Sacramento a week after the fire were still so bad, I'm surprised our flight wasn't cancelled. But oh was it nice to lift above that layer of smoke and fly away from hazardous air that was keeping us inside. The air in Long Beach was blue and it smelled fresh and lovely. I felt super guilty for enjoying the clean air, I wished I could turn a fan on and send it up north. The air back home was cancelling event after event, the local school district closed for a day, along with my husband's district and every other one in the area, including all the college campuses. I can't remember another disaster, except for maybe the 1989 earthquake, that was such a gut punch to Northern California in so many ways.

After our short stay in Irvine, we took a ferry to Catalina Island to catch up with an old friend from our days in South Lake Tahoe. It had been a long time since we had seen Laurel, a very long time.  Ernst gave the talk that Sunday for the little English group, and we got to sleep in the equally small Kingdom Hall on a Murphy bed in the back room. We had breakfast each morning at the hotel where our friends live and work, so between the free digs and the free food, we only had to pay for the ferry ride. Our three nights on Catalina were a soothing balm for us, heart, mind and body. And lungs.

So long, Sacramento.

Hello SoCal.

I was in the mood for some thrift store shopping!

And spicy Korean food.

Irvine streets are completely empty of walkers.
 Except me.

Great thrift store in cute Old Town Orange.

Meh, the Beyond Burger tasted like meat.
I'm over meat.
Give me a lentil burger any day.

My Orange outfit!
Rather, my outfit from Orange.

Catalina!

Laurel!

Prettiest mini-golf course ever.

Adorable harbor!

Golf carts - it's how people get around the town of Avalon.

Tiny hall!

These fish work at Laurel's hotel.

We love conferences!

"This side makes my bill look smaller."

Good-bye Avalon.

Hello Molly!

Bag Buddies, my new fabric friends

With several craft fairs under my belt, I'm finally getting the hang of it. But it took a mad scramble to make a completely new product to get me back in the game.

The craft fair I've had the most success with, hands down, is the one at the Sierra 2 Center in the Curtis Park area of Sacramento. My upcycled rag quilts have a target audience: Environmentally-conscious shoppers, not in the demographic that is frantically trying to downsize, and some disposable income doesn't hurt either. I've done two craft fairs at the Sierra 2 Center, and they were both very happifying to this rag quilt maker.

One year I couldn't make the Curtis Park fair because of my brother-in-law's wedding. Another year, after paying the sign-up fee, I decided the flyer was too Christmasy, so I bowed out. The flyers since then have been much more inclusive to those who don't celebrate the holidays, so I take that loss of money as a win. Last December, even with a horrible emergency regarding our dog's health and a late start to the day, the good folks of Curtis Park came through for me and made for a successful fair. 

This year I couldn't participate because of a work conflict. So I decided to finally give the Davis Craft and Vintage Fair a try. It's got several things going for it - namely a start time that isn't at an ungodly hour, plus it's on a Sunday, which works much better for me. It's outside, so weather is a factor, but hey, some cold blustery weather is good for quilt selling, right?

Welcome to November 2018, which saw the temperature topping 80 degrees this last Sunday! Did I get a lot of looks at my quilts? Yes. Did anyone want to buy one on a day that had me peeling off layers before 9 am? Nope. No quilts were sold. Boo.

But my late blitz of making about 60 "Bag Buddies" to diversify my product line was successful. Not only are they super fun to make, I used up some of the fabric that just wasn't finding a place into any of my quilts. Yeah for Bag Buddies!! They will be a part of future line ups. I'll try again in Davis on the first Sunday in December. Maybe the temperature will dip below 65 that day, and someone will feel the urge to buy a cozy and warm upcycled lap throw. If not, move over quilts, I'm befriending these little squares of joy.

Put them on your luggage handles.
Your suitcase will be the envy of the luggage carousal.  

They are reversible. 

No, they're not pot holders.
They are buddies for your bag.
And they are incredibly fun to make.

My hats are even jealous. 

The quilts are getting nervous!

Bag Buddies, they're stacking up!

Chilled to the bone!

Last December I decided to do a big experiment with my diet, and I went raw vegan for a year. Well, make that nine months, because our trip to France sort of did it all in. Not to mention I never got back on the raw routine once we got back. You can't really be a raw vegan if you're eating cooked food, even just at times.

My reasons for stopping mostly involve the amount of time, money and mental energy for me to sustain a diet that has no cooked elements. I'm not saying it can't be done easily, cheaply and effortlessly, but I sure can't do it. I feel great eating this way, I have tons of energy and my body does backflips of appreciation for me everyday I cram it full of fresh fruits and vegetables. But it's Fall, and squash is calling me, soup is yelling my name and vegan stews - well, you can just imagine how they felt when I shunned them for salads. And since our food budget has been over-the-top expensive, something has to give, and it's going to have to be my raw vegan adventure.

If the time, energy and money weren't enough to get me to stop eating raw for now, there's an oddity about my body that's been making me crave hot and steaming bowls of cooked food. Years ago when I was dealing with some puzzling health issues, a doctor looked at my finger tips and said, "Do you know you have Raynaud's Disease?" What in the world is that?

While it's a "dis-ease" I wouldn't call Raynaud's a disease - it's more like an annoying syndrome. It causes the fingers and toes to get super cold and numb in chilly weather, and they take a long time to warm up. It can cause pain and numbness in the extremities. Imagine how it was shoveling snow off my car window in South Lake Tahoe with this issue. Brrr, my body shudders in memory of those icy mornings. 

For me the severity of Raynaud's comes and goes, but has it ever come on with a vengeance this Fall. Drinking a cold smoothie not only makes my fingers numb from holding the glass, but my entire core will be chilled for up to an hour after downing a healthy but cold green smoothie. It's not fun! I love smoothies and they set me up for a great day of energy. But a warm one would be so very gross and the cold ones make me feel like I'm on an excursion to the South Pole. Once I get chilled, it's hard to unchill. This morning after my pumpkin smoothie I tried to grab a few things out of the freezer to make our dog some food. Just touching the frozen food bags made my hands instantly ache with pain. My husband had to come help me get food out of the freezer like I had a fear of frost. Brrr. 

Because of this flareup, just thinking about salads and smoothies makes me shiver. Hopefully this will pass, because I love them. But for now my body is demanding warmer foods that I can curl my little frozen fingers around. Hot foods. Cooked foods. Steaming foods. Foods you have to blow on before eating. Not raw, not cold. Cooked. My "Year of Living DangeRAWsly" is over. Pass the soup!

Chilly, not chili.

Chili, not chilly.

Plant-based in Paris? Vegan at Versailles? Bearly!

Years ago I read about a family who stealthily kidnapped their neighbor's little garden duck decoration, and took it with them on their European vacation. Upon returning, the travelers presented both the missing duck and a photo album of all the places in Europe the duck had visited, to the delight of their neighbors.

Several years back I picked up the Jessica Bear keychain while visiting my husband's German relatives. I took one picture of the bear with a bigger bear, and that was it - Jessica Bear's Adventures began! We've photographed her at the Great Wall, on the canals of Venice, in Germany, Switzerland, Poland. I got in trouble attempting to take a photo of her in a Romanian grocery store (by a can of carp, which is spelled "crap" in Romanian.) She gets tucked away on most all of our adventures, and we have a great time finding places to pose her wherever we visit. It's great on my bad hair days, at least we get a good photo of one Jessica.

Our recent trip to France was no different. The Bear and I went for 10 days, my husband flew in for just the last five. I was first in Paris with friends in unusual but terrific accomodations - a houseboat on the Seine. Then my husband met our train with minutes to spare to head down to a lovely small city in the Tours region, Blois. More on those places later, but this post is all about food, because it's France and France equals food. 

In 2016, we noticed an amazing change in both Germany and Romania when it came to finding vegan food. It was easy, especially in Germany. There were Soy Curls in the drugstores and most every restaurant had vegan options. It seemed to us that these meat-centric countries had done a complete flip cuisine-wise, much to our delight. But would France be the same way? 

Jessica Bear, packed away with the other travel essentials.

Air France did not disappoint, I ordered a Hindi Vegan meal plan.
Spicy garbanzo beans for breakfast? Why not?

The houseboat held seven people and one bear very comfortably.

Upon arriving and checking out our accommodations, our group hopped on the metro and headed into Paris. Before jet lag hit, hunger hit harder. The group was really hoping to find the perfect Parisian bistro to eat at, you know, the kind with outdoor tables, waiters in white aprons, that lovely ambience you think of when you think Paris restaurant. But hunger is a powerful force, so we begrudgingly settled for a place that advertised burgers. This vegan hoped for the best.

Not only were the burgers swooned over, and the charcuterie and cheese platter cleaned to the last crumb, this plant-based eater was extremely happy with her choice - a quinoa and veggie salad. I made entirely too many happy food noises as every last grain of quinoa and each bite of fruit and vegetable was consumed with culinary appreciation. Ah food, the French do food like no other. Why did I doubt?

A vegan salad at a burger restaurant? No problem!

Jet lag? Grin and bear it, with lots of caffeine, of course.

I thought this would be a sign of things to come, that plant-based eating had arrived in Paris, but this was not the case. I had to be super creative in most of the restaurants we visited after that first night. It's not hard to explain what you need in a restaurant, if you speak the language. But with lots of facial expressions, pointing and with our trusty French speaking Blake helping out, I was able to get the point across - I want food with no meat, eggs or dairy please. 

My biggest peeve about asking for a food change is when you're asking that the expensive part of the salad be left out, and they do just that, leave it out but then leave you with a tiny boring salad. Not in France, they get it - she doesn't want meat, but she does want vegetables. So they piled on the good stuff and I piled the good stuff in. The combos were delicious, the dressings were divine and I ate like a queen. 

I did taste the French Onion Soup. Yum.
But there it's just called Onion Soup for some strange reason.
;o) 

On the way to and from the metro each day, we passed a very fancy Indian restaurant. My first thought was, I sure don't want to eat Indian food while in Paris. Oh how wrong I was. On the last night before we headed south, I was in the mood for something, but I couldn't quite decide what. My friends were debating going out for one last meal in Paris, but something was drawing me to that Indian restaurant. I had already (according to my phone) walked 8 miles that day and climbed 38 floors, but I summoned the energy to walk back for some Indian food takeout. 

I found a worker who could understand my needs, I wanted some "take away food' with no meat, eggs or dairy. I was shown an item on the menu called Mixed Vegetables. Since I can't read French, I wasn't able to point to anything more interesting sounding, and I didn't want to be a difficult vegan, so I agreed to the Mixed Vegetables with rice. I was picturing some boring cauliflower and carrots, dry. What was I worried about, this was Indian food in France! Where would I get better Indian food outside of India? Their clientele was French, of course their food would be the best take ever on food from India with awesome French ingredients.

That was one awesome meal. I artfully arranged the out-of-this-world mix of vegetables in the yummiest and perfectly spiciest of sauces over the fluffiest of rices on a real plate and enjoyed it on the deck of the houseboat. It then occurred to me, Why was I passing up the ethnic restaurants in Paris for "real French food"? The French do food great, so they would do all the food great. Next trip to Paris, if there ever is one, will have me visiting Thai, Chinese, Vietnamese, Turkish and every other kind of restaurant I can find. Who cares if it's authentic? Who needs authentic when it's cooked in France?

Our fruit stand in Blois, France.

One night they said the sorbet was vegan.
The next night they said it had "a leeeetle milk."
It was goooooooood.

Best. Melon. Ever.

Cupcakes after the civil ceremony.
They weren't vegan, but they were very pretty.

Wine is vegan.
Very much so.

The main purpose of our trip to France was to attend the wedding of my dear friend's son and his French Canadian fiancee. Her family owns a chateau in the Tours region, in a town near Blois. It was a lovely setting for a lovely couple on a lovely day. It was just lovely, if I haven't said so already. 

The wedding was catered, but the groom's mom had the task of adding some items to the after-the-ceremony champagne serving hour, while the wedding party was taking photos. So she purchased lots of cheese, nuts, fruit and crackers along with some bread. Can you imagine the feelings of three Americans realizing they were arranging cheese boards for French people who really know cheese? Like intimately, since birth? We did the oh-so-chic presentation of a little bit of this, a little bit of that, artfully arranged in a sort of messy manner - the fashionable way you present appetizers in the US right now. It was quite the juxtaposition between our overflowing cheese and fruit platters and the sparse and precise hors d'oeuvres served by the catering company. All-you-can-eat American style verses French culinary conservatism. Our cheese boards were appreciated, but I also appreciated the different food approach as the evening continued. 

Say cheese!

The ultimate in outdoor cafes.

There was a vegan option, but we didn't get the memo.
So we just traded with our seatmates.
In the most elegant way, of course. 

When the dinner arrived, it became quite evident why French women don't get fat. The food, while very rich, was served in small portions. There was more white dinner plate showing than food. We switched and swapped food with those sitting next to us to get some vegan options. We tried to eat slowly. Pick up the fork, eat something, put down the fork. let the body know it just ate something, swallow, pause, repeat. 

Everything was lovely. We started with a pear sorbet with pear brandy to cleanse the palate. After that came the dinner as described above. Then they took away the food plates and we were served the salad course. After that the five cheese course. I was expecting overflowing boards of cheese like we had created earlier. Silly me. A server approached each guest with a platter of five cheeses, and asked which were their choices. He or she was then served a small portion of the chosen cheeses. The guests ate them slowly, savoring each morsel with the bread on the table. (The Americans had already finished off all our bread with the main meal. Silly Americans.)

It was all so refined, and no one pushed themselves back from the table exclaiming they were stuffed to the gills and would never put another bite of food in their mouth ever again. The French, they have the whole eating thing down to a perfect art. 

So if you're traveling in France as a plant-based eater, have no fear. While vegan menus aren't the norm, you'll have no problem getting your dietary needs satisfied, along with your tastebuds getting satisfied too. And when you find yourself in an Indian restaurant, just order the Mixed Vegetables With Rice. I'll happily accept your "merci" ahead of time. 

Venture into non-French food.
It's bound to be wonderful. 

Bistro perfection.