food to glow

I’d like you to humour me for a few paragraphs.

I want you to slip on some imaginary shoes – I am assuming you are already dressed – and walk into town. If you are lucky you will notice trees in leaf, with maybe some flower buds ready to burst or are in full, radiant bloom. There may be gardens to admire – crimson clematis scrambling up walls and fences, cool ferns enjoying the shade, window boxes and flower beds rammed with colour, scent and texture. Pleasant isn’t it? Restful, but also exciting to the eye. Nurturing to the soul.

Now, turn a corner. The ‘gardens’ are bare and unkempt. Browns, beiges and greys dominate. Hard landscaping is completely unrelieved by soft planting or soaring trees. You scurry away quickly from this soulless environment, and back around the corner.

Now transport yourself to a popular steak house. It is jolly, the brickwork is on-trend, the music is pumping, the wait staff quick with the menus and drinks. You are in for a good night. A real treat in fact.

Scan the menu for something mid-price and filling: there isn’t much difference in the offerings other than price and cut. The steak, chips and side salad will do nicely, thank you very much.  As you wait you look around at all the other diners who have ordered. You observe, and are slightly taken aback by, a sea of brown and beige, of congealing gristle (you are omniscient in this moment and can see onto the plates from above); some patrons sawing away with serrated knives and deep intent. At least they aren’t on their phones, you think. You order, you eat, you are full. You go home to digest, slowly and possibly painfully. Your sleep is interrupted. The next day, as you dash out of the door, late from too many presses of the snooze button, you crave beyond reason freshness. Greenness. Colour.

One last tortured ask from me: replace that night with a visit to that new seasonal restaurant everyone has been talking about. The one that is jolly, with on-trend brickwork, great sounds and terrific, informed service. In you walk – be careful not to knock over the boxes of citrus and bright hot peppers waiting to be taken to the kitchen. You notice that the space is filled with diners eating and very much enjoying plates of vibrantly coloured, fresh, food. Lots of chatter and forks being proffered across tables.

You are handed the menu and it takes an age for you to decide, even though the menu is a hastily written, one-sided sheet. There is so much to choose from: it reads so well and so thoughtfully. There are some meat and fish dishes, but vegetables, fruits, grains, beans, seeds and herbs dominate – even in the meat choices. As you hem and haw, your dining companions laugh at your befuddlement, take away your menu and order for you. Too many beautiful sounding options, you sigh. You dine, you chat, you dip things, you scoop others: you don’t think much about the food other than it is beautiful and tastes uncommonly good for just a bunch of plants. It is easy, it is restful. You sleep sweetly and digest well, awakening with energy and wellbeing. You eat breakfast calmly and without hurry. Work awaits, but you remember to grab that box of roasted rainbow vegetables made for your lunches this week, adding a wee tub of sriracha-doused hummus for good measure.

Am I over-reaching with my scenario?

I really don’t think so.

Plants rock. Treat yourself.

I am really happy to be popping this recipe over to the following extremely suitable recipe round-ups and blog hops:

Meat Free Mondays – Tinned Tomatoes

Extra Veg – Veggie Desserts, Fuss Free Flavours, Utterly Scrummy

No Croutons Required – Lisa’s Kitchen and Tinned Tomatoes

Simple And In Season – Elizabeth’s Kitchen Diary and Ren Behan