By Nora Dummer
This is the first part of a three-part series of how I, as a chef and nutritionist, choose and cook my food. This is my food philosophy, starting with how I pick the food that goes into my shopping cart, followed by how to make it taste good and finishing with how to cook it therapeutically.
Eating is a bewildering endeavor. Overwhelmed by choice, Americans are barraged with marketing to confound the senses; we evaluate each item in the grocery store through various lenses like enjoyment, affordability, sustainability, healthfulness, convenience or ethical practices. For every food that exists, so too does a reason both to eat and not to eat it. No wonder we’re baffled.
Eating for one’s own health is perhaps the most confusing. I recognized this early into earning my nutrition degree, sometime around the point where a nutrition professor told us that we basically know nothing about nutrition (whelp, there goes 40 grand); it’s an extraordinarily complicated science and a relatively young one at that. Just as an apple from one tree is compositionally different from an apple on another tree, so too is my body different from your body, and the nutritional needs of both of our bodies will change drastically over time. This lack of explicit knowledge and nuance is evident when you notice the inconsistency of messages that demonize or glorify a food depending on the day (think: eggs, caffeine, fat, animal products, gluten, sugar and alcohol). Just when experts think they have the answer, they find out they have only more questions.
I once asked my professor how, with all of the conflicting information, to know what to eat. Luckily, she had an answer. When considering eating a food, she said, there are two questions to ask yourself. One – is this something that people have been eating for hundreds or even thousands of years? (Olive oil or coconut oil? Yes. Canola oil? No.) Two – can you make this food in your kitchen? (Tortilla chips? Yes. Cheetos? No.) If your answer to both is yes, then she advised that you may eat the food without further questions. (At present, if my diet over a week is composed of 80% of these “yes” foods, I consider it a resounding success and usually reward myself with some Oreos.)
Put simply, ditch confusion by aiming for a diet full of whole or minimally processed foods that have withstood the test of time. Every food exists on a spectrum from whole to ultra processed. A whole food is any food that is relatively unchanged from how it is found in nature; a minimally processed food is any food that is only slightly changed. Contrasting this, a processed food is a food that has undergone some transformation; an ultra-processed food is a food that has undergone extensive transformation.
Take corn, for example. Corn on the cob is a whole food, frozen corn kernels are minimally processed, corn chips are a processed food, Cheetos are an ultra-processed food derived from corn. Whole foods, which naturally boast vitamins, minerals and fiber, include vegetables, fruits, whole grains, legumes and nuts. Ultra processed foods, which contain additives to alter the texture, flavor, color and stability of the food, have been linked to a higher risk of chronic diseases. At the very least, they warrant a solid “no” to both questions posed previously.
During summer, there is no better place to find an abundance of whole foods than the farmers market. Not only does this directly support the local economy and reduce carbon emissions by decreasing the miles from farm to plate, but fruits and vegetables tend to be more nutrient dense when eaten in season; nutrients degrade as soon as a food is plucked from the ground or picked from the tree (and, subsequently, sugar content increases). Smaller farms that prioritize sustainable practices also tend to have healthier soil; better soil means that the plant eats better food, which in turn is better for you. (Michael Pollan famously changed the old adage to, “You are what what you eat, eats.). If you love to support local farms, consider finding a CSA box full of curated produce for a steady stream of farm fresh goods all season long.
When you focus on whole foods, your plate becomes a rainbow of possibilities. Sweet potato fries with beet ketchup. Grilled peach salad with arugula, feta, walnuts and maple-balsamic dressing. Zucchini fritters with smoked corn salsa. Risotto made with chicken stock and carrot juice, peppered with sweet peas, pickled greens, bacon and Parmesan. To boost your repertoire, consider buying one piece of produce per shopping trip that isn’t in your usual rotation and to find a way to incorporate it. I have yet to find a vegetable that hasn’t made a good home in a quesadilla.
Or, take what you know and add to it. If instant ramen is a staple in your house, halfway through cooking your noodles, crack an egg into the boiling water and watch, transfixed, as the golden yolk becomes enveloped in swirling organza. Take it a step further and wilt some greens in the broth. Top with biased cut scallions or some corn cut from the cob. When you’re feeling brave, maybe just add half the seasoning packet and supplement with a little soy sauce and a spoonful of peanut butter or tahini. Take it further still and ditch the packet all together; make a tare you can keep in your fridge indefinitely of tamari, sugar, sesame oil, sake, mirin and rice vinegar. Too much? Okay, go back to just the egg and greens and feel some pride in the fact that you just leveled up; the rest will be waiting for you when you’re ready.
Summer is also the perfect time to elevate your salads. Chiffonade some leafy greens to add intrigue amidst your romaine. Shave a little beet or carrot for a beautiful pop of color. Quick pickle radish or kohlrabi to excite your taste buds. Roast fruit in a little balsamic and maple syrup to insert a sweet depth of flavor. Or simply use whole herbs for a little sophistication. I once worked at a fine dining restaurant that routinely sprinkled a combination of parsley, mint and dill leaves atop our salads and vegetable dishes (elegantly referred to by the staff as, “sexy herbs”). Don’t bother with store-bought dressing; instead, do as the Italians do – a swirl of good extra virgin olive oil, a lighter swirl of red wine vinegar and a little salt and pepper are all you need to make it work.
All that said, I like to add an additional question to those proposed by my professor – what is realistic for me to buy, prepare and eat right now? I know that eliminating processed foods entirely from my American diet is a nearly impossible feat. I also know that I’m not always going to have the time or gumption to fry my own potato chips or churn my own ice cream, and I know that the inclusion of these foods in my diet are non-negotiable. Accepting this reality allows me to ditch the guilt and confusion and to instead find unconditional joy in the times I am able to say yes to food.
