Kate’s Recipes for Living

It was a sunny day in June — the day after my fourteen-year-old daughter, Anna, died. My friend Nina came to visit. I followed her into the garden and watched as she picked some chard that was glistening in the afternoon light. It was rainbow-colored chard with a soft texture. I watched Nina wash and then chop the leaves, remove the stems, and steam them in their own juice. “Come on,” she said, inviting me to sit with her. We were outside on the porch. She took two plates, one for me and one for her, and placed the cooked greens on them. “Eat,” she said. I needed to eat. The word came from somewhere beyond her — beyond me. Shock had me completely disconnected from my body. All I was thinking about was death, but these greens were life and held a vitality that told me to go on. One half of me was in this world taking care of my son James, and the other half wanted to be with Anna. I came back to life because of a vegetable, in the same way Persephone came back from the underworld for the springtime. **** I opened with that story about the chard because the moment affirmed how powerful fresh, vital food can be. A friend offered me a simple plate of chard, and that brought me out of the darkness. In the years following, some of my most healing experiences have involved growing, harvesting, cooking, and sharing food. Now, I’m inspired to curate the recipes, stories, and art that support a balanced relationship to food. No matter what happens in our lives, we need to take care of our bodies and decide what to eat, where to source our ingredients, and how to live well. My journey has been fueled by a deep interest in how to find this balance. I have studied nutrition, movement, and creative arts from master teachers and traveled worldwide to experience these teachings firsthand. I bring these skills to bear as a chef, yoga teacher, bodyworker, and artist. I place as much importance on physical exercise and stretching as I do on eating nutrient-dense, organic food. These priorities have been woven into the daily practices that support my well-being. I recognize that not everyone has had these opportunities, which is why I want to share the tools and techniques I’ve learned. Nevertheless, no fad diet — pure, raw, vegan, paleo, or macrobiotic — no cleanse, no extreme sport, no bootcamp, no amount of spinning, kickboxing, working out, meditation, prayer, yoga, or austerity can keep us safe from life’s events. I once thought, naïvely, that my balanced life would protect my family and me from illness and tragedy. Then my daughter Anna was killed on her bicycle. My vision and plan for life as I knew it ended. I threw out all my beliefs and practices, as they hadn’t saved her. I felt I had been doing them for the wrong reasons. I had to face an impossible and unacceptable reality. In the wake of her death, I had to start again. I would get up in the morning, in shock and grief, and yet the sun continued to rise and set, and the leaves on the trees continued to grow. Nature’s power was, obviously, much bigger than my own. So I chose to live and found a way to nourish myself in the midst of trauma. Seeing the state of the world now, including a recent pandemic, has made me realize how essential it is to care for our bodies with good food, stretching, healing, nature, and community. As friends and family help me heal from loss, we also help each other navigate challenging times. We can source and share fresh, whole foods and clean water. We can help each other in mind, body, and spirit. Health derives from what we eat and how we move. Prioritizing health is a way to face adversity and still make room for great joy. As my nutrition and cooking practices evolve, I’m more mindful of my surroundings, the seasons, and my daily needs. The recipes that follow celebrate the ways in which food connects us to nature, ourselves, and each other. I’ve also included my watercolor paintings, which are another way I create connection. You’ll learn to make nourishing meals, adapt them to your lifestyle, and enjoy them alone or with others. Consider cooking not only with ingredients, but with intention. Treat your kitchen as a sacred space. In the spirit of the Japanese concept of ikigai (purpose and passion for life), you’ll be energized by finding greater depth and meaning in all you do there. Here are my recipes and stories — tools for living and healing. The practice of eating well is a journey. Let’s set out together.