This is a time for imagining.  February, which I always think of as the ‘fulcrum’ of the year, the short transition between the gloom of winter and the promise of spring, is behind us now.  We are free to dream about the future, thinking of better days.  It’s a time to plan the garden, buy some herb pots for the sunny windowsill, gather outside with neighbors newly liberated from these housebound days.  Though never fully free from what is, we can think about what can be, and it seems closer than ever.

To imagine the future and bring it within our grasp requires an open and balanced 2^nd chakra (emotional feelings, the locus of male and female energies) and the 6^th (our imagination, perception and capacity for visualization).  There are numerous dishes that are healthy for each, but sometimes its great to find things that address both at once.  Think about foods, tastes and textures whose collision with one another surprise.  Make a risotto—easy and always hearty—but instead of the usual mushroom or shrimp, try adding a cup of dried cranberries for the last ten minutes of cooking, and garnish with a handful of toasted pine nuts before serving.  The contrast of the aromatic garlic and onion with the tart cranberries is as marvelous as it is unexpected.  Or, grill some fresh plums, halved, pitted and brushed with a little melted butter, until just soft and brown.  They’re a wonderful compliment to a pan-grilled steak or roast filet, their juices mingling with the caramelized beef.  Surprise yourself.

I served the following a couple of weeks back, and it was a great hit.  The mixture of raspberries and vinegar lend a wonderful taste to the roast chicken, and garnished with a few fresh raspberries and some sprigs of mint, makes for a wonderful presentation.  Unexpected ingredients and flavors—imagination and emotion fused on the plate.  Worth a try

ROAST CHICKEN WITH RASPBERRIES

Marinade

• 1 cup raspberries, fresh or frozen
• 2 cloves minced garlic
• 1 Tbs olive oil
• 1 Tbs dark soy sauce
• ¼ cup raspberry vinegar
• 1/3  cup port wine
• 1 Tbs chopped fresh mint
• fresh raspberries and mint sprigs for garnish

Mix all ingredients except the mint in a blender until smooth.  Stir in the fresh mint at the end, so as not to bruise it and discolor the mixture.

1 whole chicken, cut into 8 pieces (I like to cut the breasts in half cross-ways, so all the pieces are more or less the same size, and will finish cooking at the same time.)

Place the chicken in a large non-reactive bowl.  Pour ½ the marinade over the chicken parts, mix well, cover and refrigerate for at least 3 hours, but preferably overnight.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Lightly oil a baking pan large enough to hold all the chicken parts in a single layer.

Place the chicken in the pan, cover tightly with aluminum foil, and bake for 30 minute.  Remove the foil and bake for an additional 30 minutes, or until the chicken is browned and reaches an internal temperature of 160 degrees.

Remove from the oven, and let sit for at least 10 minutes.  The temperature will continue to rise during this time.

Strain the remaining marinade through a fine-mesh strainer, into a small saucepan.  Reduce the sauce slightly over medium heat, until it has thickened a bit.

Remove the chicken from the roasting pan to a large platter, and drizzle the reserved marinade over it.  Garnish with a few sprigs of fresh mint, and a handful of fresh raspberries.

Eating, the one sensuous activity each human being engages in every single day, can surely be a path to balance, peace, harmony and health.  Done mindfully and with joy, cooking can be, as well.  But somehow cooking and food seem to many too earthbound, to ordinary to accomplish such spiritual ends.  Here’s what Rick Bayless says in the article:

“It’s been one of my struggles,” said Rick Bayless, the Chicago chef, who has been practicing yoga for 15 years, is not a vegetarian and loves pork. “I think that sometimes the yoga community is a little too austere, and it’s hard to talk about what I do with people who believe in eating just what you need to stay alive.”

Comments?

Of course, relying on our favorites is not always bad.  The comfort in knowing the outcome of a process, security in our technique and skill, and the knowledge that we’re about to put something on the table guaranteed to please those we love should not be underestimated.  I never avoid the familiar meal, and the pleasure my family shows when tucking into a pork tenderloin or a well-roasted chicken on a autumn Sunday evening brings its own rewards.

But sometimes, we just get stuck, and when we’re stuck in the kitchen, there’s a good chance that we’re blocked somewhere else in our journey, as well.  So, busting up the routine in the kitchen a bit can often help jostle the circuits a bit, open up possibilities outside ourselves that we may have lost track of, and get us thinking and feeling and imagining again.  A little reclaimed wonder in cooking can help us find wonder again in our world.

Some ideas for shaking out the culinary cobwebs:

–Pick something off the produce shelves that you’ve never tried before.  Jicama, ugly and uninviting under its drab outer skin, is a great base for a salad; grilled, it becomes a smoky, sweet delight.  Or, try cactus leaves. Peeled diced and combined with a little lime juice, some chopped peppers, a bit of cilantro, make a surprising salsa.  Braise some collard greens.  Or, blanch some rapini, braise it in a little wine and stock with some garlic cloves, and serve lukewarm with a little good olive oil, some salt and pepper and a healthy squeeze of lemon.

–Build a meal around an unfamiliar condiment.  Aioli, that wonderful garlic mayonnaise common in Mediterranean cooking, is simple to make in a blender, and is a great compliment to roast chicken or grilled fish.  Or, serve as an accompaniment to some blanched carrots or broccoli flowers.

–Search the back of your spice cabinet for something unusual.  There’s probably a jar of Chinese five-spice powder, crying out to be the fuel for a great stir-fry.  Or maybe turmeric will get you on the hunt for a new Indian recipe.

–Ask yourself some food questions: When was the last time you made French toast for breakfast?  How long has it been since you’ve eaten Lebanese?  Has anybody you know been craving something, and been too shy or quiet to ask?

–Set some bread to rise.  There’s nothing more centering than the patient wait for a homemade loaf or baguette.  And bread making teaches us patience and forbearance like nothing else.

–Find an old recipe, something of your mother’s from your childhood.  Reconnect with your past, with memories of family and the hearth.  Or, something you made your partner when you first met.  Revisit yourself, and say hello.

–Take the afternoon to make soup, stew, or a classic Coq au Vin.  Slow down the clock a bit, and attend to simple things.

–other ideas?

1^st Chakra

There is nothing better for grounding the body and spirit that rich, earthy foods.  This dish is both heady and light, the aromatic bite of the shallots and tarragon beautifully contrast to the fresh tang of the tomato pulp.  And if you flambé it with the optional cognac, presentation is both dramatic and simple.  I first discovered version of this watching reruns of the French Chef in college, and have made it regularly ever since.  Tarragon is a wonderful herb, tasting slightly of anise, and somewhat underappreciated in America.  Use fresh leaves if possible.

Sarah is not a fan of anything with cream sauce, so occasionally I will leave it out; increase the amounts of wine and stock slightly; the sauce should end up nicely coating the back of a spoon.

4 chicken breasts, skin on, about a pound

1-1/2 tablespoons butter

1-1/2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 large shallot, minced approximately 2 tablespoons

2 tablespoons fresh tarragon leaves, roughly chopped, or 2 tsps dried. (see note below)

½ cup chicken stock

½ cup dry white wine

2 large tomatoes, peeled, seeded and juiced, yielding about 1 cup of fresh pulp

¼ cup heavy cream

2 tbs chopped fresh parsley

salt and pepper

Wash and dry the chicken breasts.  Lay the chicken breasts between two sheets of plastic wrap, and using the flat side of a meat pounder, a rolling pin or a wine bottle, pound the breasts until they are a uniform ½ inch thick.  Season lightly with salt and pepper.

Bring 4 cups of water to a boil in a saucepan.  Core the tomatoes, by inserting the tip of a paring knife in the stem end (the green part) and rotating it remove the tough bit.  Drop the tomatoes into the boiling water for up to 30 seconds, less if the tomatoes are super fresh and tender.  Remove from the water with a slotted spoon, and either plunge briefly in ice water or allow to cool on the counter for several minutes.  The skin should come off easily with your fingers, or peel away with a paring knife.  Slice the tomatoes in half across the middle, revealing the chambers, which hold the seeds.  Scoop these out with your fingers, or simply squeeze the tomato halves to release them.  Roughly chop the tomato flesh into about a ½ inch dice.  Set aside.

In a large skillet or heavy bottom casserole over medium high heat, add the olive oil, then the butter.  When the foam begins to subside, add the chicken breasts in one layer.  Brown on one side for 3-4 minutes until golden; turn and brown the other side.  They should be of uniform color, and slightly springy to the touch.  At this point, you may sprinkle the cognac over the pan, tilt the pan slightly away from you, and ignite it with a long match or long fireplace lighter.  (This is the dramatic part; make sure your dinner companion is watching!)  Be careful not to overcook; the chicken will continue to cook after you remove it from the pan, and again when you warm it in the sauce right before plating.

Add chopped shallots to the pan and sauté for about 30 seconds.  Then add the tarragon, and stir briefly.  You don’t want to brown the shallots, just soften them, and cook the herbs just enough to release their oils.  Add the white wine, deglazing the pan by scraping up the bits of browning residue with a wooden spoon or spatula.  Add tomato pulp and the chicken stock, adjusting the heat until you have a gentle boil, and cook until the sauce is reduced by about half. Add the optional cream and simmer for a few minutes more, until the sauce coats the back of a spoon.

Return the chicken breasts to the pan, lower the heat to medium low, and warm the breasts through, basting occasionally with the sauce.

You may serve this directly from the skillet, or layer half the sauce on a serving platter, place the chicken breasts on top, and spoon the remaining sauce over them.  Garnish with the fresh parsley.

This dish can be made ahead of time; just warm over medium heat for a few minutes.

NOTE: if you’re substituting dried tarragon for fresh, use ½ as much.  Dried herbs, while not as complex in flavor, concentrate the oils in herbs.

Our imagination–our ability to see things that aren’t there, or familiar things as if we had never encountered them before—is key to moving forward.  It brings delight to little things, and comfort in possibility and hope. Imagination resides in our 6th Chakra, the site of our vision and conceptual energies.

Watching my 10-year-old son’s imagination at work is inspiring—not only when he storms about the house, wielding his Star Wars ‘blaster’ and battling nameless foes, but even when he’s making himself a grilled cheese sandwich.  He has his own technique and timing, and seems now to intuit when it will be just perfect.  And his attention is unbreakable; there’s no chance he will mess up or burn himself.  The fulfillment he finds when it’s done, when the crust is nicely brown and the cheese perfectly melted, gives him a bit of strength and no little satisfaction.  I like to think that he’s followed an image of what could be to something that is real.

That’s what the kitchen has always been about for me—a place of imagining and fulfillment.  I like to imagine there, and at times will try to make a full meal made only with what’s on-hand.

Try it sometime: open the fridge and the pantry, and go. You’ll usually find most of what you need close at hand, even in the sparest of kitchens.  All it takes is a little imagination.

The following was whipped up the other night out of a few things on hand. I confess the Tilapia was purchased that day (my wife is a big fan), but I had to idea what I would do with it when I brought it home.  Nutritionally, it is a great 1st Chakra dish, but the key here, as with most cooking really, is to follow an inspiration to its natural end.  You’ll be surprised at what gets unleashed, within and without.

The sauce is Mexican-inspired, but the actual ingredients can vary according to your taste and what’s available.  The point is to bring together tastes and textures in an interesting and surprising way, using only what’s in front of you.

TILAPIA ALLA VERACRUZANA

4 tilapia filets, about 1 pound

juice of 2 limes

1 Tbs olive oil

1 large or 2 medium onions, thinly sliced

2 cloves garlic, minced

½ cup oven roasted tomatoes

a pinch of red pepper flakes

½ cup good olive cured olives, pitted and chopped

2 tbs capers, chopped

1 tsp dried oregano, or 1-2 Tbs fresh, chopped

2/3 cup dry white wine

2 pinches cinammon

Pre-heat oven to 400 degrees.

Wash and dry the filets, and drizzle with the lime juice.  Refrigerate while preparing the sauce.

In a large skillet, sauté the onions in the olive oil over medium heat until they begin to soften, about 5 minutes.  Add the garlic and sauté for an additional minute (be careful not to burn the garlic).  Add the tomatoes, pepper flakes, olives, capers herbs and wine, lower the heat and simmer for 12 minutes.  Add more liquid if the sauce seems too dry; it should be the consistency of a rich spaghetti sauce.  Keep warm.

Lay the filets on a shallow baking sheet lined with parchment paper.  Spoon half the sauce over the filets, coating nicely.  Bake for 10-12 minutes, until the fish flakes easily but is not dry.

Spoon the remaining sauce over the fish when serving.

Note: you can substitute canned tomatoes for the oven-roasted.  Just break them up well before adding to the skillet, along with the juice, and add ¼ cup wine.

One point not to be missed: there is a demonstrable link between the amount of time we spend in the kitchen and our physical health. “The more time a nation devotes to food preparation at home, the lower its rate of obesity,” is one of a number of amazing facts he shares.  Time spent in food preparation at home is a better predictor of health than income or social class.

This should not surprise us.  Anyone who cooks, or even who wants to, intuitively grasps the salutary effects of the process itself.  It’s not just what we put into our bodies that matters, though surely a well-prepared meal at home, using fresh ingredients and a sense of joy, will be better for your health than take-out.  But the way we do it matters almost as much.

Cook for yourself.  Cook for others.  Devote the time and attention this necessary aspect of our lives deserves.  Open up yourself to the energy released and balance achieved through a meal prepared in your own home.  The benefits are legion.

This is definitely worth a look….

But no matter.  Our traditions and our calendar tells us this is the day when we assure ourselves that renewal is possible, and however difficult the previous year has been (and who isn’t thrilled to see 2009 over and done with?), the next will be better.  And  though a fantasy it may be, it is a good promise to make to ourselves.  We need to have a little faith that not only does life progress in mostly positive ways, but also that we can in fact do things that will help it along.

Like most of us, I make resolutions each January 1, and though by the following December I often regret that I’ve not kept them all, or done as well as I could have, it is good to have goals.  I offer a few thoughts on ways to make them that have worked for me.

–Make them reasonable.  Don’t promise yourself you’re going to double your income or fall in love with a movie star unless there’s an outside chance you can make that happen.

–Make at least a few of your resolutions about friendship. Renew old ones.  Find ways to make new ones.  Celebrate your connection to others, and the world.

–Promise to treat yourself well.  Health, a balanced body, access to energy and awareness count for more each day than money or trips or possessions.  I never seem to exercise as much as I promise myself each year, but devoting just a few minutes a day to yoga or meditation or simply reading does wonders for the soul.

–Spend time with those you love.  Make the time worthwhile.

–Clean your desk.  I’m off to do that now, and finaly to hang pictures on the walls.  A blank slate is never completely blank, but order can help you keep your focus clear on what lies ahead, and makes it easier to listen to your inner voice, too often drowned by the chatter of the world.

–Clean the fridge:  discover treasures there, and use them in imaginative ways.

On that note, here’s an idea for a New Year’s Day brunch dish, a favorite in my family.  It’s a wonderful way to make use of the scraps of other holiday meals, exercises your imagination and vision (5^th Chakra), and provides a great source of protein energy (1^st).  It’s also a wonderful dish to whip together while still in your pajamas, or whatever state you find yourself in after the previous night’s festivities.

Wishing you all a joyous New Year’s Eve and a magnificent 2010!

The Chakra Chefs

New Year’s Day Frittata

6 eggs

1/2 cup milk

1 tbs butter

Salt and Pepper

½ cup grated cheese (parmesan, swiss, cheddar…whatever you’ve got

¼ cup chopped fresh parsley

other dried herbs

Fillings:

The great thing about a frittata is that you can use up all kinds of stuff from the back of your fridge.  Whatever you use will give the dish a unique character.

Roasted red or yellow peppers, cut into thin strips

Steamed brocolli, roughly chopped

Caramelized onion

Green onions, chopped fine

Fresh herbs

2-3 strips cooked bacon, crumbled

Chopped leftover turkey

Chopped tomatoes (drain and seed if using fresh)

Sun-dried or oven-roasted tomatoes, chopped

Use your imagination

Pre-heat oven to 400 degrees.

Beat the eggs with the milk in a large bowl with the salt and pepper, and fold in the other ingredients of choice.  Reserve 1/3 of whatever cheese you’re using to top the frittata.

Heat a large, oven-proof skillet over medium high heat for 1-2 minutes.  Add the butter.  When the butter’s foam begins to subside, pour in the egg mixture.  Gently stir by pulling the eggs from the outside edges towards the center, cooking for 2-3 minutes.

When the bottom of the frittata has begun to set, but the top is still runny, place the skillet in the preheated oven.  Cook for 8-10 minutes, until the top is golden and the frittata has risen slightly.  Sprinkle on the remaining cheese after about 4 minutes.

When the frittata is done, remove from oven and slide it from the skillet onto a serving platter.  Serve immediately, cutting it into wedges, along with a simple green salad and some crusty French bread.

My Grandmother's handwritten recipe for Scalloped Oysters

Early in my life, Christmas dinner always seemed to feature one dish that perplexed nearly all of us under the age of 20.  Baked Oyster Casserole.  None of the grandkids could stomach it, largely because of the texture, and the taste was altogether too foreign to accompany the heartier flavors of roast turkey, mashed potatoes and the other familiar denizens of the Christmas table.  It was my Grandmother Casey’s contribution, among other, and kept its place long after she had ceded the meal to her two daughters.  She must have insisted on its appearance each year, or else her daughters must have prepared it out of their ongoing fear of their mother.

Nobody could figure out where it came from.  My mother’s family was from the rural Midwest, and my grandparents, born in the late 19^th Century, would have had a hard time getting hold of fresh oysters in that era.  I suppose they were considered a luxury; fresh oysters, rare and exotic, must have told them that this holiday really was special, that in spite of the deprivations of their surroundings, they could celebrate the bounties of life and the season with a special treat, pulled from oceans none of them had ever seen. I wonder if she thought the silence when we dug into it—punctuated only by the sounds of snapping jaws and hard swallows—was in appreciation of such luxury.

Recently, at a memorial gathering for my mother—the last one in the family who knew how to make the dish–one of my cousins mentioned it.  I was surprised at her fondness for it.  I imagined her tone was more about the memories of lost times than for a dish that, as I recall, made most of her contemporaries gag at the one bite they forced themselves to plate.

I was also surprised to learn that the dish, originally handed down to us by Native American’s, had Illinois roots.  Abraham Lincoln served it at his first Inauguration.  My grandfather, a politician himself, was enmeshed in the heritage of his erstwhile neighbor, and deeply rooted in the land where Lincoln came of age.  Serving it may have been his way of honoring one of our great heroes.

I uncovered the recipe not long ago, and tried it out.  It is surprisingly delicious, and in fact accompanies the traditional Christmas turkey quite well.  It may not be for all palates, though my ten-year-old son, who prefers his oysters raw (yes!), seems to like it.  It’s rich, musky taste appeals to him, as it does to me.  Though he doesn’t have the memories associated with it that I do, I like to think that it connects him to his ancestors on a deep, unspoken level.

This is a great 2^nd Chakra dish: sensuous, rich, and a confirmation that we deserve the things we love.  It is desire in action, and a way to treat yourself well.  It also accesses the energies of the universe through the 7^th Chakra: for me, it is a reminder of connectedness, of a heritage that is rich in memory, laughter, and the constants of change, rebirth, and renewal.  Try it, or something from your own past, this holiday season.

With warmest wishes for a year filled with love, success, and much joy,

Craig and Patrick

•••••

Nana Casey’s Scalloped Oysters

1 pint oysters, shucked, liquor reserved

2 Tbs oyster liquor

2 Tbs heavy cream

½ cup dry bread crumbs

1 cup cracker crumbs (saltines work best)

½ cup melted butter

salt & pepper

pinch of grated nutmeg or mace

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

Butter a baking dish large enough to hold the oysters in a double layer. Set aside.

Mix bread and cracker crumbs, and toss with the melted butter.

Layer 1/3 of the crumbs on the bottom of the baking dish.  Top with ½ of the oysters, a couple of pinches of salt and pepper.  Drizzle ½ of the cream and the oyster liquor over the first layer.  Add a layer of crumbs, and then the rest of the oysters, the cream and liquid, as before.  Top with the remaining crumbs.

Bake at 400 degrees for 30 minutes, until the top is golden brown.

The word chakra comes from the Sanskrit and means wheel or disk.  Hindu spiritual traditions identify seven major chakras, or wheels of energy, in the body.  They run from the first, the Muladhara, located at the base of the spine, to the seventh, Sahasrara, found at the crown of the head.  Each chakra governs a particular energy that flows through you, and connects you to the universal life force.

Six sensory teacher, intuitive and best-selling author Sonia Choquette writes of the chakras:

“When your chakras are physically balanced, you will find the guidance your require for healing, light and inner peace comes naturally.  I believe the most profound gift you can offer to those you love and to the world at large is to be a happy, whole and balanced being.”

“True Balance”

When our chakras are balanced, open and in flow, we feel grounded, safe, receptive to love and loving, accepting and creative.  By contrast, when any of our chakras are blocked, overactive or imbalanced, we often feel out of sorts, anxious, at risk, unmotivated, isolated from others, depressed and sometimes physically ill.

Maintaining balanced and open chakras can be achieved by physical exercise, meditation, listening to good music, creative activity, helping others, dancing, finding new ways to accomplish familiar tasks, even physical touch.  The key to all these techniques is to approach them with an attitude of mindfulness, acceptance, curiosity and playfulness.

Take the chakra test, listed here

http://www.eclecticenergies.com/chakras/chakratest.php

Chakra Chefs transforms the everyday drudge of cooking into a pathway of meditation, awareness, and deep connection to your body, your spirit and your emotions.
Join us on this wonderful journey.

More and more, we are building our lives, and our homes, around food. I remember the first house my parents bought after the second world war. A tiny kitchen, limited counter space, a four-burner stove and a fridge. The room was tucked away, behind swinging doors meant to block off this utilitarian, ugly room from the rest of the house, where somehow real, quality life was supposed to occur.

Now, of course, things are much different. Kitchens are the center of home design. The not only offer ample workspace, storage for all those gadgets we have to have, and the latest in convenience and efficiency. They also accommodate guests and large groups of people, often blending seamlessly into a ‘great room.’ We’ve moved the kitchen out into the open.

A lot of this drive is probably acquisitive in nature. We live in a consumer-driven economy, and if you’ve been paying attention to our current financial crisis, that consumption is a powerful engine. Our urge to have, and to display, the best that our remarkable, creative culture has produced is hard to resist. We often measure our self worth by what we have.

But there’s something else at work here. We think that we’re driven by a search for something spiritual. In our own lives, we have seen what good food, prepared mindfully, with care and joy, and shared with others can create. In our own kitchens, and in those of others we love, we’ve been surprised by the healing effects of joyful cooking. Happiness is, in fact, a good cup of coffee or a well-made scone, enjoyed fully in the moment.

Food is essential to life. It sustains us materially, but also in its preparation and sharing, brings us together in ways nothing else can. Food is communion, and connects us to things much larger than ourselves. Preparing food is a kind of meditation, through the practical ritual of imagining, preparing and sharing, a chance to step outside of the noise of life and reconnect with the elemental, and the eternal.

Craig’s friend Tim, a life-long cook, puts it this way.

“…. although Lord knows the kitchen can be hot and furious and hectic and ALWAYS too small, there is a kind of serenity about it. Even if you have shitty knife skills (like me), something reassures when you mince an onion quite finely; there are so many possibilities in the perfume of garlic simmering in oil; what bad thing can happen when there’s fresh basil and new strawberries and fine, ruddy pears? Liking to eat is not the same thing–some gluttons define ‘taker’ to me–but looking around the table to see all in that sharing shimmer of quiet consuming–isn’t that one deeply profound way to know what love is like.”

We think that says it all.

For Craig and Patrick, food has been a life-long fascination. We are both husbands and fathers. We are proud residents of a supportive and warm community of neighbors, many of whom have become close friends. For most of our adult lives, the kitchen has been a center, a source of inspiration, a place of safety and comfort, and the ground on which most of our intimate relationships stand. Sounds a little overblown, I guess, but cooking and the pleasures of the table are for us a source of some of life’s greatest joy.

We’ve also traveled widely, and found that food is a great way of understanding culture, history, and the fabric of the lives of others.

Most importantly, and what sets us apart, is that over the years we’ve discovered a deep connection between food, its preparation, and the energy systems of the body—the Seven Chakras.

The system of the seven chakras, drawn from Indian spiritual traditions, identifies the energetic centers of the body. When balanced and in flow, your chakras are the key to physical and spiritual health. And food can be a wonderful path to chakras that are open, healthy and in flow.

So, why are we doing this? Aren’t there enough websites, blogs, cable shows (and whole networks!), devoted to the culinary arts?

Chakra Chefs promises to be different. In our blog, on our website, and through our innovative 52 part cooking series, we will help you connect with the spiritual and healing aspects of good cooking and good food. The foods you chose to eat, and the joy and mindfulness with which you prepare them, can be a path to meditation, awareness and peace.

For those of us who have too often approached the kitchen with dread, who like so many have a love hate relationship to food, Chakra Chefs will unburden the process, and make your kitchen a space of joy and transformation.

Over the weeks, will explore lots of topics:

–reports from our wide –ranging travels, the foods we eat, the cooking we learn, the imagination we find that inspires us.

–Suggestions for seasonal foods, so you can take advantage of the bounties of farmer’s markets and locally grown ingredients.

–Suggestions of how to use food and cooking as a way to relax, reconnect, and reenergize.

–Discussions of unusual, neglected, or daunting foods and recipes, demystified and made accessible.

–Stories of the beneficent power of a variety of dishes, from the meditation of making bread to the patience learned through mastery of a complex dish.

–Links to other sites and blogs concerning charkra health, meditation, spirituality.

–Exploration of the links between body and spirit, the singular self and the richness of the universe, as expressed through the magic transformations that can happen in your kitchen.

We invite you to join us on this adventure, and follow us into a rich and rewarding journey of discovery—of wonderful food, of great stories, and of the astonishing magic found through the common art of cooking.

Next week, we’ll explore the mysteries and power of the body’s seven Chakras, and discuss the spiritual powers of good food.