Skinny Girls Club-- 5 Star Chef Tips
Without Prejudice
The 5 Star Chefs at Camp Eden gave us humble supplicants cooking lessons and food tips we could take away with us. The good thing about the chefs, men and women was that they lived the healthy life they encouraged. Not all of us would be able to emulate everything they offered but even just some of their tips are worth passing on and I follow them to this day.
They all live in the Currumbin Valley on small farms which are self sustaining. All of them have solar power and are off the grid. They have cows for milk and butter and butter was one of their top recommendations, not marge. I have changed back to butter as margarine, especially the cheap stuff, is just plain nasty.
They grow their own vegetables and swap with other farmers when they have an abundance of something. They have citrus trees and nut trees and native trees just for the attraction and natural shade and to attract the beautiful birds and wildlife. I saw their farms before I sat for a cooking lesson or a sustainable energy lesson and must admit was inspired. These people walked the walk, not just talked the talk and were so healthy and fit they glowed. It hurt your eyes just to look at them.
They made main dishes and sweets and treats. Rum balls with no rum, berry coulis with fresh yoghurt, home made of course, a naturally healthy Bircher muesli that was to die for and was on the breakfast menu every day. We learned about wheat, spelt, quinoa and processed and unprocessed foods. We watched as they chopped and mixed and blended and realised what gunk we had been putting into our bodies up to that point.
There was so much that I had never realised before. How Manuka honey is a great natural antibiotic and tastes divine, that artificial sweeteners are made mostly from ox heart, ugh, that the basic simple things in life are often the best. Fresh eggs, fresh home made rolls or bread, how a fresh tomato grown yourself tastes as against the watery tastelessness of a store bought one, cucumbers, cabbage, lettuce, spinach, the same.
It was just unbelievable. We were informed how long a supermarket may have stored the apples we buy or the oranges, the tomatoes gassed to force them to ripen, and when was the last time you had a carrot that tasted like a carrot. We learned of pesticides, natural and unnatural, we were shown how to make our own fruit water, delicious ! Full of different fruits every day, pineapple, watermelon, strawberries and triple filtered water.
There were rows and rows of fruit and herb teas in a cabinet to try with plates of additions like garlic, lemon, lime, strawberries and when you think of drinking garlic with your tea it sounds insane and yet lots did. I soon grew bored with people that were just there for the experience, I wanted more, as ever, I always do. I wanted to know why they were there, what had driven them to seek Camp Eden. No one was that forthcoming, I was, and in hindsight should have shut my mouth.
I was treated as a "Lightweight " as far as they were all concerned I had no problems, mainly as I had grown kids and Grandkids and most of them were on the brink of a major life crisis and were looking to find answers. Most of them were childless and too old to rectify the situation. If they could have, they would have paid a million dollars for a child. I had so many, it was unbelievable, and even without my own had chosen to foster a few as well.
But when I think back it wasnt jealousy or envy at my big brood of kids, it was the fact I had been given the experience as a gift by my younger brother, the entrepreneur extraordinaire. Being a big businessman he had negotiated the price down from $3,000 a week to $1,100 for me, sharing with another female. She was delightful, luckily, but the other people wanted privacy and seclusion to make their experience more personal.
I, who never had a room to myself until the age of 15, when my older Sister married, was used to sharing and would have felt isolated and lonely on my own, was glad of the company. I had missed my Sister when she moved out, it was strange to have a room to myself. But Jenny and I shared well, she was a gorgeous girl, healthy, fit, strong, and her husband had left her six months after they married. Before that they had been together eight years. She was grieving, in her 30' s and wanting a family.
Had life, this madcap world with its greater affluence for all, it's speedy communication, it's constant interruptions left these people, emotionally empty.. They all were affluent, intelligent. Thinking people but empty of faith, joy, feeling. Two men, work aholic men were there having been sent by their wives. Too bound up with work and money and not seeing their family as the most important things in their lives. Both were on the brinksmanship of divorce, the wives despairing of them.
I felt for these men. They were to discover that their families came first, both had daughters, young daughters and cried when they realised their young children needed them so much. They needed the Dad, not the worker, the provider. They needed the kind Dad, the emotionally engaged Dad, who listened to them, were there for them, loved them, proud of them and not afraid to say so. To a girl, a Dad is her whole world. Her precursor for all males met later in life.
There has never been a woman that goes to a psychiatrist for sexual dysfunction problems that has had a loving affectionate Dad. The trust of her father will stand her in good stead for the rest of her life. I was lucky I had the Dad I had. He wasnt perfect, he was a liar, a conman, an adulterer, but he loved his girls, made us feel special, told us we were gorgeous, was proud of us, loved us and treated us with the highest respect. His Scottish Mother was a lady and his Father a brute, but he never smacked us or allowed the boys to hurt us. He was passionate about women being treated like precious gems.
I realised at Eden that Dad over compensated as a parent, realising that Mum wasnt always up to the job because of her mental illness. He worshipped her, adored her, loved her unconditionally but like many men was flawed and made sure we, his daughters, were aware of the perfidity of some men and were to be careful. I had no idea of violent men, however, I had never seen a man that crossed that line. And was to go into my marriage, so young, so innocent that violence came as a shock. I thought with enough love I could change it.
Bliss Balls
¾ cup seeded dried dates
½ cup dried figs
½ cup desiccated coconut (toasted if you like)
½ cup almond or hazelnut meal
½ cup coarsely chopped nuts (almonds, cashews, pecans)
Extra coconut or mixed nuts for rolling the balls in.
½ cup dried figs
½ cup desiccated coconut (toasted if you like)
½ cup almond or hazelnut meal
½ cup coarsely chopped nuts (almonds, cashews, pecans)
Extra coconut or mixed nuts for rolling the balls in.
Place the dried fruits in a bowl and cover with warm water. Cover and refrigerate overnight.
Drain dried fruits. Process dried fruits, coconut, almond meal and chopped nuts until the mixture forms a paste.
Roll level tablespoon of mixture into balls and then in the coconut or mixed nuts to finish.
Store in an air-tight container in the fridge.
The 5 Star Chefs at Camp Eden gave us humble supplicants cooking lessons and food tips we could take away with us. The good thing about the chefs, men and women was that they lived the healthy life they encouraged. Not all of us would be able to emulate everything they offered but even just some of their tips are worth passing on and I follow them to this day.
They all live in the Currumbin Valley on small farms which are self sustaining. All of them have solar power and are off the grid. They have cows for milk and butter and butter was one of their top recommendations, not marge. I have changed back to butter as margarine, especially the cheap stuff, is just plain nasty.
They grow their own vegetables and swap with other farmers when they have an abundance of something. They have citrus trees and nut trees and native trees just for the attraction and natural shade and to attract the beautiful birds and wildlife. I saw their farms before I sat for a cooking lesson or a sustainable energy lesson and must admit was inspired. These people walked the walk, not just talked the talk and were so healthy and fit they glowed. It hurt your eyes just to look at them.
They made main dishes and sweets and treats. Rum balls with no rum, berry coulis with fresh yoghurt, home made of course, a naturally healthy Bircher muesli that was to die for and was on the breakfast menu every day. We learned about wheat, spelt, quinoa and processed and unprocessed foods. We watched as they chopped and mixed and blended and realised what gunk we had been putting into our bodies up to that point.
There was so much that I had never realised before. How Manuka honey is a great natural antibiotic and tastes divine, that artificial sweeteners are made mostly from ox heart, ugh, that the basic simple things in life are often the best. Fresh eggs, fresh home made rolls or bread, how a fresh tomato grown yourself tastes as against the watery tastelessness of a store bought one, cucumbers, cabbage, lettuce, spinach, the same.
It was just unbelievable. We were informed how long a supermarket may have stored the apples we buy or the oranges, the tomatoes gassed to force them to ripen, and when was the last time you had a carrot that tasted like a carrot. We learned of pesticides, natural and unnatural, we were shown how to make our own fruit water, delicious ! Full of different fruits every day, pineapple, watermelon, strawberries and triple filtered water.
There were rows and rows of fruit and herb teas in a cabinet to try with plates of additions like garlic, lemon, lime, strawberries and when you think of drinking garlic with your tea it sounds insane and yet lots did. I soon grew bored with people that were just there for the experience, I wanted more, as ever, I always do. I wanted to know why they were there, what had driven them to seek Camp Eden. No one was that forthcoming, I was, and in hindsight should have shut my mouth.
I was treated as a "Lightweight " as far as they were all concerned I had no problems, mainly as I had grown kids and Grandkids and most of them were on the brink of a major life crisis and were looking to find answers. Most of them were childless and too old to rectify the situation. If they could have, they would have paid a million dollars for a child. I had so many, it was unbelievable, and even without my own had chosen to foster a few as well.
But when I think back it wasnt jealousy or envy at my big brood of kids, it was the fact I had been given the experience as a gift by my younger brother, the entrepreneur extraordinaire. Being a big businessman he had negotiated the price down from $3,000 a week to $1,100 for me, sharing with another female. She was delightful, luckily, but the other people wanted privacy and seclusion to make their experience more personal.
I, who never had a room to myself until the age of 15, when my older Sister married, was used to sharing and would have felt isolated and lonely on my own, was glad of the company. I had missed my Sister when she moved out, it was strange to have a room to myself. But Jenny and I shared well, she was a gorgeous girl, healthy, fit, strong, and her husband had left her six months after they married. Before that they had been together eight years. She was grieving, in her 30' s and wanting a family.
Had life, this madcap world with its greater affluence for all, it's speedy communication, it's constant interruptions left these people, emotionally empty.. They all were affluent, intelligent. Thinking people but empty of faith, joy, feeling. Two men, work aholic men were there having been sent by their wives. Too bound up with work and money and not seeing their family as the most important things in their lives. Both were on the brinksmanship of divorce, the wives despairing of them.
I felt for these men. They were to discover that their families came first, both had daughters, young daughters and cried when they realised their young children needed them so much. They needed the Dad, not the worker, the provider. They needed the kind Dad, the emotionally engaged Dad, who listened to them, were there for them, loved them, proud of them and not afraid to say so. To a girl, a Dad is her whole world. Her precursor for all males met later in life.
There has never been a woman that goes to a psychiatrist for sexual dysfunction problems that has had a loving affectionate Dad. The trust of her father will stand her in good stead for the rest of her life. I was lucky I had the Dad I had. He wasnt perfect, he was a liar, a conman, an adulterer, but he loved his girls, made us feel special, told us we were gorgeous, was proud of us, loved us and treated us with the highest respect. His Scottish Mother was a lady and his Father a brute, but he never smacked us or allowed the boys to hurt us. He was passionate about women being treated like precious gems.
I realised at Eden that Dad over compensated as a parent, realising that Mum wasnt always up to the job because of her mental illness. He worshipped her, adored her, loved her unconditionally but like many men was flawed and made sure we, his daughters, were aware of the perfidity of some men and were to be careful. I had no idea of violent men, however, I had never seen a man that crossed that line. And was to go into my marriage, so young, so innocent that violence came as a shock. I thought with enough love I could change it.
