Intuitive eating: What the eff does it mean? Dude, y’all, it’s so-freaking simple. How about this? Eat real, whole food that you prepare yourself. Forget the processed, packaged shit like diet drinks and low-fat cookies. That’s right—none of the fake shit, only the hot shit. PS: It’s also ok if others whip-it-up for you fresh, like the freaking-delicious falafel that Dasha (one of my bffs visiting me here in Berlin) and I snarfed down at a street-side eatery earlier this afternoon.
There’s no better way to heed your body’s call for good, healthy grub than taking daily trips to the market. Visiting my neighborhood organic grocer (here, they call them biomarkts) is perhaps my favorite post-workday pastime. (Or at least a close second to ass-kicking Ashtanga yoga or else a big, fat Berlinische beer with aforementioned falafel.) There’s something deliciously sensual about selecting a yellow bell pepper from a big wicker basket, and thumbing its flesh to determine if its nosh-ready ripe, taking a dainty whiff of its sunburst-bright scent, inspecting its hue…I could go on. My sensory engagement couples with my own sense of awe and wonder at the miracle of farm-to-market abundance. It’s the real deal, and it gets me off.
Today’s delectables included a boutique Swiss cheese, firm German apple, day-old quarter-loaf brown bread from the in-house baker which I scored for less than one euro, as well as my new oh-my-god-favorite-forever-and-ever vegetable, the kohlrabi. Any one of my friends (um, and blog readers) can tell you of my long-standing love affair with crucifers, the family of plants that includes broccoli, cabbage, cauliflower, bok choy and other green yums. Their big-time health benefits, for me, are just a coincidental byproduct. I actually love broccoli for its taste, which is why kohlrabi kicks ass. Somehow, it summarizes the very essence of the crucifer family. Earthy and sweet, something about the kohlrabi reminds my palate of spring-green shoots jutting out of loamy earth.
So pleasing I found my biomarkt treasures that I took ’em all home and ate ’em raw—even the kohlrabi, which I thinly sliced and salted. That’s how I like it best, y’all. None of the fake shit. Nothing but the hot shit. Just real, whole food that I prepared myself.