Pumpkin Brown Rice Pudding + Exploring Joy

Inviting JOY (in the form of a creamy pumpkin pudding).

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Happy Friday, friends! Today I have a recipe for you that feels like wool sweater for my soul. It’s a rice pudding of sorts, but it’s made with broken brown rice, coconut milk, maple syrup, pumpkin and whole spices. It’s homey and nourishing (and naturally vegan), and it’s the kind of thing that I want to snuggle up with as either dessert or breakfast. In the perfect world I would be alone, eating with my favorite spoon (yep, I’ve got one), tucked into the corner of my couch. Ahhhh, the joy. Speaking of which…

Joy 

I love sitting on my front porch on weekend mornings, watching the trees start to light up and sparkle as the sun rises over our little mountain. Last week as I sat, wrapped in the first blanket of the season, I had an overwhelming sense of joy. I wrote in my journal “joy feels like shimmering leaves, dancing and alive.” Joy is a bubbling up, it’s an opening to beauty, it’s light and free. 

The trees in my front yard, lighting up.

Often we look outside ourselves for joy. We seek the hottest new menu, the fanciest wine, the vacation, the new thing. And yes, those things can certainly bring us pleasure. But what I’m talking about is a soul-level satisfaction. It’s not a chasing, but an arising.

Joy lives within us, not outside of us. It’s always there. However, there are many times (most of the time?) when I close myself off to joy—when I’m bogged down in other more assertive emotions or when my mind is in full control mode, whirling away with worries, or to-do lists, or distractions. Joy requires us to be fully present in our bodies, not locked in the mind. The trees light up and shimmer all the time (actually, they don’t do anything; they’re just being trees). It’s just that most of the time I’m not paying attention.

When I intentionally invite joy into my day, then the most mundane of activities can bring me deep contentment—watching the leaves shimmer and dance, tasting the sweet-tart pop of a grape in my mouth, laying in my favorite sunny spot on the couch, listening to my daughters’ giggling in the next room.

In the kitchen

The kitchen is a fantastic place to invite joy, but not in some performative kind of way. I’m not talking about forcing joy to please others, but rather inviting joy for ourselves. I’ve been experimenting with setting an intention to be “open to joy” as a I cook (see why I set intentions in the kitchen here). The intention is just to be open to the possibility, not to fake or force it.

I’ve found that when I soften to the possibility of joy, then I’m more likely to find simple tasks satisfying. Joy can be found in feeling the cool crack of a carrot under a knife, in smelling the sweet earthiness of onions softening in butter, in tasting a spoonful of peanut butter straight from the jar, in smelling the peppery sweetness of basil on my fingertips. Sometimes it feels like a sparkle of light, and sometimes it feels more serene—like a soft embrace.

«I often feel like this newsletter is writing me as much as I’m writing it. The night after I wrote the text above I couldn’t sleep. I have several projects in the works (which you’ll hear about soon!), and my mind turned up to max volume. I tossed, I turned, I meditated, I read, and my mind still kept hollering at me. I finally fell asleep for a couple of hours, but when I woke up I was definitely still feeling the effects of my monkey brain. I was grumpy and tired. When I sat in my morning meditation, I realized that I could invite joy, even though I was in a bad mood. I made myself a cup of matcha with care and deliberation. I toasted up some nut bread. I stood at my sink drinking tea, eating toast, and watching the trees. And guess what? There it was. Joy arrived. While was only for a minute or so, it ended up softening the edges of my morning.»

I’ve found that in opening to joy, I also open to beauty. I’m more likely to select dishware that makes me happy (like that spoon I mentioned above, or the homemade bowls my friend Amanda made me!). I notice the contrast of flaky sea salt against the richness of chocolate, the burnished red of hot sauce slicked over a yellow egg yolk, the lush interior of an avocado. Flavors become more pronounced. I take time to bask in my meals, I pay attention to the interplay of flavors on my tongue. 

My favorite bowl and spoon

Invitation for the week

What brings me joy will look different than what brings you joy. My invitation for you this week is to invite joy into the kitchen. Get curious about how joy feels in your body (remember that joy requires presence, so get out of your mind and into your body and senses).

You can do this while cooking or eating, or both. Let your intuition guide you. Maybe you want to play music you love, or let the sounds of chopping and simmering be your playlist. Maybe you pull down your favorite bowl, or choose a mug because it feels good in your hands. Maybe you make a meal just for you, or cook something with care for somebody else. Maybe you take a pause to breathe. Maybe you simply taste (I mean really taste) the food on your plate. 

There are a million ways to open the door to joy. Invite her to guide you. 

Related essays:

• Intentional Eating

• The Power of Pleasure

• Connecting to Taste

Pumpkin Brown Rice Pudding

We all have different foods that bring us deep, soul-level joy. For me it’s always the creamy ones. Whipped cream, puddings, trifles, mashed potatoes, polenta, pureed soups… ahhhhh, those are the foods that make me the happiest. If you’re like me, then this rice pudding is for you. It’s not a classic rice pudding (although brown rice gives it texture) but is bit thicker, homier and more nutritious. It gets its creaminess from coconut milk and pumpkin, it’s sweetened with maple syrup, and whole spices give it that pumpkin pie magic.