Today we’re making an updated version of a classic—a skillet shepherd’s pie that’s flavored with garlic, ginger, tomato paste, cumin, coriander and cinnamon, then is topped a layer of verdant peas, creamy mashed potatoes and a gooey cap of gruyere. A splash of bright mint wakes everything up, lending this cozy dinner a bright spring flavor. It would be fabulous for St. Patrick’s Day!
Happy Friday, Friends! If you tune into my podcast, you know that the last question I ask all my guests is, “It’s your last meal on earth; what would it be?” In the episode this week, Vaness Henry said it would be her mom’s shepherd’s pie, which was divine timing, as I was already planning on sharing this recipe today (which has become my nine-year-old’s favorite new dinner!).
I love asking that final question to my guests, as it gives us listeners a peek into what nourishes the person emotionally. I’ve never had a guest tell me that they would choose a five-star experience or even a restaurant meal—the answers are always rooted in memory and they’re most often simple, comforting dishes that carry the imprint of love. For
it was ginger fried rice, which her mom used to make for her when she was sick (or hungover, lol). chose her favorite food from when she was a kid—Kraft macaroni and cheese mixed with cottage cheese and apple sauce.For Emily Morrison it was her mom’s meatloaf, which she calls a “foot loaf” and makes in the shape of a foot with onions for toenails!
chose a seafood feast because it brings her back to her favorite childhood memories of being on the beach with her family.Emotional nourishment
March is a powerful time to explore what nourishes us emotionally. As I described in last week’s newsletter, late winter/early spring is a tricky time of year. We start to crave warmth, but (at least here in the Hudson Valley) winter refuses to give up it’s grasp. There’s rain and wind and sun and cold (as I’m writing this a forty-degree wind is howling outside my window, but tomorrow is supposed to be sixty degrees and sunny). We feel this internally as well as externally. It’s easy to feel unsettled, out of whack, or to even to get sick (my sinuses hate this weather). However, if we can commit to nourishing ourselves not just physically but also emotionally, we can better weather the season (sorry, couldn’t resist the pun). However, this often means we need to put ourselves first.
Getting selfish
I have to be honest, I have a hard time writing that. We’re so programmed to believe that we should put others before ourselves—that it’s improper or wrong to tend to our needs first. In a recent newsletter by
, she describes how this programming runs especially deep in women, sharing this line from her book, On Our Best Behavior: The Seven Deadly Sins and the Price Women Pay to be Good: “We [women] have been trained for goodness. Men, meanwhile, have been trained for power.” She explained in the newsletter:The crime of being vaguely “bad” is not codified by specific actions—it’s just a vibe. (You know, she’s a bitch, she’s unfeeling, she’s cold, she demands too much, she’s selfish, she puts herself first.) Meanwhile, the idea of goodness, you’ll note, is indelibly wrapped up with the qualities of femininity: Care. A woman who doesn’t care (enough, appropriately) is deviant, an aberration.
In my conversation with Vaness, I used the word “selfish,” which I immediately backtracked from. She called me out on it, saying:
You had to catch yourself by saying, “…it's not that it's selfish.” Right there you've identified the whole issue of our conditioning, culturally and collectively. We’ve been groomed to believe it's noble to put others before [ourselves]. We inherently know that you put your life vest on first, and yet we feel like it's selfish to take care of ourselves, to put ourselves first. So we design these lifestyles where we're taking care of absolutely everyone, not dealing with our own issues, and we become chronically unwell and sometimes terminally unwell.
Unless we commit to being selfish, honoring our needs with courage and grace, can we find true balance in our lives, and, on a deeper level, start to shift this societal conditioning.
Dynamic nourishment
As Vaness explained, food is just one element of what nourishes us. Our rituals and routines, the clothes we wear, our environments, our physical movements, the products we put on our skin—these all nourish us too (or, conversely, have the potential to deplete us if they’re not in alignment with what we need). Regardless of our gender or chosen gender, when we take agency over nourishing ourselves, paying close attention to and honoring our specific needs, we gain inner trust and greater strength.
This doesn’t mean you need to make major shifts in your routine or buy anything. For me, the simplest of things can provide inner sustenance this time of year—lighting a candle on my dresser in the morning, making meals with intention, wearing a scarf to combat the cool breeze on my neck, whisking a morning cup of matcha, meditating more, taking hot epsom salt baths, standing on my deck with the sun on my cheeks, clearing away the boxes in the basement, sprinkling fresh mint over everything.
These things sound almost silly or insignificant, but when they’re done with intention and gratitude, they nourish me both physically and spiritually. These small acts of nourishment allow me to better show up in the world fully as me, which is the only way that I can sustainably support others.
Committing to ourselves (takes practice)
Last weekend, after I had written the first draft of this newsletter, I was tested in my commitment to nourishing myself (further proof that this newsletter is often writing me as much as I’m writing it). I woke up on Saturday exhausted. Not just tired, but an achy, bone-level fatigue. Part of me—a large part of me—wanted to ignore how I was feeling and continue with the plans I had made for the day (James was out of town, so I had plans with the kids during the day then was going dancing with friends that night). I resisted the fatigue for about thirty minutes, puttering about my house, before remembering my own words, written here. It felt like a deep sigh of surrender. I cancelled my plans. I took a long bath. I made mugs of hot tea and draped the heat pad over my neck. I watched a movie on the couch with Juni and said no to the kids when they asked me to do things that felt too tiring. I asked for help. I gave myself small moments of love (a hand on my heart, a snuggle, a bowl of my favorite granola on the couch).
These were small actions (and it was a Saturday so I didn’t have work obligations to contend with), but it was good practice. It forced me to inquire what I was needing in each moment, and to really listen to my heart. The day became a gift (which really should be the right) of nourishment. Even more, my girls got to witness what it means to care for oneself fully, and with boundaries.
Invitation
What nourishes each us is totally personal and unique—what’s replenishing to me might not be right for you. As we venture further into March and encounter the friction of early spring, my invitation is to explore what feeds your soul, right now? What meals or foods provide inner warmth or energizing energy? What routines, rituals, products or even clothing uplift your heart? What activities ground your body?
Together, can we commit this month to tend to ourselves first, honoring the call of our bodies and emotions? Let’s be selfish, knowing that only when we’re well nourished—physically, emotionally, and spiritually—can we show up as the fullest expression of who we’re meant to be, and that in doing so, we inspire others to do the same.
Skillet Shepherd’s Pie
This skillet shepherd’s pie is loosely inspired from an old recipe in Fine Cooking magazine, where I worked for many years as a freelance video host/producer. (I actually made that recipe live on their Facebook channel one year but forgot the peas—I had to scoop off the mashed potatoes and reassemble the whole messy thing live on camera. Luckily, shepherd’s pie is highly forgivable, and thankfully, so was the audience.) I recently decided to switch up the lamb filling (or you could use beef or turkey), incorporating warming Moroccan-inspired spices. It was an instant hit, and I don’t think I’ll ever make it the old way again.
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