I never thought I’d be sore from yoga. But, shortly after rolling out of bed yesterday morning, my body was ACHING. Despite the dramatic caps, I’m referring to the good kind of aching that makes you feel accomplished ;). Nevertheless, soreness is soreness. And I was sore in places I didn’t know could be exercised. In honor of The Office’s premiere tomorrow, I’ll throw in a that’s what she said. But, mostly, I’m referring to unexpected innocent body parts like my ankles and elbows. Random, I know.
Monday’s 10:30p.m. dinner and 11p.m. ice cream “calcium intake” kept me full into the morning, so I wanted a light breakfast. Since my fridge is currently harboring a peach-packed produce drawer, I decided to try out this peach crisp breakfast that’s been on my mind since I found it.
In the mix: sliced peaches warmed in the microwave for 90 seconds and topped with brown sugar and cinnamon; topped with 1/2 cup plain greek yogurt and honey; more cinnamon; topped with a 7 grain honey toasted TLC Kashi bar.
On a whim, I warmed the Kashi bar in the microwave for 20 seconds. What a wondrous whim that proved to be. Warm kashi –> even more of a peach crisp taste.
One of the most satisfying DPAABs (desserts-parading-around-as-breakfasts) I’ve ever had. I strongly encourage you to try it.
My only criterion for lunch was that it properly fuel me for my second crack at Bikram yoga. My mind—and stomach—associate fuel with peanut butter and bananas, so lunch was a jazzed-up version of the trustworthy PB&B duo.
PB & Banana Quesadilla
-1 banana, sliced thinly
-1 whole wheat tortilla
-2 tbsp. peanut butter
Heat a non-stick skillet to medium-low and warm on side of the tortilla for 1 minute. Remove tortilla from heat, and smear peanut butter on one half. Return to skillet, and add sliced banana to the other half. Reduce heat to low, and warm until the underside begins to brown and the peanut butter bubbles slightly. “Close” the tortilla, and brown on each side for 1 minute—pressing with a spatula for several seconds on each side.
Melty PB & banana at its finest.
Halved to decrease inevitable messiness, and accompanied by fresh figs and dried apricots.
This would be the last impeccable bite. I’m still not sure how I mustered up the self-control to stop and take a picture instead of immediately inhaling it.
2 thumbs up to this lunch for being perfect yogi fuel :).
Foodie’s Foray into Yoga – Day 2
Yesterday, I opted for the studio’s 6p.m. class because the 10:30 p.m. scarf-down-my-dinner necessitated by the 8p.m. class wasn’t really my foodie style. I figured a 6p.m. class would leave me home and showered by the not-ungodly-to-be-eating-dinner time of 8:30p.m.
Now, the title of this post does not refer to me. I do, indeed, live in Brooklyn. And, perhaps, I am a blooming yogi, but I’m no yogi yet. My title is in homage to last night’s instructor, who was the most hysterically entertaining embodiment of every Brooklyn stereotype… with a hint of yogi.
I am absolutely in love with my hometown, and I represent Brooklyn with the utmost pride. But the many stereotypes of loud mouths, cringe-inducing accents and aggressive behavior—while not characteristic of all Brooklyn residents—do stem from reality and run rampant through the streets of Brooklyn on a daily basis. I’ve grown to find this culturally-unique breed of Brooklyn-ites quite comical, though I understand why outsiders may be intimidated/offended/repulsed ;).
Last night’s yoga instructor was definitely of this aforementioned breed. His demeanor was far more Brooklyn than it was Bikram. He basically pimp-walked into the class—boasting a speedini and an abundance of chest hair—and addressed the class with a “Ok, let’s do dis, you guys!”
He had that typical Brooklyn “I’m talking like I’m at a Yankee game” tone, and it definitely threw me off. Speaking as one of the few Brookly-nites who bears no semblance of a New York accent (it’s weird, no one in my family sounds like they’re from New York), deep Brooklyn accents always amuse me. Throw one into a peaceful yoga setting, and the entertainment potential of the accent transitions to hyperbolic hilariousness. That said, I definitely awkwardly giggled throughout the first few minutes of class.
I tried to ignore the comedic aspect of the instructor for the rest of the class—because I knew I wouldn’t be able to focus or reap all of the benefits of Bikram if I didn’t do my best to take him seriously. A few repeated phrases emphasized his intense Brooklyn-ness—such as, “Open ya body like flowah petal bloomin’” and “Just do it, you guys, keep workin’ on a cell-u-lah level”—during which I internally chuckled. But, other than that, last night’s yoga session actually felt more intense and rewarding than my first night. This could just be because I had a better understanding of the poses and what was coming next, but—surprisingly—his unique energy really worked for (and entertained) me.
I guess this just shows that yoga doesn’t discriminate against any shapes, sizes or wretched accents ;).
Day 2 verdict: Still loving it, still feeling sore, still excited to go back for more!
I planned on having a monster salad for dinner, but I was weirdly in the mood for chicken. I rarely eat meat—only because I generally prefer the taste of veggies—but, on occasion, I crave it. Last night was one of those nights.
I cooked the (gigantic) chicken breast in a little EVOO and garlic and topped it with roasted cherry tomatoes—fresh from the garden!
On the side, I sauteed onions, peppers, mushrooms and carrots in Soy Vay—a.k.a. my a vegetable’s best friend. Soy Vay really does wonders for plain veggies when you want ‘em to pack a bit more flavor.
What a well-balanced plate! I usually prefer the veggies, but last night the chicken stole the show. So, I ate all the veggies first and saved the best for last. When you like one part of your meal better than the other, do you eat it first or last? I always get the runner-up out of the way first. Maybe I’m just weird.
Last night’s perfect bite: super crispy slice of chicken with mushroom and roasted cherry tomato. I died a little…
Come dessert, I still had my peachy crisp breakfast on the brain. But instead of repeating it, I opted for some peaches and cream. Know what I mean? (112, anyone?)
The bottom of the bowl ended up pretty creamless, but—remembering my maple syrup + peach = deliciousness discovery—I threw on a little maple love.
I hope everyone’s having a peachy keen hump day 😉
TWSS. Just another friendly reminder that The Office comes back mañana!
Namaste from a burgeoning Brooklyn yogi,