by Shawn Kirby L.Ac.

My wife and I went to see Julie & Julia last weekend. Following the movie, as we split a baby brie and a bottle of wine in honor of one of our culinary heroes, we got into a discussion about how weird people have become regarding food. Between friends, family, co-workers, and especially patients, we’ve seen it all. South Beach, Atkins, vegan, vegetarian, raw, macrobiotic, dairy free, gluten free, organic, free-range, etc, we’ve seen it all and even done a lot of it ourselves. (Personally, I’m currently on a modified Klingon diet – I’ll eat anything unless it’s still moving).

The problem, as far as we could see, is that on one end of the spectrum, people are interested in food only as a bio-available antioxidant rich supplement that will enable them to have boundless energy, stay cancer free, look like a twenty-year-old with the sex drive of teenager, and of course, live forever. In a similar conversation about food that took place around the water cooler at work the other day, Honora made the comment, “It’s all well and good to try and eat healthy, but people need to remember – no one here gets out alive.” On the other end of the spectrum, people treat food as the cheap fuel that gets them from one place to another without regard to quality whatsoever, surviving on “people kibble” (identified by the driving-friendly packaging), fast food, microwaveable frozen dinners, and caffeinated beverages.

Of all the hats we wear as doctors of Oriental Medicine, giving advice to patients on how to eat seems to me the most difficult. I think this is because it can be the most emotional issue we bring up. I’ve sat and had relatively comfortable discussions with patients about all manner of dysmenorrhea, constipation, genital warts, and even impotence. Bring up the subject of diet, however, and people invariably flip out.

...

And I suppose this is natural. From infancy, we associate food with safety, comfort, and even love, and it’s something we never really outgrow. I had a conversation recently with one of our local Boulder health nuts (aka distance runner with skin tanned like my wallet and rampaging yin vacuity) about how we all need a little comfort food. He scoffed, claiming that there was no such thing. Bearing in mind that human breast milk is quite sweet, not unlike watered down fruit juice, I almost quipped in reply that perhaps he might like a nipple to go on top of his 32 oz. Vitamin Water. Alas, self control got the better of me.

So, what can we do to help our patients eat better? Well, you might try the strategy that my wife and I employ, and simply tell them to start cooking for themselves as often as they can. If you find, as we do, that most of them retort that they don’t know how to cook, then tell them to go to their local library and check out a copy of Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Yes, I am aware she puts butter in everything. She also explains cooking technique in plain English, allowing practically anyone to be able to cook well.

By current social mores, Julia Child did not cook “health food.” She cooked what she loved, being more concerned about the art of cooking than anything else. But it was precisely because she cooked in an artful manner that her food was healthy. The principles of eating fresh, local foods that are in season and therefore appropriate to the season are the basis of what Chef Jacques Pepin has termed “nouvelle cuisine.” They are also the foundational principles of good health according to the Huang Di Nei Jing.

Produce that is picked green and flown here from halfway around the globe is not as rich in vitamins, minerals and other micronutrients as produce that is grown and harvested locally. What would’ve been more important to Julia however is that local, seasonal food tastes better. Eating according to the seasons, following the principles of nature as expounded in the foundational texts of our medicine, is not just a better way to health. It’s the way to superb cooking.

Ask yourself and your patients the following questions: How often do you eat something that you’ve cooked for you and your loved ones? When was the last time that you sat down at a table with people you adore and lingered for hours over a home cooked meal and a good bottle of wine? Do you know what’s in season right now? Do you know your local butcher or produce manager by name, or even by sight? Do you have a garden or at least grow a few culinary herbs in pots? When your patients can answer these questions with an affirmative, you’ll know they’re on the right track.

By working their way through just a couple of dishes, your patients will begin to live, perhaps for the first time, in accordance with the natural world around them. They’ll do this by having to hunt for fresh produce, learning what is in season and what is not. They’ll have to handle the raw ingredients of cuisine, getting actual soil under their nails as they scrub their potatoes. They may even begin to realize that there’s a subtle, ineffable difference in their homemade food that’s lacking in their acai berry food bar. This difference, of course, is qi – but you don’t have to tell them that.

Julia ate as she pleased, following her taste buds through the seasons and letting the wheel of the year be her culinary guide, just as good chefs throughout the ages in every culture on earth have done. She lived a life of great humor and health until the age of 92. I think the Yellow Emperor would have approved.