When I was five, I asked my mom if I could make my first pot of homemade soup.  I remember her laughing and being amused, but she obliged because she saw how serious I was about it.  I insisting that I knew what I was doing and asked her to peel two carrots and a whole onion, which I placed into a very large pot of cold water, with a bit of parsley, and salt.  Although she asked if I'd like to add a few more ingredients, I said the soup was done and ran off to play as it simmered for a couple of hours.  To this day, I can remember being quite miffed and a bit upset when my beloved soup tasted like very warm dishwater. 

But my first effort didn't put me off.  Instead, I hid on the landing outside the kitchen and watched whenever my mom would make soup.  I soon knew where I'd gone wrong:  I should have added two more carrots, three sticks of celery, a couple of parsnips, a small handfull of peppercorns and more parsley.  It wasn't long before I asked my mom if I could try to make soup again.  She was shocked when I actually asked for the 'right' ingredients, and was even more shocked when she was able to serve my soup with packaged noodles that night for dinner.  My lifelong fascination with food had begun.

My Italian neighbours' moms next taught me to make homemade Italian meatballs and Bolognese sauce at 7.  Baking started from packaged mixes by 8, and from scratch by age 9.  Most kids collected stamps; I collected recipes, many of which I still have. 

At 17, I began to wend my way through Julia Child's, "The French Chef."  Every weekend, I'd choose a few recipes and prepare three to five course meals for 15 to 40 ravenous fellow skiers at ski chalets north of the city.  Soon, I had more invitations to 'stay' at friends' chalets than there were weekends to ski.  And they'd hope that I'd want to cook, which was becoming a given.  Soon, my culinary experience and confidence began to grow.  In my mid-20's, I'd mastered most of Lenotre's rich, utterly delectible French cakes and pastries.  And preparing for weekend dinner parties was always a joyous thing in my life.

In the early 1980's, I became fascinated with the concept of growing and consuming organic products.  Health food markets were considered exotic places -- small stores with wooden bins, narrow aisles and paper bags instead of megaliths with shiny shelves and 10-foot wide rows.  If you were lucky enough, you'd be at the health food store when the produce was being brought in from one of the local organic farmers.  Organic produce was glorious, albeit hard to come by.  Selection was as limited as its availability.  But organic tomatoes tasted like real tomatoes and not sawdust, and lettuce came in colors and varieties that made iceberg seem obsolete.

My fascination and desire to know more about organic foods parallelled an equal fascination with the art of preparing classic dishes but in ways that would ensure that the dining experience was a memorable one for my guests.  "Laurel's Kitchen" became another dog eared favourite, but I rarely told my guests that the food they'd eaten was 'healthy' - mostly because they weren't truly interested in eating anything that didn't have a decided note of decadence to it.  For my friends and I, the opulence, naivete and excesses of the '80's had not run their course - yet.  

Over the years, I've also experimented with foods and recipes from around the world.  I was about a decade ahead of the trend by preparing recipes from other great cuisines beyond North America and Europe, such as Japanese, Thai, Malaysian, Persian, Ethiopian, Indian and others.  The ingredients were seldom available at my local grocery stores, so I'd often go into the ethnic areas of Toronto and find small stores and cookbooks that had been translated into English.  I'd come home with fresh curry leaves, unusual condiments, star anise, and fruits and vegetables that I couldn't even identify or pronounce the names of.  Somehow I managed, with a few exceptions, to make or invent new dishes with these special ingredients that would challenge my taste buds via stews, paellas, noodle dishes, or flans -- whatever my fancy.

Also during those years, I began to plan events.  Not just dinners for 1 to 50 of my closest friends, but elaborate, 'expense was no object,' high profile corporate or charitable events with 150 to 1,500 guests.  At those events, I was often able to get into the kitchens and speak to famous chefs about what they knew about or would do with or to the food. A few years later, I accepted a position reporting directly to the first of three entrepreneurial billionnaires. To me, their food choices and tastes were far more interesting than the corporate plans I'd have to wade through. 

Food had become, and still is, a way for me to creatively express myself and share wonderful food and blocks of quality time with others. Like Nigella Lawson, I'd rather go to a food market than shoe shopping (with hardware stores being next). But soon, food had become more than a life-long passion.  What I didn't know was that, soon, I would have to make choices and change what I chose to eat so that the foods I consumed would heal me more than they would hurt me.  

My life came crashing down in 1992:  I was diagnosed with three chronic fatigue viruses, and took on a less stressful job.  It took me three years of experimentation - with various medical and dietary approaches - but eventually I recovered. What I learned during that time has morphed into my first book, Energy for Your Life:  The Essential Guide. 

Fast forward a decade, countless dinner parties and personal and corporate events later, friends of mine, colleagues and workshop attendees who'd read my book began to ask me about what they could eat that would re-energize them and their families.  I'd refer them on to various cook books.  But they'd keep asking me:  "Where do I get the recipe for the meal you just prepared?"  And I'd pull out an index card or they'd scramble for a note pad and I'd go over what I'd just prepared.  This happened to me so often, that I never went out without having at least a few index cards in my purse or a photocopy of my handwritten recipe. 

Last year, a good friend of mine suggested that I take my ideas about food, dietary, health and energizing lifestyle choices and create a web and TV series.  And, voila!, "Foods for Your Life" came into my world.  People in my Energy for Your Life workshops had also asked me for food and entertaining ideas.  They wanted recipes to improve their health, and that their families and friends would also willingly adopt.  I wanted to give them flavour-packed recipes that would be easy to prepare and that would appeal to their senses while being nourishing.  

So, I pulled out my old recipe box.  I also began to write out the recipes that I knew by heart.  And this website, my blog and a future cookbook will be my forum to share healing and nurturing foosd that you may not want to live without.

I've used most of these recipes to heal myself, my family, friends and people who I've coached.  I'll flag the recipes so you'll know in what ways they may benefit you.  It's my hope that you'll get as many 'wow's' from family and friends as I have whenever you serve a dish.  Best of all, these recipies will fit into your already busy, time-challenged lifestyle. 

May you find peace of mind knowing that you'll not only gain more energy from the foods in your life, but that you'll also enjoy the fact that your family and friends are being positively nourished and impacted too.

Here's to your health!  Slante!

Julia

P.S.  Kindly consult with your primary heath care practitioner and a registered nutritionist or a registered dietician before you try these dietary suggestions.