Bread and Wine: Breakfast Cookies

"There has never been a sadness that can't be cured with breakfast food," says the inimitable Ron Swanson in Parks and Recreation.

It's true--breakfast can offer some of the most nourishing, comforting, and fortifying stuff for our day.

In the "Making Cookies with Batman" chapter of Bread and Wine, Shauna Niequist supplies such a recipe for breakfast that is all of the above. She wraps it in the context of the importance of feeding her family-- her husband with gluten intolerance, and her little boy who just wants to be a part of her everything.

Cooking. Feeding. Nourishment. Supposedly the same things, but not always, as I find in my own life. Let's chat about this sweet little recipe, then move over to what this might mean for our own tables, at least what it means for mine.

Pull up a chair. It's time to eat.

The Recipe: Breakfast Cookies (adapted from 101.cookbooks.com)

Ingredients: bananas, coconut oil, vanilla, rolled oats, almond meal, sea salt, baking powder, coconut, walnuts, chocolate chips

What we have here is basically a vegan oatmeal cookie that's infinitely flexible for flavors and incredibly virtuous and nourishing in just how damn healthy it is. Dried fruit? Check. Oatmeal? Check. Healthy fats? Yep. My husband Nathan and son Aaron really enjoy these, and since gluten continues to be an issue for Aaron, they're a nice snack to keep around for him.

I made them with the kids for this blog, and it's kind of perfect for that. My three-year old doesn't quuuiiite have the hang of mixing yet (the wooden spoon gets a little heavy for her) but she tries, and a recipe like this is naturally lumpy so no worries about "beating until smooth" or a fussy order of adding-in ingredients.

"Tasting as we go" we have to worry about, but not lumpiness. ("Put Purell your hands AGAIN, baby").

This particular time, I followed Niequist's suggestions and made this particular batch cherry-almond. I have found that I'm not crazy about walnuts in this particular cookie so this time I added chopped almonds, and added a little more almond-flavoring. They turned out kind of rich and amaretto-y, as perfect for an afternoon tea as breakfast. 

Full disclosure: I've made these several times now and I'm perpetually a little disappointed by how dominant the banana flavor is. The bananas make a great "glue" for the mixture as opposed to gluten or egg or sugar, but I'm kind of a crunchy-meets-chewy cookie girl so I've found I prefer other vegan recipes with rice flour and/or applesauce. But this is absolutely a great, basic gluten-free recipe for making a special breakfast, a dessert or snack very quickly.

The Chapter

This chapter turned out to be a little ironic for me and one of the reasons I follow Niequist's writings with such interest: we have similar backgrounds in several issues, food being one of them, if not the main one!

As this chapter demonstrates, her husband Aaron, and my son Aaron, actually have similar stories.

Niequist writes about the process of her Aaron coming to grips with a gluten intolerance. As his body stopped functioning normally, doctor after doctor advised surgery and injections to correct the symptoms. Finally an alternative medicine doctor helped him pinpoint the root cause, ultimately gluten.

The realization led to Aaron's healing. Far from being a fussy diet or fetish, adjusting to a gluten-free household, Niequist realized, was part of nourishing her family; identifying and serving the real needs in her own home. 

"For Aaron, the relationships between how he eats and how he lives is direct," Niequist writes. "This is not a fiddly, high-maintenance fad for him. I wouldn't deny him medicine, of course. So why would I be difficult about the foods that heal him, and the ones that keep him sick?"

Similarly, it has been my own Aaron who has taught me so much about food and rearranged my own thinking.

During his first four weeks, Aaron was nearly a perfect baby: nursing regularly, sleeping most of the night right off the bat, happy. 

But after that he became weepy, seemingly in pain. One afternoon I remember him crying piteously for three hours straight. 

While others suggested it was "just a baby being a baby," I knew something was wrong with my normally laid back, smiley, boy.

He was hurting.

I knew enough from reading mommy blogs, chatting with friends, and getting advice from my chiropractor, that babies can suffer from three major allergies--egg, wheat, and milk. A 30 day diet from those things from my diet, with slow, individual integration back in, would more than likely pinpoint the cause.

I remember HATING the idea. Casseroles! Pizza! Milkshakes! Just...gone!

One doctor told me it wasn't necessary.

Another doctor said it would be too hard.

I tried to tell myself I was being silly. 

But I did it.

The results were indisputable. After a month of my clean eating, Aaron could nurse without screaming. He slept better and had less reflux. He was calm.

No wheat. No dairy. No eggs.

I kept up the regimen for four months before finally relinquishing him to a formula he had no trouble with. But his allergies have continued, and we're still vigilant over what he eats. I've since discovered vegan cooking that's really wonderful and learned to enjoy foods I wouldn't have tried without having to work around his needs.

And you know what? I actually wouldn't have read Niequist's book without Aaron's allergies. I discovered a mention of Bread and Wine on the Minimalist Baker's website where I was searching for a legit-tasty gluten-free pizza crust and figured I should check out this book I'd heard so much about.

Funny, right? 

And really, since being forced to reckon with the actual food on my table, the implications for the other things I offer in my life are something I think about regularly now. 

Niequist writes, "The heart of hospitality is about creating space for someone to feel seen and heard and love. It's about declaring your table a safe zone, a place of warmth and nourishment. Part of that, then, is honoring the way God made our bodies, and feeding them in the ways the need to be fed."

As a mom, yes, I'm generally the one who oversees the literal feeding of my family, but in so many ways I oversee other "feedings" as well.

Emotional.

Spiritual.

Educational.

Mental.

And I wonder if I am as willing to reckon with the ways I feed my family in those ways as well as I do with what's on my table.

Feeding our families appropriate food is no different than speaking appropriate words. Nourishing hearts is the same act as nourishing bodies. 

And yet, I am good at separating the two.

I may fuss over my son's supper, but serve irritable words to my three year old.

I may preach the wisdom of the Bible, but eat junk food before bed every night.

I may have slaved over a beautiful, nutritious meal for guests, but have no energy for loving them, hearing them, seeing them and their heart needs.

This is a big idea I'm wrestling with as a mom, homemaker, writer, and disciple of Jesus Christ. As I've said in this blog before, we all get nourishment from the most unlikely places-- a boxed pizza with discipleship means more a gourmet feast with passive aggressive relatives, for instance. "Better is a dry morsel with quiet than a house full of feasting with strife" (Proverbs 17:1 ESV). But there is a connection, a big one, I think, between our care of hearts and care of bodies.

But this is what Niequist is talking about: hospitality is learning to care for body and soul, however that looks like, with the intent of honoring God above all.

And the table, our family tables, is a really great place to begin.