Why I Run: A Novice Runner's Manifesto

I am not a runner. And by that I mean, I did not fall in love with running at an early age, compete in high school track meets, graduate to marathons, or establish a lifelong pattern of daily running.

I restarted my running “habit” a little more than a year ago, though I still have had my stops and starts since. In fact, on most days I will admit that I don’t actually enjoy running all that much. I don’t deal well with discomfort—the hard pounding rattles my joints and aches my shins. For the first five or so minutes, I am acutely aware of every ache and twinge, the slight rub of my shoes on my heel or toe, the burn of my lungs or a complaining muscle.

I also find it difficult to breathe through my nose as directed because it seems to get immediately congested. And I must be chronically dehydrated despite guzzling down thermos after thermos of water, because I always feel thirsty.

Very few days are ideal running days in New Orleans. You have the uncomfortable stickiness of summer, even early in the morning or late in the evening. Or you have the suffocating humidity, the miserable rain. And of course, the bone chill when we actually have what passes for winter here.

If running is so miserable, why do I do it? Perhaps I like to punish myself, I’m an overachiever or I have lost my mind.

No—I am not out to prove myself or punish myself, and oxygen is still getting to my brain.

And yet non-running friends repeatedly ask me, “How can you do that? I hate running.” Or they warn me of its dangers or simply say, “Better you than me.”

So why do I run?

I run because there is a comfort in knowing my own two feet have the strength to carry me, first a mile, then two, and then maybe twelve.

For my first (and only) half marathon, I was injured and hadn’t trained properly because of it. I also had bronchitis. But a friend came into town to run with me, and I didn’t want to disappoint her. I wasn’t able to run the full 13.1, but I was able to run longer than I ever have before. And I still finished the race in time to receive a medal.

The experience was overwhelming—especially the realization that I was able to carry myself around the city on my own two (if blistered) feet. In fact, that day I ran to parts of town that I am often too lazy to drive to because they are “just so far away.”

I run because it puts me in tune with my body in ways I am usually not.

Experts talk about the “mind-body connection” but I think most of the time I am blissfully unaware of what my body tries to tell me. I ignore little aches and pains, am sometimes careless about my diet, or let stress build up without realizing it.

During a run, it is hard to ignore that I didn’t eat enough or eat right beforehand, that I didn’t drink enough water, stretch properly or get enough sleep. If my neck or shoulders are tense, I feel hunched and awkward during my run, or I may notice that my breathing is erratic if I am anxious or tired. This awareness has changed my runs, but more than that, it has improved my behavior when out of my running shoes.

I run because running isn’t gimmicky.

Although runners can accessorize with heart rate monitors, GPS trackers, iPods and other gadgets, all anyone really needs to run is a pair of running shoes and a place to run.

If the gym is closed, I can run around the block or at the park. Throw my shoes in a suitcase, and I can run even if I am on vacation. No special equipment, fad diet, workout guru or overly hyped DVD required.

My grandfather picked up a running habit as a teenager in the army and kept it for decades after. Running just slipped into his daily life without fanfare, but it is vivid in my childhood memories. I often conjure him up during my own difficult runs to remind myself of his no-nonsense approach.

I run because it’s ok to be a novice.

I have never excelled at group sports or really considered myself athletic. I know about as much about a weight room as I do about quantum physics. And I always forget which is overpronating and which is underpronating.

But that’s ok. Running is a sport of inclusion, not exclusion. You never know what friendship might blossom while sharing a path with a fellow runner who happens to keep the same pace as you.

There are expert competitive runners out there, but it isn’t required. If you choose to race, you will learn what not to do next time. I have been so touched by the great advice I have gotten along the way, not just from friends and loved ones, but from casual acquaintances eager to share their running passion.

I like to think of running like my first guitar lesson: You learn one or two chords, and you can strum out a tune even if you are never Van Halen. If you choose to race and graduate to foam rollers and gu, that’s great. But if you want to stick to the “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” equivalent of running, that’s cool too.

I run because it changes my perspective and teaches me about myself.

Just being on foot makes you see the scenery differently—feel it differently. It engages more of the senses. You feel a rough stretch of road in your feet or a gentle misting from a nearby sprinkler, smell new asphalt mixed with the wafting fragrance of some nearby jasmine, or the dusty taste of the air just before the rain. Trees rustle, ducks talk and bikes whiz by.

If you allow yourself to become fully aware during your run, these little daily variations on a familiar street help keep it fresh and interesting. And if you leave a familiar path to explore new roads you are sure to discover something else you never knew was there.

For me, however, a lot of time is spent getting to know my own inner monologue. Often it comes up with reasons why I really don’t need to run another lap around the park because I’m tired or hurting or it may start raining. Sometimes my inner me is just bored and wonders why I am running in the first place. Other times it thinks I am fooling myself by pretending to be athletic, and it reminds me that some bodies are just not built to run.

The more discomfort I feel, the more chatter I hear. I am learning to distance myself from these inner pronouncements, and just observe and even develop compassion for that inner voice. I use the same technique I use in yoga class—breathe in, breathe out, focus on the breath, and be fully in the present moment. Accept this moment—and myself—exactly as I am now. Right now is enough. In these moments, running is like a meditation.

And every once in a while, on a sunny morning, looking at the blue sky with a light breeze against your back and your favorite song blasting, you might accidentally find you are enjoying five miles around the park.

Week Four: Timing Is Everything

The moment of truth ... at least so far: we had our food graded by our instructor in this week's class. Once again, we worked in teams (of four this time).

We had to prepare five dishes from recipes, and we had to prep them for a particular 5 minute window and plate them as though they were made for service.

Cooking to fit a particular window is far harder than I thought. We had too many dishes done too early, and fired (i.e., cooked) our fish way too early. Also, the group before us ran long, so our scheduled window came and went ... we ended up wrapping all of dishes in foil and putting them on the flattop (above the stoves) to try to keep them warm. This approach works for some things and not others.

Here was the menu and a few things we learned from each dish:

Roast Cornish Game Hen with Wild Rice Stuffing (Richard)

First, I have to brag on Richard here. His cornish hen was PERFECTLY cooked and looked beautiful. Just before he cooked it, he realized that he forgot a couple of ingredients for the wild rice and had to empty it out, mix in the ingredients and re-stuff. But it still looked and tasted great. However, he forgot to untruss the hen before serving it to the instructor. Not a good idea. Also, wild rice takes FOREVER to cook.

Country Braised Chicken (me)

The recipe I used was actually quite good. The instructor liked the flavor of my sauce (basically a pureed reduction of the braising veggies and liquid with a little additional seasoning), and he thought the chicken looked and tasted good. I ALMOST got in trouble for puttting all four drumsticks on the plate, but saved myself by telling him I cooked it for family style service. He also liked the toasted almond garnish. HOWEVER, he thought I overgarnished (the chopped parsley was described as "yard clippings") and he didn't like that all of the sauce was buried underneath the chicken where the diner couldn't see it. Oh, and the plate (and dish) weren't hot enough.

Seared Pork Loin with Brennan's Red-Wine and Mushroom Sauce

Once again, I was responsible for our yard clipping overgarnish on this dish. Chef thought that the sauce was too tomato-y and did not have enough taste of mushrooms, and it was too thick. He also didn't like that our group put the sauce on top of the pork, which hid the beautiful sear on the meat. Meat was a little overcooked. The dish wasn't hot enough.

Teriyaki Salmon with Pineapple-Papaya Salsa

Chef loved the flavor on the salsa, but the dice was too big. Also, he thought that our marinade was too soy-saucy. We marinated the fish far longer than recommended, so it broke apart on the grill, and we cooked it too early, so it was cold and kind of gross by the time we served it. Oh yeah, and we used too much of the salsa when we plated it.

Pan-Fried Flounder with Toasted Garlic

The flounder was also not hot enough, although it was cooked properly. The buttery garlic sauce tasted good, but was hardly a sauce by the time we served it. We prepared it too early, so the dish was cold and the sauce had a chance to harden up. He also thought the fish was underseasoned.

Altogether, it was a great learning experience--and a humbling one. It is one thing to prep a dish so that it tastes great the moment you finish it, and it is quite another to time things properly to have them taste good at a very specific time.

A lot of foods taste good when they come right off the heat, but not so much when they are reheated or sit for a little while. Part of cooking a lot of food and a variety of food is knowing what foods will hold if you cook them early (and how to hold them), and which ones won't ... and knowing to what point you can prep something that won't hold so you can be as close as possible to done as early as possible.

I also learned that I do not know how to garnish ... well, at ALL apparently. Something to work towards ...

Week Three: Now We're Cooking!

I am happy to report that we were finally unleashed in the kitchen.

Crazy? Maybe. But the theme for week three was "major cooking techniques" and ready or not, we did it--in groups of four no less. Hey, no time like the present, right?

So what were we newbies allowed to cook in the class kitchen?

We shallow-poached fish and deep-poached eggs.

We pan-fried chicken and fish, and deep-fried fresh-cut french fries.

We simmered rice and boiled pasta, roasted onions and carrots, and braised chicken thighs.

We sauteed shrimp and bell peppers, and seared pork loin.

Because our group was so large, the chefs not only divided us into foursomes to tackle the list, but they also had half of us work from the top of the list down and the other half from the bottom of the list up. It was crowded, er, EVERYWHERE. It was hot and loud and chaotic. It was hard to find open burners or clean pans. And most of all, it was messy: Greasy stovetops, tabletops, floors and culinary students.

I am pleased to report, however, that the group my husband and I ended up in did pretty well--and our mise en place was MUCH improved. No big blunders. In fact, curiously enough, I believe the things we had some trouble with were actually those I thought would be easiest: rice and pasta. The chef rated both as underdone initially. I guess al dente is in the eye of the beholder ... And we learned the trick of cooking french fries twice. Very cool.

Here is a short-list of some of the kitchen wisdom gained from this week's class:

1. Cooking is basically nothing more or less than applying heat to food. There are three types of cooking: dry, moist, and a combination of the two. Dry cooking would include roasting and baking, grilling and broiling, sauteing and frying. Moist methods include simmering, poaching and steaming. Combination techniques include braising and stewing.

2. Fat application is a big deal since fat plays a big role in the flavor profile. The right amount of fat enhances flavor. Under-fatting means no base, body or finish to your food. Over-fatting muddies the palette. Apparently, I have a problem with over-fatting. Tricky tricky...

3. No cooking times are accurate. You cook the food until it is done. There are too many variables to know exactly. Cooking times are ballpark figures. Learn to recognize doneness by using the senses. Even the best thermometer still has an error range of +/- 5 degrees.

4. Do as the restaurants do: get the color you want on a piece of meat using the stopetop and if it isn't done, finish it in the oven. It seems so simple and yet I never really thought about it that way!

5. The magic temperature when cooking proteins is 120 degrees (120-125 degrees = rare). That is the temperature at which proteins start to denature. A temperature of 140 degrees is ok (135-145 degrees = medium rare), but anything over 160 is ick (160 degrees = medium). EXCEPTIONS: ground meats and poultry (bring to 165 degrees for safety reasons).

Why not cook meat to more than 160 degrees? Because heat makes protein molecules coagulate and the more they do, the harder, drier and tougher they get. Also, if you aim for a temperature of 150-155 degrees, you have to pull it off the heat earlier because the carry-over cooking (off the heat) can be 10 degrees or more. This is why you may have heard of the concept of letting meat "rest" before eating. It gives the meat a chance for the juices to redistribute.

This edict about the 160 degree cut-off also applies to pork. If the meat is white throughout, it is overcooked. Aim for a hint of pink. Ignore older cookbooks that state otherwise. If diners insist on overcooked pork, you can increase the moisture and tenderness of the meat by brining it (basically a water-and-salt solution at its most basic) before cooking to help lock in moisture.

6. Sugars caramelize, not proteins. To say that you are caramelizing meat is a misnomer. What we call caramelization is actually a mayard reaction in the amino acids. This process gives the dark crust on the exterior of meats that does add flavor but does NOT seal in juices.

And for the record, while we are talking about it, starches gelatinize and fats melt when heated.

7. Ninety-five percent of all cooking starts with a very hot pan ... and cold fat. Add the fat to a hot pan to keep it from overcooking and going rancid. While we are talking about hot pans ... don't heat a pan until a smokes, particularly a nonstick pan. A nonstick can give off noxious fumes, and smoking metal is not a desirable flavor in our food.

8. When sauteing, don't overcrowd the pan or you will end up steaming it instead.

9. Pan-frying always involves some sort of coating on the food, even if it is just flour. Otherwise, it is a saute. When deep-frying, caoting is optional but get as much moisture out of the food as you can, or it can cause an explosion.

10. When cooking pasta or rice, if you break a grain of rice in half or piece of pasta and there is still a bit of white in the center, it is not done. The doneness also depends on the ultimate use for the rice or pasta. Will it be served hot or cold? Will it undergo a second round of cooking? These factors must be considered.

But perhaps the MOST important thing I learned that night is something simple, something I already knew but we somehow all forgot in our culinary fervor:

CLEANLINESS IS A VIRTUE.

That night, we had to clean, as usual. But this time, we had been very messy children. To top it off, we had the joy of taking apart ALL of the very large and steaminig hot stovetops, and scrubbing them down with steel wool soaked in degreasing solution. By the end, my arms were sore, I was dripping sweat, my jacket was stained an odd shade of black-brown, I smelled of grease, and I had several steel wool splinters.

It reminded me of the summers when I worked in my grandfather's gas station and had to clean the popcorn maker, which like the stovetop burners, cleans best when it is scalding hot!

Not my first dirty job, and the chefs assured us, not our last ... But we all swore we'd be cleaner next week. Somehow, I doubt it.

The Next Food Network Star

I must confess that I haven't really gotten into The Next Food Network Star show. I did try but just haven't been able to catch enough episodes to really get attached to anyone. Even Top Chef, which I watched religiously the first season, hasn't captured my attention enough for me to schedule my life around it.

That being said, I was flipping through the June issue of Bon Appetit on a flight to New Orleans and stumbled across a column introducing the season four (is it already season four??) contestants. I might have to try to watch this one!

In the spirit of the article, I decided to write-up my own little bio:

Jessica Llanes, Culinary Student & Writer
Texas

Cooking Philosophy: Feel-good classics with fresh surprises. Don't be afraid to mix it up and improv!
Kitchen Soundtrack: I just put my iTunes on shuffle and jam.
Signature Dish: Baby Back Beans & New Orleans BBQ Shrimp
Secret Weapon: Insatiable curiousity and a willingness to try, try again!

Cooking Update: The Clarified Butter Files

Quick update for those interested (Two and counting, woohoo!). Over the past couple of days I have been trying to practice what we have been learning in class on my own. Part of the deal with taking cooking classes that meet only once a week is that you do a lot of work on your own between classes. I have been slacking off the past couple of weeks so I am trying to catch up.

The knife skills are coming along slow but sure. Still can't do a 1/4" small dice of a carrot. My dice is more rectangular than square. (Apparently I have trouble planking correctly and don't square off with my knife...) My onions are MUCH improved, and I have been inventing reasons to blanch, peel and seed tomatoes. I know, party animal, right?

My first batch of clarified butter turned out ok. Not completely clear of foam, but not bad for my first go. It is harder to get rid of the foam than I thought. At least I didn't cook the butter, which apparently is a big no-no. I have yet to use it, but every time I open the fridge and see the container, I get a little excited about the recipes I can now try.

So last night I attempted a brown stock. I used about 1/3 of the ingredients from the textbook recipe, which means basically 1 gallon of water, 5 pounds of chicken bones, and less than a pound of mirepoix. I ended up using whole chicken legs, which I am not sure is a good idea or not.

The stock has great flavor. I got about 1 quart out of the deal. Alas, it is cloudy. I think I simmered it too hard. And of course, I started too late in the evening (8 pm by the time it started simmering), so I only let it cook about 4 1/2 hrs instead of the suggested 6 to 8. I saved the bones for a remouillage (a weaker stock made with reused bones). Hopefully this one will be a little clearer. If not, I will try a trick I read of adding a couple of egg whites to the broth and then straining them out. If nothing else, I think I will make some espagnole (brown sauce) so I can try a demi-glace.

My other culinary adventure from last night was to make a marinara sauce. I used a recipe from Giada de Laurentiis. I like the recipe because it is easy to remember, tastes great, and is basic, so it can be used as a base for a lot of other tomato sauce variations, including an all-time favorite of mine: vodka sauce. I made about two quarts of marinara last night. I do vary the recipe a little by adding oregano and by using a mix of crushed and whole tomatoes (squeezed of seeds of course). I prefer my marinara a little chunkier.

Most of the sauce will head for the freezer, but I did use a little for last night's dinner: I did a shallow poach of sweet Italian sausages in a bit of red wine, finished them uncovered with dry heat. I deglazed the pan with some of my husband's homemade salsa picante (tomatoes, jalapenos, garlic and salt) and added some of the marinara. I sliced the sausage links into bite-size pieces and added them back to the sauce, topped it with fresh chopped parsely, shredded fresh parmesan and served it with fresh pappardelle. Not bad! The sauce got a little dark for me, so I diluted with a bit of water and with a small can of tomato puree. Next time I might poach in a lighter liquid.

This weekend we're tackling poached eggs and homemade hollandaise, so look for another update soon!

Lanny's Alta Cocina Mexicana

Lanny's Alta Cocina Mexicana
3405 W 7th Street
Fort Worth, TX 76107

My husband and I recently read some reviews giving Lanny's very high praise and decided to stop in for lunch last week. We did make day-of reservations, but found that for lunch, you are probably ok just dropping in. (In the evening, I would highly recommend them, however, because for Fort Worth, this place is cozy!)

Lanny's is the creation of Lanny P. Lancarte II, a Fort Worth native and great-grandson of the legendary Joe T. Garcia. His culinary studies took him through Mexico and to the Culinary Institute of America in New York. His restaurant, which opened in 2005, serves dishes that combine traditional and haute elements of Mexican cuisine.

From the outside, Lanny's is easy to miss, making it a hidden local favorite. There is currently a bit of construction on 7th right around the area, and the building and parking lot are on the small side. But I loved the cozy atmosphere once inside. Crisp white linens, comfortable brown leather seating, dark wood and soft curtain dividers make for a modern yet warm dining room. The bungalow-style patio is especially inviting, though incredibly small (read: intimate). Can you say romantic?

The day we showed up, the kitchen was out of a few dishes, but they were quick to offer several tasty substitutions.

I started with the Heirloom Tomato Gazpacho with Citrus-Laced Shrimp, a luxuriously smooth and brightly flavored soup with the color of a perfectly vine-ripened tomato. The drizzle of olive oil and hint of citrus were in perfect balance and a wonderful respite for a hot Texas day. Although the solo shrimp was almost underdone for my taste, it was still amazingly fresh and delicate.

My husband ordered a Sopa Azteca, along the lines of a traditional tortilla soup and the special soup of the day, which he described as almost a mole without the chocolate flavor--smoky and rich dark red broth, with a hardiness and great depth of flavor and tender shreds of chicken breast.

For our main course, we both opted for cemitas, a traditional sandwich from Puebla, Mexico. Although the sandwich is similar to a Mexican torta, there are a couple of notable differences. The most obvious is the type of bread used: a fluffy egg bread roll with a wonderfully firm crust and rich but surprisingly airy interior.

These sandwiches have gained recent popularity among street vendors in New York City and traditionally include beef milanesa, a thinly-pounded flank steak that is breaded and pan-fried. Traditional accompaniments include panela cheese, avocado, onion and salsa roja.

At Lanny's I ordered the Prime Tenderloin Cemita served with Avocado, Caramelized Onion, Maytag Blue Cheese, and Horseradish Crème Fraiche. It was divine! Tender and full-flavored beef with the gentle heat of the horseradish tamed by the cream and the pungent (but not overly so) bite of blue cheese. The avocado slices were bright green and perfectly ripe. My husband ordered Chicken Milanesa with Roasted Red Pepper Pico Sauce and Gruyere. The milanesa was thin, not greasy with just the right amount of breading, and the sauce was slightly smoky and not overly spicy. Both were served with fresh-cut, stacked log french fries.

Expect New York prices ($50+ lunch for two) and moderately-sized dishes. The sandwiches were filling enough that both my husbsnd and I took the other half home with us to eat for dinner (and we did!).

Other lunch items to try include: Roasted Poblano and Asparagus Soup with Duck Confit; Chile Rubbed Chicken Breast Salad with Queso Manchego, Grapes, Walnuts,and White Balsamic Green Onion Vinagrette; and Roulade of Chicken, with Chile Poblano, Queso Panella and Serrano Ham, and Sauteed Spinach.

Service was attentive and not intrusive. The wine list is extensive and a chef tasting menu is offered for dinner. We definitely plan to make our next visit soon and hopefully dinner on the patio! This definitely makes my current top 3 restaurants in Fort Worth. Keep it up!

Week Two, Part II: Mise en Wha??

So, as promised, I am "revisiting" week two of culinary class to discuss the topic of mise en place.

Mise en place is a really simple concept that can be really difficult to execute properly. In fact, I was recently watching an episode of Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares that touched on this topic. He visited a restaurant that was taking upwards of 2 hours (yes, TWO HOURS) to deliver plates to customers--and rotten entrees at that! The owner was losing buckets of money bribing customers not to leave with bottles of wine and free liquor. Wow! Why? Because there was absolutely no method to the madness in the kitchen--totally chaos and anarchy.

So what is mise en place? It basically means "to put in place." It is the before-you-cook prep work. From gathering and prepping ingredients to gathering and prepping tools, you plan everything you possibly can to make the best use of your time and resources. It can also include other tasks, such as clarifying butter, making bread crumbs and making bouquets garnis.

If you watch the Food Network, you've seen evidence of mise en place--all those little clear bowls filled with pre-prepped and measured ingredients or pots and bowls already out and ready to be used. Rachel Ray on her show 30 Minute Meals makes it a point to gather all ingredients and tools at the start of the show. Despite this, a lot of tv prep also goes on behind the scenes and off camera. I never realized how much until I read Noel Riley Fitch's biography of Julia Child called Appetite for Life. The scripts for her shows including a lot of food choreography meant to show foods prepared ahead to illustrate various incarnations of a dish before it is finished. The work required not only scripting but also an entire staff to coordinate it!

In a home kitchen, I have especially felt the effects of poor planning late in the preparations, when I realize I have forgotten to buy a last-minute ingredient or that I already used the only bowl big enough to hold something that needs to come out of a hot pan RIGHT NOW. The frustration you feel when you realize that too many things have to be done at the same moment to get the meal ready and on the table, or when you realize food has gotten burnt or soggy or sauce has separated because of poor timing, can be overwhelming.

In a professional kitchen, the effects of poor mise en place can be disastrous. You simply have to plan or you will not have customers or kitchen staff for long. Coordination of so many tasks and so many people is impossible without mise en place.

And my first lesson in mise en place in a professional kitchen was eye-opening. Mise en place in my own private kitchen has improved dramatically in recent years, but I am usually only coordinating myself, and possibly one other person--usually my husband. In the classroom, there were three or four of us per table. Each table was required to produce three stocks, a court boullion and clarified butter.

I was sure it would be cake, but most tables were "in the weeds" (i.e. behind) the ENTIRE time. I felt panicked and out of control, frustrated, and unsure of where we were at any given moment. We managed to finish everything, but not without constantly scrambling, grabbing last-minute ingredients and equipment, and in the neverending process of checking to see if we were all taking care of all of the things we were supposed to.

Basically, having to work in teams really highlighted the importance of planning and coordination. And how much we ALL lacked those very skills.

My goal from here on out? Prepare as much as I can before even coming to class, and before any cooking starts, come up with an entire game plan, not just the first step or the first fifteen minutes! Oh, and practice, practice!