Melissa's Story

     I'm a widow of a few years.  I used to love grocery shopping--and my husband hated it. He just couldn't comprehend how or why I took pleasure in strolling through the produce section and enjoying the feel of a canteloupe's rind, the smell of a pineapple when you gently press the flesh on the bottom and put your nose to it, the beautiful shades of purple and grey ash molds on some cheeses, etc.  And he had no idea how I could caramelize an onion for 40 WHOLE MINUTES (!) and actually enjoy the process--the stirring, the smelling, the change in color and texture...cooking was just beyond him. 
     One of the things I missed most during the two months of my husband's hospitalization was grocery shopping.  After he died, this was one of the first things I wanted to do.  So, after a day of meetings and errands, I looked at the clock, realized that I was running very late and would never get all of the paperwork done that night that I needed to, and decided that I just didn't care.  I was going to the grocery store.
     As I shopped, I smiled.  I talked to other customers.  I tasted food at the deli. I read labels, and pondered whether there was REALLY a difference in the taste of "cheese honey" and its ability to pair with salty and blue cheeses--or whether there was just a difference in the cost!  I got carded and exchanged some banter about aging.  And as I checked out, I realized that I was healing.  My grocery cart was not filled with things that my step-kids wouldn't complain about.  It was not filled with things I could prepare quickly for my husband (his philosophy was that it shouldn't take longer to cook it than it did to eat it!). It was not filled with serving sizes for a family, or even for two.  It was filled with an organic Riesling and a Carmenere, both to share with friends when the mood struck.  It was filled with drunken goat cheese.  With a small slice of fig cake with honey and almonds.  With basil potato gnocchi.  With sheep's cheese pesto.  With single deli servings of herbed potato salad and honey broccoli salad.  With Kefir.  With fresh fruit.  With pineapple coconut ice cream and with green tea soy ice cream (yes, dairy free!). 
     And this food and this experience made me feel happy.  And feeling happy made me feel sad.  So I got in my car and I cried a little--because I didn't want to move on from my little family, and I didn't want my life to change.  But I think some of those tears were tears of relief, too.  Because the return of even a small amount of happiness in something that always brought me joy was a sign that I WOULD heal, and I WOULD live again.  My life, since that time, has been a healing journey through food--two degrees in nutrition, time spent on some local farms, old friendships nourished through intimate and sometimes emotional meals shared, and new friendships forged through nutritious and delicious food adventures. I think it's pretty safe to say that I am obsessed with food--how it grows and feels and tastes, as well as how it works in our bodies. I'd love to have you join me on this journey of (YUM!) good living!   

​

Melissa Walter, MPH, RDN, LDN

Specialties

 

Digestive wellness

Food allergies & intolerance

Healthy cooking / meal planning

Diet and Detoxification

Elimination diets