Fennel Orange Salad

I think you're going to love this new recipe. There is something about the crispness of the fennel with the sweetness of the oranges that makes this salad a pure delight in the dead of winter. The measurements aren't specific, but no matter the proportions it always seems to taste just right.

Chop one fennel bulb (remove the core) into bite-sized pieces reminiscent of chopped celery. Place the chopped fennel into a ziplock back (or a bowl) and squeeze in the juice of one orange. Peel and slice a second orange, cutting between the flesh to ensure perfect little wedges, and toss them into the bag with the rest. Place the bag in the fridge to marinate, allowing the acid from the oranges to soften the sharpness of the raw fennel (anywhere from a half hour to overnight). When you're ready to serve, dump the fennel and oranges into a bowl and add olive oil, salt, and pepper. Top with sunflower and/or pumpkin seeds. Every bite will feel like sunshine in your mouth.

Chicken Noodle Soup

I have a cold. You know, the kind where you feel awful all over but sadly still good enough to function (not that many of us have a choice). When I was little, my Mom would make homemade chicken noodle soup and I would drink Coca-Cola from a plastic cup shaped like an ice cream sundae. Unfortunately I don't have my trusty sundae cup anymore, but I'm grateful for the unbelievable pot of chicken noodle soup I made yesterday. "Must keep going" is the mantra I chanted to myself as I hovered over the stove yesterday, knowing that the reward would be well worth the effort.

Great soup starts with a great stock, and there's nothing better than homemade. It's one of those things you can quickly prepare and then let simmer on the stove while you go on with the rest of your life. You can make it in advance and store in the freezer, or you can enjoy it right away. There's no right or wrong combination of ingredients, so use this list as a springboard to explore your own flavors. As an aside, your home will smell out-of-this-world.

Homemade Chicken Stock

-1 whole chicken

-handful of carrots

-handful of celery

-1 turnip

-2 onions

-1 head of garlic

-fresh italian parsley

-dried thyme

-generous salt and pepper

Don't even bother peeling the vegetables. Cut them in half and throw 'em in the pot. Add enough water to cover the chicken and most of the veggies. Bring to a boil and then lower the heat to a simmer and leave uncovered for anywhere from 2 to 4 hours. Drain through a colander and then through a fine sieve. You can skim the fat off the top before either pouring it into freezer-proof containers, or back into the pot to make soup on the spot!

The chicken will literally fall off the bone. If you're planning on freezing the stock, reserve the chicken for sandwiches and salads. If you're making soup right away, add the chicken back to the broth.

Chicken Noodle Soup

-use chicken from making the broth OR roasted chicken breasts*

-handful of carrots and celery, peeled and cut

-noodle of your choice

*Place bone-in, skin-on split chicken breasts in a baking dish and rub with olive oil, salt, and pepper. Cover and roast at 400 degrees for 20 minutes. Turn down the heat to 350 and roast uncovered for another 20 minutes.

A note about the noodles: you can certainly cook them in the broth, but I've found that they soak up all of the liquid and you're left with less stock. Bad news. I suggest cooking the noodles separately and adding them to the bowl before serving. Storing the stock and the noodles separately ensures that you'll get to enjoy all of that precious broth for days to come!

The Hole in the Sidewalk

I have literally spent the last three weeks trying to compose an inspiring "New Year's" post. Every word has felt like pulling teeth and it's quite clear that even though my topic is definitive (and now, arguably outdated), I have no idea what I'm trying to say. I've tried writing in the morning, before the influence of caffeine. I've tried writing late at night, after the influence of Pinot Noir. Neither scenario has helped me to nail down a point. I've tried to just let it go—"So I won't say anything inspiring this January. Who cares!"—but I can't seem to move on. For fear that my poor blog might collect dust all year while I remain immobilized by writer's block, it seems that my only choice is to try and give birth to whatever it is that lies restless in my heart.

I feel ambivalent about New Year's because while I believe in the process of change, I'm hesitant to get behind the idea of New Year's resolutions—to lose five pounds, to find the perfect relationship, to achieve a specific goal—if said resolutions promise to hold the keys to eternal happiness. While I wholeheartedly believe that we should take advantage of a new beginning, when anything and everything feels possible, the pressure motivating us to "get there" implies that where we are right now is complete crap. And so I feel like I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place because the act of seeking contentment and the art of being content appear to come into direct conflict with one another. Hence my writer's block.

In my fervent quest to find something inspiring to say, I happened upon a poem by Portia Nelson entitled "Autobiography In Five Chapters." I've always loved it because of how simply and poignantly she describes the process of change. She uses the analogy of falling into a hole in the sidewalk and when I read it aloud in my classes, it struck a chord with so many of my students that I wanted to share it here.

Chapter 1

I walk down the street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I fall in.

I am lost ... I am helpless.

It isn't my fault.

It takes forever to find a way out.

Chapter 2

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I pretend I don't see it.

I fall in again.

I can't believe I am in the same place.

But it isn't my fault.

It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter 3

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I see it is there.

I still fall in ... it's a habit.

My eyes are open.

I know where I am.

It is my fault.

I get out immediately.

Chapter 4

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I walk around it.

Chapter 5

I walk down another street.

I feel especially drawn to chapters 2 and 3. Chapter 2 is that place where I acknowledge my desire to change a pattern. Chapter 3 describes my seemingly uncontrollable return to exactly the pattern I claim to be so desperate to change. My first instinct is to blame others for being stuck ("She pushed me in. He made me jump!") but unfortunately I know better. The truth is, I choose to be there. And yet, when I'm in my hole, all I can really think about is getting out. I peer over the edge and imagine what life would be like when I get "there"—that place where everything will be okay—and suddenly I'm convinced that the only way I'll find contentment is by climbing out of the shadows and into the light.

Carrie Owerko often quotes BKS Iyengar in class, telling us that he believes that the weakest, tightest parts of a pose are the brain of the asana. This mode of thinking has changed the way I look at my yoga practice. I'm no longer interested in "getting there", because as long as I choose to do a pose for the sake of achieving it I will continue to miss the point. The study of my postural imperfections has allowed me to identify and apply the appropriate strategies to effect change on my mat and, while this entire paragraph may seem tangential, it dawned on me that perhaps a similar approach could be applied to that dark, cozy hole in the sidewalk. Maybe the hole's the place to be?

Determined to find out for myself, I dove into my hole armed with a fine-toothed comb and a pocket knife. As it turns out, you can only get to know the space if you're willing to turn on a light. The view was shocking but educational. Rather than following the usual protocol of strategizing an escape, I did something radical (for me, at least): I put up wallpaper, bought some throw pillows, and decided to reside in exactly the space I had vowed to avoid.

As you can probably imagine, parking oneself in the shadows of one's mind is no picnic, but as the yoga community continues to tell me that I should try to dwell in a place of love and light, I feel compelled to suggest that you do the exact opposite. The answers are written on the walls of that deep, dark hole in your sidewalk. Sutra 2.7 states, "Attachment is that which follows identification with pleasurable experiences." Whatever belief we water by returning to the hole is actually the brain of the entire operation. The process of dismantling those beliefs, one by one, is what catapults us forward into chapter 4, or better yet, chapter 5. Until we cultivate a tolerance for what "is"—an ability to soften in the face of darkness—we'll always believe that life could only be brighter if we get "there". I consistently have to remind myself that once I get "there", it will only end up being another "here". And so they say, "Wherever you go, there you are."

If, by this time next year, I'm still stuck in my hole, I'd like to think that I'll be able to rest down there with more ease and equanimity. Unraveling my beliefs has been the best yoga I've practiced in a long time, but it takes work. To quote BKS Iyengar again, "Practice (abhyasa) is a dedicated, unswerving, constant, and vigilant search into a chosen subject, pursued against all odds in the face of repeated failures, for indefinitely long periods of time. The discarding of ideas and actions which obstruct progress is vairagya [detachment]." My weakest links, my tightest parts, my holes in the sidewalk ... these are my chosen subjects, and my yoga is to find the courage to abandon the erroneous impressions which make me believe that I don't have a choice. To know that it is a choice is extremely empowering. Perhaps the act of seeking contentment is the practice of acceptance, because in a place of profound acceptance, earnest, lasting change can occur. I feel certain of one thing: the only way to embrace the brilliance within is to brave the darkness and turn on a light.

Smith and Chang General Goods

My love affair with Smith and Chang General Goods (230 Pavonia Avenue, Jersey City) began with a classic Hollywood meet cute. Billy and I were on our way to Brooklyn to visit my sister and brother-in-law, and as we drove towards the Holland Tunnel I caught sight of a new store and yelled, "Stop the car!" He had barely applied the brakes when I swung my car door open in a mad dash for what I knew would be the shop of my dreams. It remains, to this day, one of my favorite stores of all time.

I've always loved the concept of a General Store. They remind me of my childhood trips to Oldwick, New Jersey—the town where my parents grew up—where we frequently returned to visit my grandparents' farm. Every time I step foot into the Oldwick General Store, with its creaky wide-plank floors and small town vibe, I'm instantly transported to the magic of my most beloved childhood memories. Smith and Chang brings me back to this very sacred place in my heart.

Alex Chang and Sawyer Smith have impeccable taste. Their store combines vintage American pieces with everyday essentials for the home. It's decidedly Colonial modern in feel, evident in the mix of brand new Lodge Cast Iron Cookware and antique brass furniture hardware and accessories. The space is beautiful—full of sunshine and propped to perfection. Many of my favorite belongings have come from their store: old tack boxes which I use in my kitchen to house cutlery and napkins; old yellowware bowls that I use for cooking; an old wooden towel rack; soaps, candles, and my favorite feather-topped pen.

Like all good stores, you leave with so much more than anything you could actually buy. I always walk out the door bursting with inspiration and a sense of community. Their new website captures the essence of the store, and what's even better is that you can shop online! There's something here for everyone on your list, so shop local, hunt for treasure, and be inspired.

Holiday Musing

I just finished eating the last of the turkey in my fridge. I'm already going through turkey sandwich withdrawal—that perfect combination of cranberry sauce and mayonnaise oozing out the sides ... God. Thankfully, I wrote down my menu so I can enjoy the same mouth-watering leftovers next year.

Even though I kept things very low-key, I think my Thanksgiving anxiety always lies in the fact that 365 days have passed since I last manhandled a turkey. It's like Groundhog Day every year, and while it was helpful to have all of the recipes written down, what I really needed was some experienced advice from me to me. Something like, "Don't worry. Just think of it as a large chicken." Or, "You made the pies the night before which was pure genius. Instead of waking up at the crack of dawn, you sipped your cappuccino while watching the Thanksgiving Day Parade. Well played."

Since I kept my Thanksgiving menu simple, I had more time to play with setting the table. 'Tis the season to be crafty! I decided to do a big flower arrangement, inspired by an old, rustic bread bowl my grandmother gave me. When I arrange flowers I love to gather different sizes and textures, all within the same color scheme. I bought the hydrangea and the eucalyptus berries at WholeFoods while I was on my Thanksgiving grocery run. Eucalyptus berries are one of my favorite go-to flowers because they look great with everything and they're very low-maintence. A few days later I saw the small cabbage flowers at the farmers' market and thought they'd work well. I bought a floral oasis and a cheap plastic container at a store in the flower district (28th + 6th Ave) so I could just rest the base inside the bowl.

The arrangement looked really beautiful on the table.

The hydrangea dried perfectly in the oasis and so I saved them for my Christmas decorations. When Billy and I bought our Christmas tree, I scooped up a huge pile of tree trimmings that were just laying on the ground; they smell amazing and look great strewn around the house. I used some of the branches, along with the dried hydrangea, to make a holiday wreath for my front door. I bought a wire wreath frame today from the flower district (now you know where to find me when I'm not teaching yoga) and some winter berries, which I thought would made the Victorian-looking dried flowers more modern and fresh.

Ideally it's best to work on a table, but I actually sat in Malasana and experienced some killer hip opening whilst I crafted. Using garden shears, cut off 12" pieces of tree branches and wrap 3 to 4 together into a bunch. Lay each bunch across the wire frame and wrap with floral wire. Repeat all the way around the frame until you've created the fullness you desire. I think a simple, green wreath is really beautiful. Last year I used eucalyptus berries with the Fraser Fir branches and I loved the different textures, all in green.

A homemade wreath lends something unpredictable to holiday decorations. It's also a feat worth celebrating, and the finished product hangs like a trophy on your front door. "I made that," you'll say! They also make thoughtful, inexpensive gifts that mean so much because the recipient will think of you every time they walk into their home.

Have fun with your holiday decorations. Making them yourself will definitely put you in the spirit of the season. Creating beautiful things with your hands is just another form of artistic concentration and self-expression. It'll be your very own crafty, holiday meditation.

Orange Spice Aromatherapy

It's getting chilly outside and my apartment windows are sadly more closed than open these days. Trading a fresh breeze for some warmth, my home starts to smell stale, what with the remnants of last night's dinner or the perfume of my beloved dog lingering in the air.

My remedy? A pot of boiling water simmering on the stove, filled with the peel of one orange, 1 t cinnamon, and a small handful of cloves. Your house will smell like a magical holiday wonderland. Staying toasty indoors has never smelled so good.

Tittibhasana

Tittibhasana is a challenging asana, requiring an ability to simultaneously expand and contract. The inner thighs and hamstrings need to be open and supple, while the abdominals, hip flexors, and serratus anterior (responsible for spreading the shoulder blades apart) all need to be on call and ready to act. This pose gives us an opportunity to practice the balance between two opposing forces, teaching us that when we connect to our center, we gain the stability to fly off into boundless space.

Component Parts:

inner thighs

hamstrings

abdominals

spine

Actions:

protraction of scapulae

flexion of spine/hips

adduction of thighs (squeezing thighs into shoulders)

extension of leg at knee

Prep Poses:

Supine Knee Extensions - hold block behind thigh, press thigh forward into block and extend heel to ceiling to straighten knee

Supta Padangusthasana 1 + 2

Urdhva Prasarita Padasana

Cat pose into Chaturangasana

Garudasana arms

Downdog into Updog 3x - block between ankles, roll over toes

Downdog knee-to-nose, Downdog knee-to-outer arm

Parsvakonasana variation - hand on block inside foot, press knee/shoulder together

Standing vinyasa - Prasarita Padottanasana (concave spine) into Parsvottanasana into Lunge variation - both hands inside foot, press knee/shoulder together, lower back knee, option to lower forearms to blocks/floor. Repeat other side.

Malasana

Rolling Vinyasa (cover mat with blanket) - Tadasana, Urdhva Hastasana, Utkatasana, Malasana (arms reaching forward/inside thighs), roll on spine into Halasana (arms above head), roll up into Navasana, roll back into Halasana (arms above head), roll up into Utkatasana, Urdhva Hastasana, Tadasana

Marichyasana A

Baddha Konasana

Upavistha Konasana

Happy Baby + Half Happy Baby

Contraindications:

Wrist, shoulder, hamstring, or groin injuries. Sciatica or spinal herniations.

Props:

Blocks under hands for tight groins/upper back.

Stand in Tadasana with feet slightly wider than outer hip-width apart. Hinge at the hips, coming into Uttanasana. Weave the right hand through both legs and place it on the back of the right calf. It's helpful to create the shape of a "V" with your hand by separating the thumb and index finger. Use this hand position to press forward into the calf, leveraging the right shoulder behind the right thigh. Repeat with the left hand. Breathe well, using your exhales to continue shimmying your shoulders more and more behind your knees.

Strongly hug your shoulders with your thighs, allowing you to release your hands from your calves. Place your hands on the floor (or blocks) behind your feet. Slowly begin to shift the weight into your hands and "sit" on your arms. Push your hands into the floor and draw your abdomen in and up. Walk the feet towards one another and cross one ankle over the other. Continue to broaden your upper back as you simultaneously spread your collar bones. Pull the feet against each other and continue squeezing your thighs strongly into your arms. This is Bhujapidasana.

Concentrate on the feeling you had in the preparatory pose where you held the block behind your thigh, resisting yourself as you extended your heel up towards the ceiling. From Bhujapidasana, press your thighs down into your arms, as if they were the blocks, and extend your heels forward, straightening your knees. Hold for a few breaths and observe the play between drawing in towards yourself while expanding your chest and legs.

To release the body after the pose, try these counter postures:

Padahastasana

Gomukasana

Restorative Bridge

Supta Baddha Konasana