Goodbye, foul decade; don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.

It’s been quite a bang-up ten years, hasn’t it? And not just for me. Almost everyone I’ve spoken to seems to have experienced a lengthy period of exceptionally bad karma since 2000. Let’s start first with the arrival of Dubya. Now, it matters not one iota if you’re a Republican or a Democrat, a Liberal or a Conservative: we could have done better than supposedly electing a man who ultimately couldn’t watch television and eat a pretzel at the same time. Then came 2001, the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, and the deaths in Pennsylvania of an entire plane-load of people who were merely trying to get from point A to point B. The decade also brought us Katherine Harris and hanging chads; Mad Cow Disease and anthrax; the space shuttle Columbia, and Enron; Monsanto running roughshod over virtually every farmer in the nation; Abu Ghraib and Beslan; an Asian tsunami, Scooter Libby, and Alberto Gonzalez; Benazir Bhutto, Tom DeLay, Randy Cunningham, Harriet Miers, and, just when we thought things couldn’t get much worse, Hurricane Katrina, the destruction of an American city, and Heckuva Job, Brownie.

I could go on, and so could you. And that’s just the public stuff.

But what does this have to do with walking in the snow as a prescription, and the very last thing I received in 2009? Because it was the exclamation point at the end of my personal decade of ennui; it was like the gods were chuckling and blowing me a Bronx cheer. Apparently, I have spent so much time over the last ten years sitting on my rear reading about all of these events, that my body has sort of settled, like a building, and my genetic makeup came calling. High blood pressure? Check. High cholesterol? Check. Weight gain? Check. Add to this my line of work, and I became the unwitting patron lady bountiful of the health insurance industry, not to mention my local pharmacy. Something’s not right here.

Now that I’ve become a bit more conscious of the fact that I spend days–on end–either sitting on my ass and watching life unfold, or standing in the kitchen and cooking food that I eat too much of, I was a bit shocked when Susan and I had our almost-annual New Year’s Day open house pot luck for our neighbors: we opened up the dining room table as far as it could go, and by noon, it was laden with the foods that I would usually find myself drawn to like a hysterical hyena. Macaroni and cheese. A small ham that we’d glazed with rhubarb compote. Bagels. Chips. And I admit to noshing on them; actually, in truth, I was grazing in a distinctly sort of bovine manner, along with my beloved neighbors. Everyone stood over a particular bowl or dish, scooped up a portion, and moved a little bit to the right. Rinse and repeat, and around and around we went, mindlessly. After a small piece of ham, I was full; the macaroni and cheese beckoned and I answered. After a small dollop of cheesy goodness, I was staggering–I actually felt drunk and a little bit lightheaded–but I also wanted more. My genes–those hateful little bastards–were shouting at me from the inside: go ahead, do it. Screw the quinoa. The decade has been pure crap. This will make you feel better. You can always take a nap.

So, the question for me now is, can I turn to comfort foods that will actually, heaven forbid, provide me with pleasure as well as healthy sustenance? Is there such a beast? Are they mutually exclusive? Do they have to be? There’s a lot to be said for portion size, for sure; but will more nutritious foods and things that are one step away from the earth rather than refined to hell and back provide me with the same sort of endorphin rush that, say, cheesy potatoes will? Maybe; I intend to find out.

The decade stank, and it ended with my learning that my heart is no longer a happy camper. But looking back, it had some big upside; maybe it’s all in how you look at it. I am finally, legally married in two states. The financial collapse pushed me, and many others, to realize that simple living is better living, and that consumerism isn’t necessarily a desirable virtue; and a bad generic version of a pill I take every day sent me to a cardiologist, who discovered an underlying disease that I otherwise would never have found, and she probably saved my life.

That alone is worth a walk in a snowstorm.

I love quinoa, but it can sometimes take on a distinctive and often annoying graininess that benefits from the addition of another texture. I choose kale, for its meaty, robust quality, and the fact that it holds up well everywhere from the steamer to the saute pan. I have also long been a fan of topping everything and anything with a perfectly prepared poached egg; there’s virtually nothing like it for texture and flavor, and if you’re lucky enough to have a neighbor who raises chickens, you’ll never eat anything less than a fresh egg (or at least an honestly organic one) ever again. I now limit myself to one, but if your cholesterol can stand it, have two; if there is any quinoa left over, mix it with an egg or two, form into patties, chill, and sear in a cast iron pan until brown. These can be chilled down and frozen for up to a month, making the whole ordeal deliciously frugal in the extreme.

This recipe can be altered any number of ways: use bulgur instead of quinoa; top the egg with a few shavings of sheep’s milk cheese, a sprinkling of crisply sauteed shallots, or a drizzle of Sriracha. It can also be served atop a slice of toasted, country-style bread that’s been rubbed with garlic and drizzled with olive oil. Add a small ladle of the pot liquor for good measure.

Serves 2

1 cup water, lightly salted

1 cup quinoa, rinsed well

1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil

1 small bunch red kale, cleaned and chopped

1/4 cup water

2 poached eggs

salt and pepper, to taste

extra virgin olive oil, for drizzling

1. In a medium saucepan, bring water to a boil, and add the quinoa. Cover, reduce heat to a simmer, and cook for 5 minutes. Remove from heat, and let stand, covered. And don’t peek.

2. In a deep, medium skillet set over medium heat, warm the oil until rippling. Add the onion and garlic, and saute until tender, taking care not to burn them. Add the kale and the water, combine well with the onion and garlic, and continue to cook, covered, until the kale is tender, about 8-10 minutes. Fluff the quinoa with a fork.

3. Fold the quinoa together with the kale, and serve warm in shallow bowls, topped with 1 poached egg each. Season to taste with salt and pepper and a drizzle of good quality extra virgin olive oil.