A Brighter Future...

Cooking with Good Judgment and Understanding

The real, whole foods that fill our kitchen — and why I’ve come to see nourishing my family as some of the most meaningful work I know.

In her book Nourishing Traditions, Sally Fallon paints a picture that has stayed with me for years. She describes the quiet power of a woman who feeds her family with wisdom and real food: how she gets to watch her children grow up strong and capable, and her husband stay healthy and thrive in his work. And how, by tending everyone else’s health, she safeguards her own — so that later, with her children raised, she’s free to pour her energy into meaningful work and service that brings a little more peace and happiness to the world.

I love that vision. It reframes the daily, ordinary work of the kitchen — the chopping and soaking and stirring — as something quietly sacred. When I cook with, as Sally puts it, “good judgment and understanding,” I’m not just making dinner. I’m investing in the health, the minds, and even the dispositions of the people I love most. It’s an honor I don’t take lightly, and honestly, it’s become one of my greatest joys.

So let me open my cupboards and show you what that looks like — the real, whole foods that fill our kitchen and our table.

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What fills our kitchen

Lots and lots of vegetables. These are the foundation of everything — the more color and variety on the plate, the better. If I’m ever unsure what to make, “more vegetables” is never the wrong answer.

Living, cultured foods. Sprouts, kimchi, sauerkraut, and gingered carrots. These fermented and sprouted foods are little powerhouses — traditional cultures around the world prized them, and I love how they wake up a meal and support happy digestion. (My gingered carrots go on everything.)

Seeds, nuts, and legumes. Sunflower and pumpkin seeds, almonds and walnuts, lentils and beans. Soaked or sprouted, they’re humble, affordable, protein-rich building blocks — and they stretch a grocery budget a beautifully long way.

Cultured dairy. Raw milk, cheese, yogurt, butter, and kefir. Cultured and traditionally made dairy has been part of nourishing tables for generations, and it’s a staple in ours.

A gentle, honest word on raw dairy: this is a personal choice we make carefully, from a source we know and trust. Raw (unpasteurized) milk isn’t legal to sell everywhere, and it isn’t the right choice for everyone — especially expecting mamas, little ones, and anyone with a fragile immune system. If it’s new to you, please look closely at your source and talk it over with your own care provider. Good pasteurized, cultured dairy is a wonderful option too.

Sea vegetables and noodles. Seaweed sheets (my kids snack on them cut into little squares!) and simple noodles. The sea vegetables are mineral-rich and add a savory depth you can’t get anywhere else.

Whole grains — naturally gluten-free ones. Quinoa, millet, amaranth, buckwheat, rice, and corn. This is a happy list for my fellow celiacs: every one of these is naturally gluten-free, and together they open up a whole world of hearty, satisfying meals without a speck of wheat. In the spirit of the Word of Wisdom, grains truly are the staff of life around here.

Delicious fruit — fresh, frozen, or dried. Nature’s own dessert. Fresh and in-season when we can get it, frozen for smoothies and the winter months, and dried for lunchboxes and snacking.

Natural sweeteners — used sparingly. A little pure maple syrup, a drizzle of raw honey. Real sweeteners in small amounts are one of life’s pleasures; the key word is sparingly.

Quality meat — also sparingly. Organic chicken, fish, and pasture-fed beef, enjoyed in modest amounts and with real gratitude. Like the Word of Wisdom teaches, we eat meat sparingly — and when we do, we want it raised the way God intended, on pasture and without added hormones.

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None of this is complicated, and it certainly isn’t fancy. It’s just real food, close to the way it grows, prepared with a little care and a lot of love. When I look at my table — the colors, the ferments bubbling on the counter, the jars of grains and seeds — I feel a deep contentment. This is how I get to love my family three times a day.

And that, to me, is the whole point of cooking with good judgment and understanding: not perfection, but intention. Feeding the people in your care, as well as you’re able, with what God so generously provides. 

It’s ordinary, faithful work — and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

With much love,

Steffanie