Making Connections and Low-Carb Chicken Pad Thai with Cabbage Noodles

I moved yesterday. It had been 15 years. I turns out my belongings require a lot more boxes now. Twenty years ago, my whole life fit into two boxes (plus a rolling desk chair). Now, my collection of honeys, date molasses, and spices alone fill two boxes. Combined, all my belongings scantily filled a truck that I drove 2.5 hours west to a new home that doesn’t yet feel like a home.

It almost felt like a home yesterday when people I’d only ever met online came to help me unpack my clothes, books, and bathroom supplies. They showed up when my longer standing friends in this new place didn’t. Two other friends gave their whole day to packing the truck (along to 10 other great Montreal friends), then drove with me, then unpacked, then ate my dinner of lentils and rice and garden beans (and some very expensive Champagne from private importer Les Vins Dame-Jeanne) before driving another two hours back to Montreal.

But today was the first time the fear of loneliness set in. Yesterday I had a goal: get to Gatineau in one piece and unpack, then celebrate. Check. Today, I had the buzz of an air circulator in my new building, a few rooms full of boxes, and no fixed plans other than paperwork and prep before next Wednesday. Free (or unbooked) time is my downfall. Isn’t there an expression about idle hands being the devil’s playground? Maybe that’s only for go-getters. Or people who aren’t used to anxiety over losing connections and people they care about. Or those intimidated by the 15-year long task that was making new connections. I suppose I’m both.

It does calm me to think back to when I arrived in Montreal, though. I contacted a random person through a climbing list of people looking for partners. I met a man named Guirec who smoked and talked French too fast for me, but he also introduced me to another climber who repaired my bathroom ceiling last week after a last-minute leak from above before my renters arrived, who helped me open my first rock climbing routes outside, who invited me to my first big trad climbing destinations, who picked me up from my doctor’s office after a procedure that knocked me unconscious and barely able to stand, who took me to the emergency room after a bad fall. One of my best friends.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll meet a new best friend here.

It took me 15 years to find a person I could see myself spending a lot of time with in Montreal, and whose life circumstances made it possible for them to spend a lot of time with me, and then a week later I left. I’m not ready to wait another 15.

But I know once classes start next week I won’t have time to think about the idea of three Greek fates weaving my destiny. I won’t miss as much the climbing weekends my Montreal friends are on without me when I’m learning about freedom of religion and equality and what that means for Quebecers teaching in English-Language Cégeps.

The trick is to keep busy. But I think the more strength-requiring option, and the more necessary one, is to feel all this sadness, and then think of where I was two years ago, without a career path, wondering if Montreal could ever give me what I wanted if it hadn’t in more than 10 years, and know I didn’t leave on a whim. I made an educated choice. I invested in a future, and it’s time to make that future happen and see where it leads. And if it leads back to Montreal, so be it. But for now, it’s time to be away.

Chicken Pad Thai with Cabbage

What does this have to do with chicken pad Thai? If you’ve stuck with this post so far, you might not be surprised to know that I’m trying to convince myself that everything will be fine. I was fine until yesterday, and I’ll be fine in a few weeks, or a month, or a year. That’s just how this kind of grief works. But right now, at this very moment, it hurts, and it feels endless.

That’s when I need comfort. Rather than alcohol or desserts or any other kind of “treat,” I like to make warm, soft, savoury foods. Cabbage makes for slightly sweet and al dente noodles, at a lower price. It’s harder to overcook than rice noodles (I had a recent failure for a potluck, but nobody cared except two, me being one of the most judgmental of course, but also secretly loving the mushy, coagulated strands). And it’s lower carb. I usually combine it with noodles for heft and for softness, but you could just use 100% cabbage instead (in which case it could be kept keto and even lower-carb). Zucchini noodles also work (grate and then salt them, then drain them for texture), but they’re less crunchy and fibrous and sweet.

So make your favourite pad thai recipe (I recommend David Thompson‘s, or my own adaption) and swap in some chopped cabbage. Just hack up slices of the vegetable to your preferred thickness and then cook them longer to soften, with the lid on tight so it steams and doesn’t burn. You can roast the chicken separately like I did for texture, or just slice it up and add it. You’ll be devouring those “noodles” in no time.

Does comfort eating work? I don’t think so, really, but define work. If “work” means makes you briefly feel satisfied and just a little happier, then any good meal can “work.” And define comfort. To some that might mean McDonalds or other fast-food, but to be truly comforting, there has to be a home-made quality to me. Like chicken soup, slow-cooked chili, pasta sauce, risotto. And chicken pad thai. This one just happens to be lightened up, sweeter, more tender, and customized.

When life feels a little out of your control, you always have culinary options. For me, every little bit helps.