Nicole Centeno - Soup Cleanse Cookbook : Embrace a Better Body and a Healthier You With the Weekly Soup Plan

This book is intended as a reference volume only, not as a medical manual. The information given here is designed to help you make informed decisions about your health. It is not intended as a substitute for any treatment that may have been prescribed by your doctor. If you suspect that you have a medical problem, we urge you to seek competent medical help.

Mention of specific companies, organizations, or authorities in this book does not imply endorsement by the author or publisher, nor does mention of specific companies, organizations, or authorities imply that they endorse this book, its author, or the publisher.

Internet addresses and telephone numbers given in this book were accurate at the time it went to press.

2016 by Nicole Centeno

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any other information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.

Photographs by Tara Donne

Book design by Christina Gaugler

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file with the publisher.

ISBN 9781623367312 paperback
ISBN 978-1-62336-732-9 ebook

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ANOTHER CLEANSE?!
YOUR DOCTOR APPROVESFOR REAL!

LETS SPOON!
THE SOUP CLEANSE PROGRAM

Hobie, please stop barking, I pleaded. The buzzer of my Brooklyn apartment wailed, and my high-anxiety dog was not having it. My 2-month-old was wailing, too; he had just barfed two boobs worth of breast milk all over himself and me. Is something wrong with him? I wondered as I struggled to hold my crying baby, turn on the bath, and remove my milk-soaked pants. And then Hobie, likely because of his high anxiety, barfed, too. I walked, one yoga-pant-leg-on-one-leg-off, like a Walking Dead extra to the kitchen and grabbed a dish towel. Up until this very moment I stood firmly in the no-paper-towel camp. Waste paper when I could use a reusable towel? Nonsense! A more realistic version of my self seemed to be giggling from the sidelines: Ill show you nonsense. I made a mental note to keep paper towels in stock. I could feel the sweat prickling the back of my neck, the knots in my shoulders hot with stress and the weight of my newborn. The tears would be next. This is survival mode now. Get it together, I told myself.

Just one leg in front of the other and focus on bathing yourself and your baby. Its not so bad! Barf is not the end of the world! Drop a towel on the dog barf, handle baby barf first. Undress baby. Phone rings. Naked baby continues to protest. Its my kitchen production manager; I must answer the phone. Hello? Drape baby in a towel so he doesnt succumb to hypothermia. Im so sorry. Thats Grover crying. Whats up? I ask. What?! The soup is what temperature? Someone had left the door open to the refrigerated space where my soup was being stored before its delivery to my biggest-very-big-deal account. In the sweltering July heat, the soup had risen to 70 degrees. It was spoiled, for those of you less familiar with the rules of safe food storage. The tears came. The buzzer screamed again. Its my mom. Oh, its my mom who is buzzing. Thank God I asked her to come over. How could I have forgotten?

And that was the day over a thousand pounds of asparagus soup went bad. A short 24 hours earlier, over 2,000 pounds of locally sourced asparagus had arrived from a family-owned farm in Long Island (in hand-stamped wooden crates, no less). The crisp green spears had been trimmed by hand then blanched and dunked into an ice bath before meeting their soupy fate. My crew of two had made asparagus stock with the woody asparagus stems to ensure we pulled every last nutrient and flavor molecule out and into the soup. A crate of lemons had been zested and squeezed by hand. The pulpy citrus juice had been added a little at a time to balance the green flavor of the asparagus, the brininess of sea salt, and the richness of the olive oil. It was a vibrant life-giving green puree that was satisfying and refreshing all at once. And now this crew of two was opening every hand-labeled container and dumping it down the drain. If I was to save face with my big-deal customer, I needed to figure out a way to remake the entire batch that was due to them in a few hours.

Life grows full very quickly. In 4 short years, I have gone to culinary school, launched a business, had my first baby, managed an evolving business, had my second beautiful baby, and embraced the changing dynamic of a growing family. And yet, I have a growing list of things I want to do even more of: more reading, more running, more meditating, more concertgoing, more time with my friendsmore baths! I have noticed a similar phenomenon with my girlfriends and Splendid Spoon clients. We are saying yes more often. Yes to work. Yes to family. Yes to eating well. Yes to all the elements that excite our senses, feed our curiosity, and stimulate a deeper engagement with the world. Its possible, but we sometimes forget that simplicity is paramount.

Before I launched Splendid Spoon, I had a laughably naive perspective on what it meant to simplify: I drew Venn diagrams. I thought if I could find the place where all my yeses intersected, I would have the key! Like a linchpin for my perfectly organized, highly productive life, that center of the Venn would be my answer. It looked like the drawing below.

The sheer stupidity of this Venn diagram is embarrassing to the point of being hilarious now. I mean, starting a business was my answer? Take it from my milk- and soup-drenched yoga pants, my friends, if simplicity is the most important lesson of all, then you have to go one step at a time.

There were many heart swells and heartbreaks as I attempted to tackle and ultimately abandon this Venn diagram philosophy. The asparagus soup saga revealed that I hadnt found my linchpin; I had burnt a whole through the center of my neat little Venn diagram. My eyelashes werent just singed; my hair was on fire. We all do it. We have a tendency to get excited about projects and relationships and to work hard on those things, often prioritizing them over our own needs. It was like I had gotten so excited about my new roles as mom and CEO that I had left a critical part of me behind: the part of me that stands up for what I need. Its the part of me that believes yoga and meditation are just as important as the weekly team meeting. Its the part of me that says, Slow down, youll make better decisions if you get a full nights rest. I wanted to be a kick-ass mom and a successful business leader, but I had forgotten that being great for other people meant being great to Nicole first.