The tradition of weekly Wednesday night dinners in Athens evolved from my family. It all started in Calvary, Georgia. For as long as I can remember,  Family Night has been a weekly tradition of putting all work aside, relaxing, cooking amazing food, and gathering family together around the table.

My older cousins Bradley Jones, Chaz, and Emily Oliver originally got Family Night started in Athens when they first came to the University of Georgia. They began hosting weekly dinners and inviting their closest friends.

Eventually, the group grew to include boyfriends, girlfriends, roommates, neighbors, and friends of friends. It was also a great way of meeting new people because everyone was so welcoming. When I came up to Athens to attend UGA, I also joined and gained a whole new group of lifelong friends.

Although most of us weren’t related, we still considered ourselves a family. Food can do that to people.

Eventually, it became a much larger group of friends that came from the University of Georgia, North Georgia College, Athens Technical College, and even graduates that were still living around the Athens area.

Most of us have known each other for years, but meeting new people wasn’t uncommon and they usually returned and were welcomed back with open arms. On average, we had about 15-20 members attending Family Night every week.

We would take turns hosting and cooking dinners. It wasn’t a pizza take out kind of thing. We’re talking about home-cooked meals y’all. It was definitely a challenge cooking for such a large group of people, but time spent with “family” was well worth it and so was the food!

When these sorts of events happened, we went all out. All the family members prepared and brought their best home cooked meal for the feast. We even got really competitive on who could cook the best meals and celebrated special occasions such as Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Around Christmas, we would dress up in our tackiest attire and take a picture to send to our own families to put on the refrigerator.

Family night was a great way to drop everything and come together to keep in touch with friends and family when times got busy. It was the one-day of the week where we could just relax and catch up. If we didn’t have this once a week, I probably wouldn’t have even seen my family or closest friends as much as I did and that’s something I truly treasure.

If someone couldn’t attend, we made sure they were sent a take-home plate. Because let’s face it, everyone has to eat during a stressful test or project and there’s no better meal than a home-cooked one prepared with love from their “family.”

“Is it okay if I bring my dog?” The answer was always yes! After all, dogs are family too. They were brought over to enjoy company from the humans as well as other furry friends. Our pets weren’t left out of the scrumptious meals either. They were also served part of our feast or as my granddad, Big Daddy, used to say, “the crumbs under the table.”

Because most of us were college kids, we typically didn’t eat the best food. Eating out was our go-to because it was a quick and easy fix.

Family night was a way to have a good home-cooked meal at least once a week and reunite with our friends. It is one of my best college memories.

Now that I’ve graduated, I plan to continue to carry on this tradition in Atlanta and wherever life takes me. Cooking is more than just about eating: it is something that ties people together.

It doesn’t get much better than gathering with friends and family, meeting new people, cooking great meals, making new memories, and passing on our beloved family tradition! Cheers!

“Be the Change” – I had heard this quote when I was younger, but never did it resonate with me quite like it does now. It seems that Ghandi might have known a thing or two.

Growing up I was like any other kid when it came to eating. I may have been a bit picky when it came to items on my plate touching, but other than that, I was just the standard teeny-bopper.

Food was food.

It’s what my mom and dad served me. It’s what gave me energy to play. It’s what all my friends were eating. It was just part of life.

As I grew older, and went away to college, I began to take a greater interest in exactly what I was eating — for aesthetic purposes. I realized that since I was no longer on my family’s meal plan and no longer active with cheerleading, I needed to step it up and put forth my best foot to stay fit. There was no Freshman 15 being had by this chick. I knew that for sure.

I began to listen to what exactly society deemed healthy. This was a process that came in many stages. I call it my health evolution.

This evolution’s first stop was my freshman year of college, a time of heavily processed energy bars, sugar-doused granola, frozen preservative-loaded, “healthy” meals, lots of refined carbs and highly saturated fatty animal products.

I then moved onto the stage of first-kitchen-cooking-excitement.

During my sophomore year of college, I lived in my very first apartment equipped with a full kitchen, where I cooked the heck out of it. I was experimenting with dishes, finding out what I could cook, but mostly trying my best to imitate the delicious meals my mom had made for me at home.

This was all very exciting for me and when I realized how simple and economical it was to cook for yourself. At this point, the term “clean eating” was bounced around in my head as I started following various healthy living blogs, but I didn’t truly understand this concept until much later.

Sophomore year consisted of a great deal of frozen chicken and fish that I would store up and thaw when needed. Since I no longer had my mom or dad to do the “gross” part of cooking, I realized how disturbed I was to work with these dead animal carcasses, touching their slimy, pale flesh, carving into their meek bones, muscles and tendons.

I would usually try to zone out and continue to reassure myself that the after effect would be worth my disgust. This feeling seems to be common with so many people–something I would later note.

Sophomore year was a turning point for my relationship with my body.

My reasons for eating well and exercising transformed from an aesthetic purpose to overall well-being inside and out. At this point in time, my diet consisted of heavy amounts of salmon, chicken, shrimp, cheese, eggs, Greek yogurt, super grains, nuts, and vegetables. I was living my life as healthy as I knew how.

In May 2013, I decided to start my own healthy living blog, entitled CHOWIDO. I had followed so many different blogs of the same sort for quite a while and figured it was my turn to give it a shot. From there on, I was so invested in presenting the best food, the best workouts, and the best lifestyle to my readers, I was head-deep in my own research.

I had come across this diet called “veganism” a few times, but brushed it off as extreme and unnecessary. How could a diet with no meat, cheese or eggs be healthy? LOL yeah right, let me just keep doing my thang.

It wasn’t until I met another blogger from Canada that my opinion was changed. She was just like me, roughly my age, a fitness fanatic, health-foodie chef that had made this vegan transformation on her journey to find her best self. She had me convinced that this lifestyle yielded top-notch health benefits. Still, I couldn’t imagine a life without chicken and fish, let alone cheese and eggs.

I finally decided to test the waters.

In effort to have an edgy blog topic, I decided to try this crazy diet out for myself. I did a trial “vegan week” starting July 5, 2013. During this time, I not only researched foods to buy and meals to make, but watched two life-changing documentaries.

“Forks Over Knives” and “Vegucated” had me question all the information I had grown to know true, the very information I found sacred. Was it really so that meat, dairy and eggs were unhealthy for you?

From discovering that the consumption of animal proteins and fats are directly linked to western world diseases like cancer, type 2 diabetes, heart disease, obesity, osteoporosis, rheumatoid arthritis and realizing the repulsive, violent reality of factory farming today, and the detriment animal agriculture has on our environment, I knew I had to do something.

It’s crazy to think that this all started with my desire to dive into health and wellness research to become the best me I could be, but slowly transitioned into scattered ethical and environmental contemplation of my daily actions. Everything I had known to be kosher was now far from it.

I began to question…

• Why is it that because us humans are more powerful than other species of this planet, we feel that we can exploit them as material products for our own personal gain?
• Since when is it cool to steal bodies, babies, skin or shelter that is not our own?
• Why is society so convinced that consuming dairy and meat is a means of survival when we can receive the same nutrients in a superior form from plants?
• Why is the plant-based lifestyle not catching on like wildfire with all the information out there about it?

I was puzzled now to define what it meant to carry out a healthy diet and by the meat and dairy industry that I had never thought twice about buying into.

Both the disease epidemic and animal welfare angles hit me hard.

I had seen other documentaries related to the food industry and knew it wasn’t pretty, but this was something else. And I could do something about it.

Meanwhile, I was genuinely enjoying the vegan foods I had been preparing. These foods were delicious and there was so much variety to choose from. I wasn’t hungry and I still had plenty of energy, if not more, to complete my workouts.

I got hit hard with criticism though, as I should have expected.

• “You are going to look emaciated!”
• “You won’t get your protein and calcium!”
• “You won’t have enough energy to workout!”
• “But it’s natural to eat animals…”
• “What if you kill your own animal to eat?”
• “What if it’s cage-free/humanely slaughtered?”

Nobody likes to be the odd man out, being criticized for the lifestyle they live. It definitely made me think about everything twice.

I decided to continue on until the end of the summer, as I imagined it would be too difficult upon my return back to college. When the end of summer arrived, the lifestyle had grown on me and I had invested my time into even more research. I wanted to push forward.

Of course when I got back to school, I got a whole other load of people who thought I was crazy, just as I would have if my life had been rewound a few months.

As the school months went on, it was evident that the most difficult part of being vegan was social scrutiny by people who had not done their research. It felt like I was spending all my time and energy convincing people that what I was doing was acceptable, that what I was doing should be okay in the eye’s of society, when in fact, it should be applauded.

There came a turning point about six months into my vegan transition that I realized I no longer needed to defend myself. I would merely give the facts to those who questioned and move on.

I began to recognize all of the incredible benefits I was experiencing.

I felt vibrant! I felt so mentally clear, calm and collected in my daily interactions. I felt so physically lean and was more energized than ever. I had never felt better. And the best part? I could eat as much as I want on this lifestyle of abundance! I made sure to document all of this on my blog.

I realized that the only way to effectively convince people of the positivity in this powerful shift in lifestyle was to lead by example — to be the change.

I, alone, was making a difference, in my own life, the lives of so many animals, and the very Earth we stand on. I felt absolutely empowered knowing the impact I was making. It was now time for people to realize this.

From then on, it was history. I have been vegan now for nearly two years and plan on continuing to do so for the rest of my life. I say with absolute confidence that going vegan was the single greatest decision I have ever made.

Since the beginning of my vegan journey, I have grown an unbelievable amount.

Aside from transforming into a healthier, more vibrant human being, I have grown into a more conscious, more compassionate, more worldly individual. It’s crazy how differently I see the world now than I did just a couple years ago.

Never would I have thought about the process my food endured from farm to plate. Never would I have thought about all the lives I am affecting by choosing which foods to consume. Never would I have thought about the environmental impact of my menu choice.

In effort to do my part, I founded The Veg Club of Virginia Tech in August 2014 to gather vegans, vegetarians and those who are simply interested in the lifestyle to get together to create positive change on campus and in the Blacksburg community. I also served this past year as a student advisory committee member of Virginia Tech Dining Services representing the vegan voice on campus.

I am a changed person. Not only do I live to be my best self, but live so that others may see a brighter tomorrow.

We have much more power and influence on the world than we think.

It’s time we acknowledge that and move forward with change.

Through my journey, I have learned a few important things…

• Question everything. Do not be defined by the status quo. Do not let your life be determined by societal norms and expectations. Do your own research and formulate your own conclusions.
• You count. Never discredit yourself because you are one human being. You can make all the difference in the world. Your dollar is your vote. You have the power to make a vast influence on society.
• Dare to be different. People will always be judged for doing different than their neighbor. There is no right and wrong, just opinions on such. Different is good. Different is what keeps life interesting.

“Heres to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They are not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.” – Steve Jobs

To educate yourself further on this amazing plant-based lifestyle, I highly recommended watching Forks Over Knives, Vegucated, Food, Inc., Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead, Food Matters, Earthlings, and Cowspiracy.

Be the Change. The most effective way to lead others is by example. Exemplify the type of change you want to see and you shall watch it happen. Since July 5, 2013, my life has been altered forever. It has led me to discover where my true calling lies. I aspire to spend the rest of my life changing the world, one plant-based diet at a time.

You’ve finally made it. You’re wearing the cap and gown, anxiously awaiting the moment you’re ushered to turn your tassel, signifying the declaration of that you’re a college graduate. You’ve dedicated four hard years to furthering your education and are now sitting in the stadium of one of the top universities in the country with your family there to cheer you on.  This is the biggest moment of your life and should be treasured.

Except you’re fixated on cake. Cake, really? Yes, cake. That beautiful vegan cake your father went to great lengths to procure solely for you, to make you happy on your graduation day. Rather than let this thought fill you with joy and gratitude, you’re filled with fear knowing you’ll have to eat it. You don’t know the calories. You don’t know the ingredients. You don’t know how much exercise is required to burn it off, so you’ve already made arrangements to be in the earliest spin class the next day to prevent any ounce of fat from accumulating on your body. All this unnecessary anxiety caused from one piece of cake on a day that’s meant to be celebrated.

This is the detrimental thought process that gradually began taking hold of my mind over the past year. Because I had no idea what post-graduation life would entail, I clung tight to one thing I knew I had control: my weight. It began innocently enough with eating clean, counting calories, and developing a regular workout routine. I was graced with labels such as “health freak” or “health nut” and took immense pride in them. Friends and strangers alike kept telling me how great I looked and were enthralled by how tiny I was.  But it never seemed to be enough in my mind. I had to eat cleaner, slash more calories, and workout even harder. If there was a way to lose weight, it was pertinent that I incorporate it into my lifestyle.

It didn’t take long for me to begin viewing food as an enemy.

In some cases, this even included healthy foods like sweet potatoes and bananas because they were too high in carbs. I wouldn’t allow myself to make sandwiches using more than one piece of bread, mind you, the healthiest possible bread I could find. More than one piece of fruit a day would allow for too much sugar in my diet. I wouldn’t dream of eating any products with more than five grams of sugar. Suggested serving sizes were too large for me, so I ate less.  Cooking, one of my favorite things to do, was tossed to the side because I knew I would have to calculate the calories in each recipe I wanted to try. Going to restaurants was completely out of the question. I denied requests from friends to spend time together because there was the fear that food may be involved somehow. I hated for people to see me eat, fearful they might think I was eating too much.

I was consuming at least 1,000 calories fewer than what my body required to function on a daily basis. Factor in the workouts I was doing, sometimes twice a day, and you can imagine my level of exhaustion. I look back and cringe at the thought of how tired I was, even after a full night’s sleep. I had enough energy to get me through that early morning workout but not much else. I would go about the rest of my day completely depleted of energy. I’d been active my entire life and was now getting winded from walking up a flight of stairs.

Fast forward a few months to the end of August. I was offered a job and moved back home to save money while I worked. Everything was slowly falling into place and a regular routine was in the process of being established. That meant I could relinquish the obsessive control over my weight, right? Not exactly. It took at least a month after starting my new job before I realized the toll I had caused my body.

I was getting ready for work and looked in the mirror, as I do every morning. But something sent panic through me: the sight of my scalp. Hannah, the girl with notoriously thick hair, who was born with a full head of hair, now had thinning hair. I wouldn’t blame you for thinking this sounds completely superficial of me. But it’s a real wake-up call when something you’ve been praised for endlessly is no longer applicable, especially when you can’t blame anyone but yourself. It was this realization that caused me to truly take a hard look at myself. In addition to the thin hair, I looked frail, exhausted, and downright miserable. And I felt miserable. I was constantly freezing, despite wearing sweaters in the middle of the summer. I was irritable because I was constantly hungry (just imagine being “hangry” all the time). I was so incredibly uncomfortable in the little skin I had left.

I was under the impression losing weight was supposed to solve all your problems. For me, it created more than I could ever imagine.

For the past month, I’ve been working with a dietitian. As sad as it sounds, I’ve had to teach myself how to eat. I’m learning how to eat when I’m hungry, which is something that shouldn’t even require a second thought. I’m learning that food is energy. I couldn’t recognize this simple concept and I hate how long it took for me in order to do so. Food is essential to our well-being and I recognize how absolutely ridiculous it was for me to fear it. The first day I increased my caloric intake, the benefits were instantaneous, giving me more energy than I’d felt in a year. After months of feeling hungry, even just minutes after eating, I finally felt full and satisfied. I can’t emphasize enough how great a feeling that is and I’m ashamed how long I went denying myself of it.

I wish I could say I’ve completely stopped counting calories, but I haven’t. I can’t yet go out to eat without having an intense wave of anxiety strike me and instantly wrack my brain for excuses. I’m still not at my ideal weight. Recovering from an eating disorder is a gradual process and I know these issues will resolve in due time.

So far, my weight has increased by 10 pounds. I am eating the proper amount of calories my body requires. I am still exercising every day, but my mindset towards it has changed: Not every workout has to be more intense than the last. I enjoy exercise now that I have the energy to go about my day afterwards. It’s not a punishment for the foods I consume.

Am I happy with my body? If I’m being honest, every day is a struggle to shift my mindset to one of self-love and appreciation for this body.

From a young age, we are taught to never be satisfied or happy with the bodies we’re given. There is always some improvement we need to make in order to love ourselves, rather than accepting our bodies for what they are. Gaining ten pounds over the course of a month brings on a lot of days where my body image is not the least bit positive, but I’m finding these days are becoming less frequent. I’m learning how to live without my life revolving around food. Because that’s not living. What does my weight have to do with my ability to perform my job well and pursue my passion? Does my weight take away from the fact that I graduated from one of the best universities in the country? Is the love from my family and friends contingent on a number on the scale? No, no, and definitely not.

This fixation on weight is so irrelevant when looking at the big picture of how much I’ve accomplished, how lucky I am to have family and friends to support me, and the dreams I still have to chase.

My still-wet braid dripped water down my back, providing a cool relief from the sun rays dancing over my skin as I trudged up the swim trail from the lake.

My ankles were now covered in a thin coat of dirt that had been kicked up by the boys running ahead of me, excited to be first in line for the weekly “Burrito Bar.” As my campers gathered around our table at the coveted location on the Lakeside Porch, I filled a glass to the brim with iced tea before going out to sit with my little ones under the shade of the Manzanita trees.

Beaming faces, gap-toothed smiles, and wide eyes offered the backdrop to our meals as my campers excitedly bragged about their courageous accomplishments on the ropes course between bites of lunch.

“Can I please go to the bathroom?”

The innocence of childhood was shattered as I stared back at Andrea, my sixteen year old “Camper in Leadership Training”. I glanced down at her empty plate–a blank slate apart from a few half-eaten carrot sticks and an untouched pile of lettuce–then back at her face, showing an expression just as empty.

Andrea’s guilt was palpable: a criminal stealing calories which she did not feel she deserved, she desperately needed to dispose of any evidence of a meal. Her long, willowy arms and hollow cheeks brought me back to my own days of guilt, my own days of calorie counting and meal skipping, the days of weighing and watching, exposed ribs and hidden secrets.

. . .

It was senior year of high school, and man, I was on top of the world. I had a wonderful group of friends, a boyfriend who doubled as the school’s MVP on the water polo team, a place in the Advanced Dance class at my studio, and involvement in an array of clubs across campus.

It would have shocked anyone to find that the girl whose life was so laced with love and laughter spent her nights hungry and alone in bed, thinking up plans on how to escape meals the next day.

“Dad, I’m running late- I’ll just grab a granola bar from the vending machines.”

“It’s alright Mom, I’ll buy lunch today, don’t bother making one.”

“Thanks Matt, but I had a big breakfast. I’m not really hungry for lunch.”

“No mom, don’t worry about me for dinner, I’m eating at Sophie’s.”

“No Sophie, it’s alright, I’m going to eat dinner at home.”

The skill of deception was one that I had mastered.

I was living a double life: the girl who smiled and hugged friends around school, and the girl who frequently spent hours staring in the mirror, pinching her waist, and bringing herself to tears at the sight of her own body.

Occasionally, my public and private lives would cross paths– I would find myself wondering why my thighs touched in my desk at school or contemplating how much higher I could leap in ballet if I didn’t have all of the “extra” weight pulling me back to the ground. An almost catatonic state would wash over me, as if the world went silent to accommodate for the numbers screaming louder and louder in my head.

7 apps on my phone dedicated to calorie counting.

6 websites to calculate my BMI, only finding satisfaction when deemed “underweight”.

5 times a day on the scale to make sure the numbers were dropping.

2 secret hours at the gym after school.

0 calories consumed without being burned off.

My life had become a numbers game- constant counting, constant weighing, endless obsession.

Look at the fork. Pick it up. Stab at a piece of broccoli. Put it down. Drink water instead. Carry on conversation with mom. Look back at the fork. Pick it up. Put it down. You don’t need this. Look at your thighs. Mom is looking at your plate. She can’t know. Pick up the fork. Take a scoop of rice. Open your mouth. Chew. God, this tastes good. God, you are getting fat. Put down the fork. Repeat.

I was lucky, in a strange way, to see the negative effects my choices had on my body. I was tired all of the time; I was brittle and fragile and always bruised up; I got skinnier and skinnier, but it was never enough.

Ironically, the closer I got to what I was convinced would bring happiness, the worse I seemed to feel.

It was as if the pounds I shed from my figure returned twice as heavy to the air above me. When the weight of the world is heavier than the weight of your body, it becomes hard to distinguish between the two. Often I would mistake one burden for the other and find myself dragging around my weightless limbs like anchors.

It was a Tuesday. The lunch bell rang and students poured out of classrooms into the quad the way water fills a reservoir when the flood gates are finally let open.

Convinced I was shielded by the waves of my peers, I reached into my gray canvas backpack and fumbled around for the crinkled brown paper bag my mom was adamant about packing that morning. I kept my well-wrapped kryptonite at arms-length as I scanned the schoolyard for the nearest trash can, determined to catch not even a breath of the homemade brownies that were under-cooked, just to my liking.

I released the sweet treats into the dismal plastic bag, feeling momentarily guilty that my mom’s always-perfectly-symmetrical sandwiches and apple slices were now the equivalent of mangled pizza crusts and half-finished Gatorades. As I turned away from my abandoned calories, the pride of another skipped meal was short-lived.

I remember it as a movie scene–you know the kind–where everything is moving in a blur but there’s one focal point which remains clear. That focal point was my boyfriend. The stares exchanged between his eyes and mine made up a conversation more insightful than any words could do justice.

All it took was one look at his face when he saw what I had done.

This was the look that told me his suspicions were confirmed. It was the look that told me I had been caught. It was the look that catalyzed my desire to be well again.

He moved closer, enveloping me in his familiar, warm scent of lingering chlorine poorly masked by Old Spice and his mom’s dryer sheets. As if his arms were the glue holding the very pieces of my soul together, I immediately came undone when he stepped away. A marionette controlled by self-hatred whose strings had finally been cut, I crumpled to the pavement feeling as small as I had always hoped I would look.

. . .

The crisp mountain air in my lungs only made my thoughts seem more muddled by contrast as I stared back at Andrea. I knew what I needed to say. I knew what she wanted to hear. I wanted to force her to believe that she was beautiful.

I wanted to let her know that she was enough. I wanted to scream that a number on a scale cannot measure your intelligence or your self-worth. I wanted to convince her that it is so much prettier to have a full heart and big dreams than an empty stomach and thin thighs. I wanted to fix her.

I wanted to love her in all of the ways that I knew she did not love herself. I knew what words I should have said, but when I opened my mouth the only syllable I could utter was a raspy “Sure”.

After all, who was I to tell her to avoid the allure of the fire while I was still nursing my own burns?

Andrea made her way back to the table with the bloodshot, watery, post-purging eyes and sniffling nose that I had grown to know too well. I forced myself to look away from my adolescent reflection sitting across from me and added another heaping spoonful of sugar to my tea–a desperate attempt to sweeten the bitter taste left in my mouth.

I filled my cheeks with the sickeningly sugary liquid and forced a swallow, hoping that if I took a gulp big enough, my secrets would be washed down with it, once again burying the words that begged to escape my lips.

Unlike many of the other WishDish articles, I do not have an extraordinarily amazing message or inspirational story. I’m just a simple guy who likes to drink beer on the weekends and eat good food.

So I come to you today as a poor college student with an omelette prep guide. Eggs! Eggs simply put, are a wonder-food (at least for me). Eggs are incredibly nutritious! Eggs are moderately low in fat and practically devoid of fat when eaten as whites only without the yolk.

A single egg is moderately high in Vitamin-D and Vitamin-B along with over 6 grams of protein. An egg is an amazing post-workout meal to help expedite the recovery of muscles, and if you’re cutting and want to reduce carbs, eggs are a go-to meal.

This is all considering not to mention, they’re relatively inexpensive along with being fast and easy to cook.

An easy way to remove the yolk from a cracked egg is to take an empty water bottle, squeeze it, and vacuum up the yolk.

Omelette

It’s like a taco made of eggs. The omelette is the poster child of what to do with eggs. You can pack it with your favorite ingredients be it vegan or a hearty filling of meat.

I prefer my omelette with sun-dried tomatoes (but these are expensive so I usually skip out on these, but they add a dimension of flavor), mushrooms, spinach, and finely chopped honey-glazed ham. My family has always been a ham family. We go ham about every single holiday be it Christmas, Thanksgiving, birthdays, father’s day, and more. That’s right, you won’t find turkey in my household on Thanksgiving day.

That aside however, you can simply fill your omelette to your heart’s desire.

Many novice omeletteers will simply douse their ingredients with olive oil and heat before addition to their omelette, and I’m telling you there’s so much more you can do. Heat the pan to medium high and olive oil to a light coverage of the pan, a few holes in coverage is fine. Add the bulkiest ingredients first (mushrooms, ham, etc). And let that cook for about a minute before adding the smaller ingredients. Now, to take this filling to flavortown (thank you Guy Fieri), add a small cut of butter around the amount you would put on two pieces of bread at a restaurant. Keeping in the idea of healthy eating, this is a decently minimal amount of extraordinary leaps in flavor.

I enjoy adding fresh parley or thyme along with just a dash of lemon juice. Finish with a pinch of salt (or seasoning salt if you like that) and pepper. Once the ingredients have reached a softer consistency, they’re good to take off the heat and onto a plate for the time being. For the actual preparation of the omelette, wipe your pan with a paper towel and add another cover of olive oil. Heat to medium while you crack open three to four eggs into a bowl. Beat them until there’s a very cohesive consistency.

Don’t over-beat them. Add to the hot pan. Cover the whole bottom of the pan and let the eggs cook.

To keep the bottom from burning and over cooking, create small gaps in the omelette by breaking it apart with the spatula and allowing it to refill with egg. Once the holes begin to no longer fill, remove from heat immediately as the residual heat will cook the eggs. This is the perfect time to add cheese if you want (I enjoy smoked gouda, but that’s also expensive).

Now add the ingredients onto only half the egg, fold over, and plate. Congratulations, you have an omelette. To add extra flare, make a whites only egg omelette, then add the yolks in right on top of the ingredients before folding to create a gooey and creamy omelette. Afterwards, sprinkle on a light pinch of cayenne pepper for a kick along with fresh chives to make it look fancy.

I want to change the world. It is not a dream or vision but a reality that I am able to change the world for the better. I figured this out while visiting New York, New York. For my 16th birthday present, my parents took me and my best friend sightseeing for the weekend.

The night before we left to go home, we visited Ray’s Pizza, which had been personally recommended to me. This was, in fact, one of the primary reasons I wanted to visit, for the fabled New York style pizza.

The pizza was delicious, but I made my discovery while walking back to our hotel.

We had gotten three whole pizzas all topped with unique toppings for the four of us to split, and I was carrying the box with the few slices leftover. I was admittedly walking slower than normal because of the large amount of hot cheesy pizza, and so maybe that was what caused me to notice the homeless man half-asleep on the edge of the sidewalk.

Most people in New York City are so busy they don’t notice, or pretend not to notice, the large amount of unfortunate people without homes. I was planning on eating the pizza  I held in my hands for breakfast the next morning.

But seeing someone without anything while I had so much just did not seem right to me.

I was not compelled by guilt nor did I feel any responsibility for his condition, instead I acted on what was an obvious wrong that I could make right. He was hungry. I had food. Our conversation lasted no more than thirty seconds; the look of surprise and gratitude in his eyes stays with me to this day. On that day, I discovered just how easy it is to change a life.

The way the pizza had an effect on the man whom I had not met uncovered a dramatic revelation: I can change lives and by changing lives, I can change the world.

The price of the pizza was not the important part; however, the gesture of giving what I did not need was where I found the breakthrough. Because of my interaction in New York, I have found new discoveries that I want to dive into. I want to know why it is right for me to get an iPhone 6 for Christmas, while other people my age do not have a dinner on Christmas. I want to know why it is acceptable for me to have luxuries yet some do not have necessities.

I am not tackling world hunger or extreme poverty by giving away some pizza, but I do believe I can personally change the world for the better. I want to learn how I can drastically improve the lives of those who I interact with. It now seems like common sense when I tell people that I want to help people. Who doesn’t?

It is logical to dedicate your life to helping people, because the feeling you get from it cannot be expressed in words.

That is something that is best discovered on your own. Today, I give back by participating in Virginia Tech Relay For Life – which has raised over $5 million for cancer research and patient services. Join me today to make a difference in the lives of millions.

(Written by Philabundance)

We are proud to partner with Wellspring Living and The Make It Zero campaign in the fight against child-sex trafficking. We would also like to thank MELT for spearheading this effort. From Atlanta to Africa, poverty is a reality for too many people. We are also proud to work with Fresh For All and Philabundance in helping to spread awareness that hunger is still a problem in our world today, but it does not have to be. Check out their website to see how you can help stop hunger, in Pennsylvania and around the world. 

My name is Jess, and I work at the largest hunger relief organization in the Greater Philadelphia region, Philabundance. Philabundance was created in 1984 and its mission is to drive hunger from our communities today and ultimately ending hunger forever. There are three quarters of a million people in our 9-county service area within New Jersey and Pennsylvania who face hunger every day.

Philabundance provides food to approximately 90,000 of them per week – of which 30% are children and 15% are senior citizens.

I moved to Philadelphia from the Poconos in 2005 to attend Temple University, where I majored in Urban and Environmental studies. In college, I interned for the Farmers Market Program at non-profit The Food Trust, where I realized I wanted to pursue a career in the nonprofit world, specifically related to food. Upon graduation I landed the Fresh For All Coordinator position at Philabundance and in 2010 was promoted to FFA manager!

Fresh For All (FFA), one of Philabundance’s programs, is similar to a traveling farmers market which is set up at the same location every week at the same time so local residents can rely on the availability of food, specifically fresh produce, vegetables and fruit. In 2015, FFA distributed over 1.2 million pounds of food and served more than 6,000 households in PA and NJ.

Many of the volunteers who help us run the Fresh For All distributions are also clients of the program.

Volunteers are integral in the success of our day to day operations and their hard work cannot be praised enough. One volunteer in particular, Genevieve, has always stuck with me. Genevieve is 63 years old and was laid off from her retail job. To help make ends meet, she volunteered every week (rain or shine, year-round!) and also received a portion of her weekly fruits and vegetables from us.

It inspires me that folks in the community who may not be able to give financially are willing to give so much in other ways. Because of FFA, Genevieve was able to receive food from the program as well as enrich her community through her volunteer work. She eventually discontinued her service to Philabundance to attend a culinary training program and is now employed as a cook at one of our member agencies.

The first time I went out to one of the eight Fresh For All locations, I was taken aback by the number of people in need of our services. It is one thing to try to understand the income disparity and need in our region on a conceptual level, but to see it in action was an eye-opener. It makes coming to work a lot easier each day knowing that the work we do is helping to relieve the burden of food insecurity in our area.

Over the years, one of the main changes we have seen is in the demographics of our Philadelphia FFA sites.

We have begun to serve a large number of immigrant populations including Asian and South Asian communities. We are currently working on providing our materials in additional languages to be able to serve all clients with dignity and respect.

FFA offers volunteer opportunities allowing a hands-on and interactive experience with communities benefiting from the program. Volunteers are needed to help set up and distribute produce, among other tasks.

If you are interested in volunteering for Fresh For All or are bi-lingual and speak Cantonese, Mandarin or Spanish, and would like to use your skills translating for clients at our Fresh For All distribution sites, email volunteer@philabundance.org for more information on how to get involved. Or if you’re in need of food, visit our website at www.philabundance.org for more information about FFA sites, or for the food hotline.