I Cook Like
My Hormones Are Watching
by Bex Greenwell
I have a confession: I talk to my food while I cook it.
Not in a weird way. More of a quiet, encouraging kind of way. Like, yes, little clams, you’re doing amazing. Or okay, salmon — don’t let me down. It’s a whole thing. My kitchen is basically a stage, and I take the performance seriously.
But here’s the part that actually matters: I cook like my hormones are watching. Because honestly? They are.
The Lie We've Been Fed
(Pun Very Much Intended)
Somewhere along the way, a lot of us picked up this idea that healthy food is the food you tolerate — the sad desk salad, the flavorless brown rice, the thing you eat because you’re being “good.” And the food that actually tastes good is the guilty stuff, the treat, the cheat.
I reject this completely.
A perfectly blackened salmon with a crispy, spiced crust — the kind where the outside has that gorgeous char and the inside is still silky — will beat fried chicken on its best day. I will die on this hill. Food doesn’t have to hurt you to taste good. That’s just an Olive Garden lie, and we’re not accepting it anymore.
I cook most nights. I genuinely love it. After a full day of needles and nervous systems (mine is an acupuncturist), getting into the kitchen is almost meditative. Right now that my fire pit is back in rotation for the warmer months, I’ve been doing a lot of grass-fed steaks over open flame, skewered vegetables with the edges just kissed by fire, and my roasted chicken — bone broth gravy, quinoa, the whole situation — which I make probably twice a month and never get tired of. And when the local seafood supplier gets their morning shipment of fresh clams in from Seattle, I’m doing my white wine, dill, and tomato clam dish that makes my whole apartment smell like a coastal restaurant in the best possible way.
None of this is punishment. All of it is intentional. And all of it is, quietly, for my hormones.
What Your Hormones Are
Actually Asking For
If you’re somewhere in your late 30s or 40s — maybe noticing that your sleep is getting weird, your mood has opinions of its own, your digestion seems more sensitive than it used to be, and your body just feels like it’s running a slightly different operating system than it was five years ago — welcome to perimenopause. It’s not a disease. It’s a transition. But it does mean your body has some new nutritional requests, and it’s worth learning the language.
Here’s what I keep coming back to in my own cooking:
Omega-3 fatty acids — salmon, sardines, walnuts, flaxseed — these are anti-inflammatory powerhouses. And inflammation is basically the background noise of hormone disruption. It’s not the whole story, but quieting it down gives your body room to regulate.
Cruciferous vegetables — broccoli, Brussels sprouts, cauliflower, cabbage — these support estrogen metabolism through a compound called DIM (diindolylmethane). Your liver processes and clears hormones, and these vegetables genuinely help it do that job better. I roast mine with olive oil and flaky salt until the edges are almost burnt. Almost.
Phytoestrogens — flaxseed, tempeh, edamame, lentils — these are plant compounds that gently interact with estrogen receptors in ways that can help buffer the highs and lows of perimenopause. Not a replacement. More like a supporting cast.
Healthy fats — avocado, olive oil, nuts, pasture-raised eggs — your hormones are literally made from fat. Not the processed stuff. Real fat. I never use inflammatory oils in my kitchen. Avocado oil for high heat, good olive oil for everything else. That’s the whole policy.
Magnesium — dark leafy greens, pumpkin seeds, dark chocolate (yes, really) — this mineral is involved in over 300 enzymatic processes in the body, including cortisol regulation and sleep. Most women are quietly deficient in it. It shows up as poor sleep, anxiety, muscle tension, and irritability. Sound familiar?
Living in Boise, I’m genuinely spoiled by access to fresh, local produce (the farmer’s markets here are no joke), and it makes eating this way feel less like a discipline and more like a pleasure. Seasonal vegetables from someone who actually grew them hit differently than the stuff that’s been on a truck for a week.
The Way You Eat Matters
As Much As What You Eat
Here’s the part that I think gets overlooked almost entirely, and it’s the thing I find myself talking about with patients more than almost anything else.
In East Asian Medicine — the foundation of acupuncture and the lens through which I see most things health-related — how you eat is considered nearly as important as what you eat. The state of your nervous system at the meal matters. Whether you’re sitting down or standing over the sink matters. Whether you’re scrolling through your inbox or actually tasting your food matters.
Your digestive system is governed largely by the parasympathetic nervous system: the “rest and digest” branch. When you’re rushed, stressed, distracted, or anxious, your body is in sympathetic mode (“fight or flight”) and digestion is not a priority. Blood flow gets redirected. Enzyme production slows. The whole process becomes less efficient.
I had a patient once who came in with chronic digestive issues — bloating, discomfort, irregularity — despite the fact that she was eating remarkably well. By most measures, her diet was excellent. We couldn’t figure it out.
But eventually during a conversation, something surfaced: when she was growing up, her parents argued constantly at the dinner table. Every night. Dinner was tense. Unpredictable. Her body learned, as a child, to brace itself the moment she sat down to eat. That association (food = tension) had lived in her nervous system for decades without her even realizing it. She’d been eating stressed her whole life, and her gut had the receipts.
Once she became aware of it, and with regular acupuncture to help her nervous system learn a different response, her digestion genuinely improved. Not because we changed her diet. Because we changed the context in which she ate.
This is not a small thing. Your body keeps the score in ways that are sometimes incredibly subtle.
A Few Practices
I've Actually Stuck To
I’m not here to give you a 47-step wellness protocol. But there are a few things I do consistently that I think matter:
I cook with good music on. It slows me down. I’m less likely to rush a meal I enjoyed making.
I sit down. Every time. Even if it’s just me. Especially if it’s just me.
I don’t punish myself for going out. Eating out is a joy. Connection over food is ancient and real and important. A shared meal with people you love, even if it’s not the most optimized plate on earth, is doing something for your nervous system that a perfect meal eaten alone while stressed cannot touch. Guilt over food is its own kind of inflammation.
I cook without sugar. You don’t need it. Your palate adjusts. Roasting vegetables until they caramelize naturally, using good stock, finishing things with good acid, these are the moves that make food taste interesting without asking your pancreas to work overtime.
The goal isn’t perfection. The goal is consistency, pleasure, and presence. A body that’s nourished well and calm enough to actually absorb that nourishment is a body that functions better — hormonally, digestively, neurologically, all of it.
Your hormones are watching. Might as well give them something good to look at.
If any of this
Resonates
This is kind of our whole thing at Hidden Summit Acupuncture. Digestion, hormones, sleep, stress response: it’s all connected, and acupuncture is a genuinely powerful tool for helping your body recalibrate (we also treat pain like nobody’s business). If you’re in the Boise, Meridian, Nampa, or Eagle area and you’re curious about what that could look like for you, we’d love to have you in. You can schedule a visit right on our website — no pressure, just a conversation and a really good nap on the table.
Bex is a licensed acupuncturist at Hidden Summit Acupuncture in Boise. She cooks passionately, sources locally whenever possible, and firmly believes that food should be both medicinal and deeply enjoyable. She is also, for the record, undefeated in the blackened salmon debate.