Category Archives: peasant cooking

February 9, 2013 · 6:58 pm

Herbs for the Immune System, Hot Lipped Dilettante, and Cilantro Chicken Soup

secret books of my fancy

I know how to wear a suit and manage a business meeting. I am at home in the high technology world of telecommunications and can find my way through a brief full of legal jargon, but in my heart of hearts, I hanker to be a witch. Not a Wiccan, per se, but rather a tarot-card-reading, crystals-in-the-corner, mortar-and-pestle-in-the-kitchen, herbs-and-tissue-salts, type of gypsy-shaman-witch. My pantry holds the secret books of my fancy: Rainforest Home Remedies, Alternative Healing, The Yoga of Herbs, The Kitchen Witch Companion, New Holistic Herbal, Herbal Love Potions, and more.

So, when someone gets sick in our household, the first thing that goes on the stove is homemade chicken soup, followed by a rash of supplements, homeopathic offerings, and lots of hot tea. This winter Jay got the crud bad, maybe the worst ever. He was laid up for three weeks, re-discovering how bad movies and TV shows can get. This time, while I worked on revitalizing my knowledge of immune boosting supplements and folk cures, I also researched online for new chicken soup recipes. (Thank God my hankering to be a witch has coincided with the era of the internet!) Along with some of the other witchy and effective cold and flu fighting lore I have picked up over the years, I discovered one recipe recently I’d like to share with you all: Immune Boosting Chicken Soup. I found this pearl online at healthychefs.com It is a simple soup, with a bit of chicken, and lots of ginger, garlic, turmeric and cilantro, and beaten egg swirled in. It is “mommy, I don’t feel good, but this tastes yummy” good.

Now, about herbs for the immune system, I have some familiarity with that as well. Almost twenty years ago, I took a class called—wait for it—“Herbs for the Immune System”. It was offered at the Herbfarm in Issaquah, WA, which has some notoriety for its nine course dinners made by award winning chef, Jerry Traunfeld. I never have dined at the Herbfarm (there tends to be a six to twelve month waiting list) but I did attend classes or visit from time to time, making me . . . dangerous.

I wrote an article about the experience that I originally called “Just Call Me a Hot Lipped Dilettante”. This was published and renamed “Home Remedy Makes One Hot Mama” in the Feb/March 2008 online issue of humorpress.com. I offer it here as fair warning for any advice I am about to dispense.

Home Remedy Makes One Hot Mama 

By my own admission, I am a dabbler in life, filled with pseudo expertise, while totally lacking common sense. In college, I changed my major eleven times, until it dawned on me that honor grades alone would not produce a diploma. Now, as a married woman, raising kids and operating my own business, I still dilly-dally, vacillating from meditation to mediation to legal research to alternative health. The result is, I often know a little about a lot, which sometimes gets me into trouble.

On the fated day, I talked to gynecologists, herb specialists, even Harborview Burn Center, all of whom admitted they had never faced such a problem. “You did what?” “Oh you poor thing,” they all whispered under their breath, while trying desperately not to say “how could you do something so stupid!” But there I was in excruciating, yes, worse than childbearing, pain. What had I done? It was simple enough. I tried to treat a vaginal yeast infection, by a rather non-traditional method.

I had taken a class a few years back, you see, called “Herbs for the Immune System.” The teacher, I recalled, had espoused the marvelous benefits of a product called grapefruit seed extract. “Would kill anything,” he said, including, you guessed it, yeast infections. We happened to have some of this marvelous product in the house. (It really does tame a sore throat if you gargle with a few drops diluted in water—tastes like soap and makes you gag, but it works.)

Anyway, I failed to read over my notes, which would have reminded me to use the product in a suppository form. I also failed to read the warning label on the bottle: “Avoid contact with eyes or skin at 100% full strength. Use sparingly due to extreme potency. Do not exceed three drops per usage.” Instead, I relied on my own expertise and inserted two droppers of the stuff. That ought to kill it, I thought.

After a while, I felt some tingling down below. Great, I thought, it’s working. But it wasn’t long afterwards, the tingling increased in intensity. Soon I was in screaming agony. Nothing I did stopped the burning. It started to blister. I bathed in baking soda, douched with Acidophilus, applied ice. My husband and I huddled on the couch trying not to think of our future nights together.

After all known home remedies to stop the burning failed, my husband took me to Virginia Mason Emergency.

“What’s the problem, honey?” the receptionist asked sweetly as my husband wheeled me to the front desk.

“I think I burned myself.”

“Okay. What happened?”

“Well, it was, um, from an herbal product,” I flushed, trying to avoid telling her the whole truth.

“An herbal product? And, where is the burn?” she asked peering over the counter curiously.

I gave up and told her the whole story. She listened intently, trying not to react, but I noticed she crossed her legs and wouldn’t look me in the eye after that.

Several other hospital staff members somehow found reason to come check on me. I figured I was the latest coffee break story and they were all trying to get the facts straight. I remember one no nonsense nurse who came in to jot down a host of miscellaneous information. She hadn’t been briefed yet.

“Have you had any medication today, deary,” she asked taking notes.

“I’ve had two Percocets and a Tylenol with codeine,” I slurred.

“Now, why have you had so much pain medication?” she challenged, mistaking me for a druggy.

“Because I burned my vagina,” I said, by now enjoying the shock value and her momentary lack of composure.

She gave a little “oh-my-poor-dear” gasp and hurried out of the room.

Eventually, a female doctor examined me and deduced in hushed tones and a sympathetic voice that I had suffered second degree burns. She prescribed a soothing ointment and more pain pills, but explained the best help would be time.

Whether this incident has curbed my dabbling streak, I can’t be sure. I am happy to report, however, that vaginal tissue has a remarkable ability to heal itself. My only remaining scar is a bruised ego and my mother’s words haunting me: “How can you be so smart and so dumb . . ?” which reminds me of the time when I was seven and tried to see if electric scissors, famed for being able to cut anything, would cut my tongue . . . but that’s another story . . .

Still—despite my error in judgment the first time I used grapefruit seed extract, I still highly recommend this product for it really will tame a sore throat, if used diluted and sparingly.

Here is my gypsy/shaman/witch list of supplements and folk cure remedies that make my “remember to do or take when you get a cold or flu” list:

· Grapefruit Seed Extract

o dilute and gargle for a sore throat

· Andrographis Paniculate

o not as well known as Echinacea and Astragalus, but Jay swears by it—and he is not nearly as gullible as I

· Astragalus

o associated with a significant age-reversal effect in the immune system, have seen it work for Jay

· Oscillococcinum

o (European homeopathic flu remedy) – Ever since I literally watched my fever begin to plunge and suddenly recover in the course of an hour after diligently taking this, I am a believer. I always have it on hand.

· Vitamin D

o enhances innate immunity and inhibits the development of autoimmunity, plus many of us are deficient

· Drink lots of liquids, especially hot tea with honey

o “Breathe Easy” for sinus congestion

o “Herba Tussin” for colds and cough (my new favorite)

o Coconut Water – I swear drinking a coconut a day in India kept me from getting sick from the very polluted air

· Antronex

o natural antihistamine for allergies

· Vitamin C

o especially EmergenC packets that you dissolve in hot or cold water

· Rinse Sinuses with neti pot and sterilized water

o this is hands down the most effective remedy for preventing sinus infections

· Consider getting a chiropractic adjustment

o it’s amazing how being a little out of alignment will keep you from getting better

· Call Dr. Manlove or your favorite nutritional healing person

o http://www.drmanlove.com/ – our secret health fighting weapon

· Chicken Soup!

The witch inside me says, whether you or sick or not, get those stovetop cauldrons boiling with a good fresh pot of Immune Boosting Chicken Soup. It’s that time of year, after all.

Immune Boosting Chicken Soup (courtesy of The Healthy Chef): http://www.thehealthychef.com/2012/05/immune-boosting-chicken-soup/

Healthy Chef Version : My adaptations:

10 cloves garlic
2 Tbls finely grated ginger
1 Tbls freshly grated turmeric	I didn’t know about fresh turmeric and am excited to look for it; I used ground turmeric
1 liter (35 ¼ fl oz) chicken or vegetable stock	I used two boxes of free range organic chicken broth instead of adding any water; (sometimes I make my own chicken broth by boiling a whole organic chicken with carrots, onions, celery, salt and pepper) Vegetarians can substitute vegetarian broth
1 liter (35 ¼ oz) water	(see above)
500 g (17 ½ oz) free range/organic chicken breast, cut into chunks	Vegetarians can substitute tofu
2 bunches coriander, chopped	This is what we call “cilantro”
¼ cup mirin or rice wine	(note: not rice vinegar)
3 Tbls tamari soy sauce
2 eggs beaten	3 beaten eggs
	Cooked white rice (to make it a bit more filling); I use short grain sushi rice often
Optional: additional vegetables: mushrooms, spinach, kale	I added green beans on the second day

o Combine the garlic, turmeric, ginger, stock, water and chicken into a large pot. (I have also sautéed the garlic and ginger for a couple minutes first.)

o Simmer for 5 – 10 minutes over low heat until chicken is cooked through and flavors have infused into the stock.

o Pour beaten eggs in a thin stream over the simmering stock

o (Add rice)

o Add mirin, tamari, and coriander just before serving

Here’s to adding a dash of magic, a silent prayer, and a whole lotta love to your pots when caring for those you love this cold and flu season.

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Filed under peasant cooking, storytelling, Uncategorized

Tagged as chicken soup, cold supplements, cooking, folk remedies, gluten free, grapefruit seed extract, gypsy, immune boosting, shaman, vegetarian, witch

January 27, 2013 · 7:11 pm

Silver and Gold Friends, Backpacking Through Europe, and Moussaka

I was an avid Girl Scout when I was younger and I used to love to sing the camp songs that went along with scouting. One of the popular tunes was called “Make New Friends.” The lyrics tell you to make new friends, but keep the old because one is silver and the other gold.

In the last couple weeks, I have had the opportunity to appreciate that refrain. We moved to Alpine almost two years ago now and have begun to make new friends. (It’s always harder when you don’t have kids to break the ice.) Last week we invited some new friends/neighbors, Jacki and Wendell, over for dinner. We met them at our yoga class down the street – our main social outlet. We appreciated them immediately because they loved the outdoors and were always out hiking in the mountains nearby or running on the trails near our neighborhood. To honor the occasion, we broke out one of our oldest recipes ever: Greek Moussaka. We only make this dish about every five to ten years because it is a little labor intensive and wonderfully (devastatingly) rich. When we make it, we make lots of it – several casserole dishes worth. I say “we” because this is a dish that Jay traditionally makes, with me playing sous-chef. Anyway, we were happy we made lots because a week or so after our delightful evening with our new neighbors, one of my oldest friends, Wendela, whom I knew from high school and who was my first college roommate, came to visit. Wendela too, is an outdoor kind of girl. It had been ten years since we’d seen each other. She and I talked and caught up while we climbed Bell Bluff together. It’s a good long hike and we were pooped when we got back home. It was the perfect time to unfreeze some of our leftover Moussaka and enjoy it again with an old friend.

Jay (aka “Adam”) in a fig tree on Crete, 1982

I can’t even say the word “Moussaka” without immediately being transported back to the summer of 1982. That’s the summer, a year after I met Jay, that we spent backpacking through Europe. Our travels took us to different countries in Europe from England to Scotland, Wales, France, Italy, Greece, Turkey, Switzerland, Holland, and Germany. In Greece, Jay fell in love with Moussaka and tried it at every restaurant we went to, noting the subtle differences, paying attention to what he liked and didn’t like about various recipes. When we got home, he set out to find a recipe that matched the ones he liked best. The result is the recipe attached here.

While cooking up Moussaka and memories from our backpacking trip through Europe recently, I turned to the journal that I kept on that trip more than 30 years ago. I came upon following entry, written after 3 days on a train from Turkey to Switzerland. My journal says:

Spending many hours on a train leads to much soul-searching and thinking (if there’s anything left unsettled in your mind.) Between reading my new book and watching the beautiful East Italian coastline, I did a lot of thinking about my own future. Which way was right? The unanswerable questions circled my mind and tortured me endlessly. Should I go for Optometry? 6 years of hard study, challenge, a good income, but . . .then what?? Will I be content to look in peoples eye day after day. I kept thinking it’s not fair I can’t do what I want to do: write and teach. Then I started thinking maybe I can, despite the education budget cuts, teacher cutbacks, low pay. Maybe if I went for it and met some of the right people I could become a professor. On and on. Should I do this or this?

Funny how some refrains, like the old Girl Scout song, keep turning up in one’s life! 30 years later, I am still musing about what to do with my life and wondering why I can’t just write and teach! And in the next breath, thinking maybe I can . . .

Backpacking through Europe served as a microcosm for what the next 30 years of my life would be: adventure and travel with my best friend, sprinkled with making new friends, sprinkled with mystical experiences, interspersed with experiencing peaks (profound love) and valleys (fights) with Jay, all recorded in a journal. Even as I wonder what to do with my life, I find have been doing it all along – traveling and writing, appreciating friendships, searching for more, loving and struggling. One of the last entries from my 1982 backpacking through Europe diary says this:

Somehow I had grown accustomed to the haphazard lifestyle we’d been living: being surrounded by castles, ancient monuments, impressive buildings, ruins, endless churches, cobblestone streets, trains, the underground system and people from all walks of the earth speaking foreign languages. We’d been from the charming British countryside to the rugged incredible Swiss Alps, from sun bleaching dark tanning Greek isles to wild wet Holland. All along the way we were continuously amazed at how easily we adapted. At each moment we barely seem fazed to be walking under the Eiffel Tower, climbing the Shilthorn, or exploring old ruins. Throughout it all, we were just ourselves, feeling basic things: I’m tired, let’s eat, where are we sleeping? . . .

Looking back on it all, it seems fantastic — fabulous. But, our adventures were ordinary for where we were at the time. Everything felt natural. Still, it seems obvious once back in America our stories will sound most exciting, and enviable. Our pictures will look so interesting. We will continuously recall the experiences of our summer in Europe. Yet throughout it all, no matter where we were, the times that were best were those when we felt close to each other, had fun with each other regardless of (though taking advantage of) our surroundings.

“No matter where you go, No matter what you do or see or have, what matters most is who you have beside you.”

What I learned so long ago is that friends, old and new, but particularly best friends are so important, for these are people you can be close to and have fun with, regardless of your surroundings, regardless of the peaks and valleys of life.

I offer you our oldest recipe, our Moussaka recipe, which you might note is written in Jay’s handwriting. May it enrich your life, too.

Moussaka

Original Recipe Alternatives

3 medium eggplants
3 large onions diced	We usually use sweet onions
Butter
2 lbs ground lamb or beef	We usually do half and half; omit to make this vegetarian
3 Tbs tomato paste
½ cup red wine
½ cup chopped parsley ¼ tsp cinnamon
Salt and pepper to taste
6 Tbs flour	We use potato flour
1 quart milk
4 eggs, beaten until frothy
Nutmeg
2 cups ricotta cheese	Cottage cheese can be substituted (but I prefer ricotta)
1 cup fine bread crumbs	We get gluten free bread cubes like for stuffing and then pulse grind them in the blender
1 cup freshly grated parmesan
Olive oil (lots)
	Potatoes – cooked and diced

· Preheat oven to 375 degrees

· Peel eggplants and slice ½” thick

· Pour generous olive oil in skillet and brown the eggplant on both sides

· Heat 4 Tbs butter in same skillet and brown onions

· Add meat for 10 minutes

· Combine paste with wine, parsley, cinnamon, salt & pepper, and add to meat

· Simmer and stir

· Prepare white sauce in separate pan by melting 8 Tbs butter and whisking in flour

· Boil milk and add slowly to butter and flour mixture

· Stir constantly

· Cool mixture slightly then add in beaten egg, nutmeg and ricotta cheese

· Add salt & pepper to taste

· Grease a large pan (11 x 16) – or use multiple pans

· Sprinkle bottom with bread crumbs

· In our alternate and preferred version we add a layer of sliced potatoes on top of the bread crumbs

· Arrange alternate layers of eggplant, meat with parmesan

· Add white sauce on top

· Bake for one hour until golden

· This gets better each day!

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Tagged as backpacking, friendship, gluten free, moussaka, no matter where you go there you are, vegetarian, yoga

October 18, 2012 · 4:41 pm

From the Mayan Underworld of Xibalba to an Indonesian Salad called Gado Gado

With the final quarter of 2012 and the end of the Mayan calendar before us, I find my thoughts wandering to Xibalba – the Mayan door to the underworld, and with those musings comes a desire to share one of my favorite salad recipes: Gado Gado.

In most people’s reality, Gado Gado is about as far from the Mayan Underworld as you can get. It is a thoroughly Indonesian dish that I have read means “mix mix”. But for me, this summer, Gado Gado became inextricably linked with my oldest daughter Jaime and thoughts about Xibalba — a “mix mix” of memories, I guess.

It all started about 6 years ago when our family took one of our favorite vacations ever to Mexico, Belize and Guatemala. We visited the ruins of Chichen Itza and Tikal, and stayed in a little cottage right on the Mexican Riviera and also at the Maya Mountain Lodge, deep in the rainforests of Belize not too far from the Guatemalan border. But the highlight of our trip – we all agreed—was our trip to Xibalba. This was a caving adventure extraordinaire. The kind of adventure that lawyers in America rub their hands over – fraught with danger and fool hardiness– the kind of authentic adventure that does not avail itself too often.

Actun Tunichil Muknal (Cave of the Crystal Sepulchre), known locally as “Xibalba,” is essentially a Mayan archeological site, complete with skeletons, ceramics and stoneware. It is located deep in the jungle and you have to have a guide to go see it, but trust me that’s a good thing! Just to get to the cave you have to drive 45 minutes from San Ignacio – which in our case included having to forge a river in our rental car. Then you continue on foot for a 45-minute jungle hike, steaming with lush flora and wild fauna — and yes the fauna includes extremely poisonous snakes, namely the Fer de Lance, known to be the most aggressive, venomous and feared snake in the tropics! In fact, the part that scared our seasoned guide the most was the hike back when he spotted a Fer De Lance crossing our paths. After that he was on a hurried mission to get back to the car – oh and it had started to rain and that river we forged wasn’t getting any lower. . .

But back to Xibalba . . . in Mayan lore, a soul’s journey to Xibalba, which mean “place of fear,” is where the soul goes to be reborn and inherit eternal life. The journey involves entering a cave, crossing or traversing the length of a river and passing into the spirit world; there is said to be a crossroads where travelers have to choose from between four roads that spoke in an attempt to confuse and beguile; ultimately the journey winds up at or near the “underworld” counterpart located at the bifurcation or dark rift of the Milky Way – the very one that is supposed to be involved in a cosmic alignment this December.

Photo taken from deep within Xibalba

True to the legend, we found the entrance to the Actun Tunichil Muknal filled with water. After a moment’s pause and few wild vine swings into the river, we continued on our journey by swimming bravely into the dark looming cave entrance and then followed the stream deep into the cave. As we were holding hands together in rushing water up to our neck, while squeezing through a narrow passageway mindful of mini waterfalls up ahead . . . it struck me . . . this was no ordinary adventure. And it went on. We clambered over rocks and through tunnels and climbed handmade ladders to rock shelves twenty feet above the water, and ultimately found ourselves face to face with skeletons. It was amazing . . . and decently scary . . . kind of life itself

You see, I see the road to Xibalba as a metaphor for our own journey in life. I believe that, as humans, we all want to experience more peace, more love, more equanimity. We want to feel a connection with our Beloved, or the universe, or whatever it is we feel separate from when we are suffering . . . I have come to appreciate that along the way, our life’s journey will likely include some dark caves fraught with dangers and confusing options—some places or times in our lives when fear rules.

I also appreciate that on my own life journey adventure, I forget sometimes to see the travails as exciting and stimulating. I forget to be brave as I swim into the next cave’s dark entrance and to feel curious and alive in the scary “water up to my neck passageway” phase, instead of paralyzed with fear or indecision. Maybe that’s why I like adventure so much. It reminds me that I can be full of life and engaged amidst all kinds of terror. So a journey to Xibalba is a good thing – adventure is a good thing – physical challenges afford us the opportunity to believe in ourselves.

Which brings me back to the connection with Gado Gado, which as I mentioned is linked to my daughter Jaime.

Jaime and her boyfriend Jason went on a series of their own adventures this summer, which included sea kayaking in the wilds off British Columbia (without a guide) and bumming around Belize and Guatemala for a month, including visiting Xibalba, before visiting us back in San Diego. Let me just say, it’s one thing to be off on my own adventure or a family adventure, but quite another to have my kids off on a crazy adventure on their own with only limited contact . . . Hello Fear!

With limited contact, my part in their summer adventure was minimal—namely, receive sporadic texts from them and feed them when they got back to San Diego.

Since the texts tended to be brief and terrifying such as this one:

· Explored caves that make Actun Tunichil look like Disneyland

(Yikes! How much more intense could it get? Later, I learned they went under water holding their breath and clutching a rope in the pitch black for about ten feet to a hidden cave – creepy!)

I distracted myself from worrying by focusing on what to feed them upon their homecoming. Being as they are vegetarians, and it was still hot summer in SoCal, I decided on Gado Gado–an Indonesian salad that features all kinds of vegetables, tofu and egg and is smothered in a delicious spicy peanut sauce. It is fantastic and pretty easy to make. Thus, did Gado Gado become inextricably entwined in my memories with journeys to Xibalba.

So, whether you have just been to Xibalba and back, or just feel like you’ve been to Xibalba and back, or perhaps, like me, you feel rather like you are still on the road to Xibalba—stuck at the crossroads where all choices seem to confuse and beguile—it could be time for a some Indonesian Gado Gado.

Below is my preferred recipe from one of my favorite cookbooks, The Whole Chili Pepper Cookbook.

Time to let the “mix mix” of memories go and to indulge in a simpler sensory “mix mix” for the palette:

Gado Gado:

Whole Chili Pepper Cookbook: My variations:

The Dressing:
2 Tbl dried crushed red chili such as Piquin seeds included	1 Tbl Red pepper flakes
¼ cup finely chopped onion	I use sweet onions
1 Tbl finely chopped fresh ginger
1 clove garlic, minced
1 Tbl peanut oil	I use coconut oil or olive oil
1 ¼ cup unsweetened coconut milk	I use 1 can
½ cup crunchy peanut butter	I use peanut butter with no sugar
2 Tbl soy sauce	I use tamari
2 Tbl brown sugar	I use coconut crystals or sucanat
1 Tbl lemon juice	I sometimes use lime juice

The Salad:
2 fresh bean-curd cakes	I use the tofu that come in plastic containers – firm or extra firm
2 cups shredded cabbage
2 large new (red) potatoes, boiled and cut into ¼” slices	I often use many small red potatoes
¼ pound cooked green beans, cut into 3” pieces
2 cups bean sprouts
1 medium carrot, cut into 2 by ¼” julienne strips, cooked
1 large cucumber, sliced
2 hard cooked eggs	Or more
2 scallions, thinly sliced including the greens	I use regular green onions
1 cup roasted peanuts

To Make the Dressing:

· Sauté the onions, ginger, and garlic in the oil until softened.

· Stir in the remainder of the ingredients.

· Bring to a boil, stirring constantly.

· Reduce the heat and simmer until thickened, about 10 minutes.

To Make the Salad:

· Poach the bean curd in simmering water for 10 minutes. (I don’t do this part with the tofu that comes in the plastic containers.)

· Cut bean curd (tofu) into 1” cubes.

· Arrange the vegetables in layers, starting with the cabbage, then cucumbers, potatoes, green beans, bean sprouts, carrots, and tofu.

· Place egg slices around the side.

· Top with the scallion onions and chopped peanuts.

· Warm the dressing and either pour over the salad or serve in a bowl on the side.

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Tagged as 2012, Gado Gado, gluten free, Indonesia, indonesian cooking, mayan, Mayan underworld, peanut sauce, salad, soul journey, vegetarian, Xibalba

May 3, 2012 · 6:39 pm

Hot and Wholesome: Green Curry Paste

The other day we were out with friends at a Thai restaurant in Los Gatos and as per usual we ordered the Green Curry – we explained to our friends that it’s our way of testing out a new Thai Restaurant. If the Green Curry passes muster then we will surely return. Well, the Green Curry at Thai Spice of Los Gatos was delicious, and it served a greater purpose. It reminded me how much joy I used to get from making my own. I have gotten out of the habit lately, falling prey to the super cheater method of getting a jar of pre-made green curry paste . . . don’t get me wrong, it always tastes good – I mean how bad can anything be after adding a can of coconut milk – but still, it is definitely not the same experience . . .

So as soon as I got home, I pulled out my old truly favorite cookbook called The Whole Chile Pepper Book, by Dave DeWitt and Nancy Gerlach. I first picked it up when the kids were very young. At that time we had become obsessed with spicy dishes. We were curious about all the different chiles available and wanted to know how they compared to each other. The Whole Chile Pepper Book has a section at the front with photographs of the world’s best chiles and descriptions about their flavor and level of spiciness. Each chapter starts with a little historical perspective on a particular region’s spicy cuisine. As such it is a wonderful resource to learn more – and the recipes from around the world are the best! Many times I have given this cookbook as a gift.

Let’s just say, this cookbook opened doors for us and led us to enjoy spicier cuisines and encounters. We knew we loved cayenne, Anaheim, jalapeno, serrano, chipotle and poblano, but we wanted to try more. What were mirasol, pasilla and piquins like? We became obsessed. Our inquiries eventually led us to the habanero. These, we learned, were the hottest chiles available. Habaneros are small squarish, orangish yellow chiles and have a particular kind of smoky taste to them. They are quite distinguishable from other peppers. They rank a 10/10 on the Capsaicin heat scale.

On my 30^th birthday, my father-in-law, Howard, (a certified lover of the spiciest dishes) challenged me to a habanero-eating contest. He pretty much popped one in his mouth and without batting an eye, ate it. Not to be outdone, I quickly did the same. Holy Guacamole! Within seconds, tears were streaming down my face. I jumped up and began hopping up and down hysterically and running around in little circles. Habaneros are really really hot . . .!

But what can I say? It was an era of drinking too much, and believing our physical and emotional bodies could handle anything . . . in short, we had become addicted to a hot and spicy life – tears and hysteria were part of the journey.

Hand Painted Spanish Dancers

Salsa Cupboard and Painted Chiles

During this time we had parties with our friends every weekend. Our house was the largest, so we nearly always hosted the parties. We built a dancing deck and painted giant wall murals directly on the walls of our kitchen: Spanish dancers, bougainvillea, grape vines and, of course . . . chile peppers. One night we got seriously rambunctious and declared that a salsa cupboard was a mandatory new addition to the kitchen. All cupboards were spoken for so we grabbed a Sawzall and sawed a large opening in the wall between our kitchen and living room. This became our new built-in salsa shelf. Above it, we hammered in dowels to hold our random collection of wine glasses. We initiated the protocol that every adult attendee had to bring one jar of salsa and one wine glass to each party.

Mind you, there were usually 6 kids under 5 running around, and . . . well, I guess now that my kids are grown and seem to be doing quite well, I can share this . . . we relied on a sort of “benign neglect” concept of parenting at these parties. The kids had their room and we had ours. We provided toys, snacks, movies and playmates. Everyone brought jammies and a blankie with them . . . they could stay up or lie down to sleep as pleased them.

I am not entirely sure I can recommend our technique, for certainly there were downsides . . . such as the following morning, which came awfully soon after the night had ended, when one of the children would pitter patter across the floor and pull open the blinds, announcing in the most precious innocent little Cindy Lou Who voice “Look Mommy – it’s morning time!” (. . . aarrgghh . . . snarfle snarfle . . . really?)

Over indulgence aside, it was also during this era that I began to appreciate the joy of making things from scratch. Some of it stemmed from having fun with the kids. These were our homeschooling days, so while our nights were hot and spicy, intoxicating, and adult driven, our days were filled with looking at the world from the perspective of a child full of curiosity. Everything was an opportunity to integrate learning in a wholesome way and the kitchen figured prominently: for instance, we started a garden and intentionally grew all our own ingredients so that we could “grow vegetable soup” from seed! It was also during this era that my Aunt Marjan (the real gourmet cook of the family) encouraged me to buy an old-fashioned pasta maker at a garage sale. The kids and I learned how to make our own pasta dough and spent many an hour cutting the homemade dough into strips that we draped around the kitchen to dry. Of course, we grew rows of our own basil so that we could make our own pesto to go on our hand-cut noodles . . . everything was fresh and delicious and fun to make!

But truly one of the greatest “cooking from scratch” discoveries of this chapter in my life was making green curry paste. I think it was at this time that I began to evolve into a kind of peasant kitchen witch (with a “w” . . . I hoped) There’s something about standing in the kitchen before a mortar and pestle grinding seeds for this paste that is purely magical . . . and the aroma? Well, it is simply intoxicating (and thankfully, while it is certainly addicting, does not contribute to a hangover!)

My well loved page from
The Whole Chile Pepper Book

So, as I was saying, I recently was flooded with memories of this time, including the joy of making my own green curry paste, and as soon as I got home I pulled out The Whole Chile Pepper Book and began. Into the blender I popped serranos, jalapenos, garlic, shallots, ginger and cilantro. Then into my beautiful stone mortar I threw coriander seeds, caraway seeds, whole peppercorns, cumin, nutmeg, cloves and lemon rind, and, pestle in hand, began grinding . . . It was bewitching . . . the fragrance of these fine spices and chiles swirling together filled the kitchen. (Trust me, if you don’t have a mortar and pestle yet – it’s worth it just for this recipe.) The stress of three days traveling for work, the recent worries about my own worthiness, all got lost in the scent. Jay, in the other room ever working long diligent hours paused as the smell reached him. “When will dinner be ready?”

And, as I stood there grinding, my memories swirled too, and I began to realize that life is a bit like that: a combination of all kinds of different ingredients: different eras, different chapters, different stories. Each one contributes some of the flavor to your life’s story, and together, however humble or grand, they create something rich, extraordinary and unique.

After making the green curry paste once again after so long, we sat down to eat while watching a movie: Arabian Nights. In the movie Scheherazade tells the prince a series of wondrous stories to cure him of his madness. And in one of the opening scenes, we hear these words: “People need stories more than bread itself – they teach us how to live and why”.

And so it was that the “open sesame” magic of reopening The Whole Chile Pepper Book and performing the actions required to make the paste had two effects: one was bringing to mind stories from an entirely different chapter of my life–stories that left their own indelible lessons; the other was to simultaneously bring me to the present moment: standing in my new kitchen, filled with a delectable aroma, children now off to college—the mystery of my life yet unfolding unknown before me.

As I stood there, experiencing the discreet spices combining to create something new and the confluence of my stories old and new, I recognized my own madness and programming and appreciated the possibility that whatever had passed before and whatever was yet to come, I was still learning how to live and why.

My life is filled with stories that feed me: some good, some not so good. Some of these stories may inspire me to act more loving, forgive more easily, or participate more fully, as the storyteller in the Arabian Nights proclaimed. And yet, as I was recently reminded, and what my own moments of great clarity support: even the greatest story is not as good as that which lies beyond the reach of any story, that which lies beyond the “I” in the stories, beyond the reach of fear and worry, beyond the reach of all afflicted emotions. What is that? Pure awareness –-a state of being that might be described as vibrant still peace –where all that remains is a reverent awe and a whisper of curiosity as to life’s beautiful potential. Devoid of all stories, life itself is inherently burgeoning and fertile, hot and wholesome.

Time to cook.

Green Curry Paste

The Whole Chile Pepper Book My adaptations

10 Serrano or Jalapeno chiles, stems removed (heat can be adjusted by reducing the number of chiles)	6 Serranos, 1 large Jalapeno I play with the amount and kind of chiles I put in my paste and I always taste the chiles to gauge their individual hotness – if I am lacking hotness, I add the seeds too. (Note: the end next to the stem is the hottest part of a chile)
2 Tbl chopped garlic
¼ cup chopped shallots, or substitute ¼ cup chopped scallions, including the greens
1 Tbl finely chopped fresh ginger	Sometimes I use a little more
¼ cup chopped fresh cilantro
2 tsp whole coriander seeds
2 tsp whole caraway seeds
1 tsp whole black peppercorns
1 tsp ground cumin	I always use whole cumin seeds and double the amount – 2 tsps whole seeds
1 tsp ground nutmeg	I use freshly ground nutmeg
¼ tsp ground cloves
2 tsp grated lemon rind
2 to 4 tsp vegetable oil	I use olive oil
Yield: 1 cup	I usually find my batch is more than 1 cup

· Puree the chiles, garlic, shallots, ginger, and cilantro in 1 Tablespoon oil until it is a smooth paste. (I usually just use my blender for this.)

· Grind the seeds and peppercorns. (I always use my stone mortar and pestle –mmmmm)

· Add ground seed mixture to paste

· Add any remaining ingredients (for instance if you had ground cumin or nutmeg)

· Puree to a thick paste, adding more oil if necessary.

If you want a yummy recipe to use this paste with, try this one, also from The Whole Chile Pepper Book – you can use whatever protein you want – last time I made the paste I used one half in the below recipe with chicken sausage instead of plain chicken and the next day I used white fish instead of chicken in this recipe. You could also use just vegetables or vegetables and tofu or another meat substitute to make it purely vegetarian.

Chicken with Green Curry Paste

The Whole Chile Pepper Book My adaptations

4 Serrano or Jalapeno chiles, stems removed, thinly sliced	As much as I love hot food, I usually only add one or two or sometimes no extra chiles, since the paste above has so many . . .
1 cup Green Curry Paste (above)	When I make the Green Curry Paste recipe above, I often split it into enough for two dinners – not sure if I use a whole cup or not
1 Tbl fish sauce	Vegetarians can substitute extra sauce or tamari
1 ½ cups unsweetened coconut milk	1 can
1 ½ lbs chicken, skin removed, cut into 1” strips	I substitute whatever protein I have: chicken sausage, tofu, fish . . .
1 Tbl sugar	I use sucanat
2 tsp lemon juice	I sometimes use lime juice
½ cup chopped fresh basil	. . more never hurts
¼ cup chopped fresh mint
	I often add additional vegetables to this dish: onions, bell pepper, zucchini . . . whatever I have on hand
	I add salty water or chicken broth for a soupier version

· Heat the curry paste and the fish sauce in one half of the coconut milk.

· Add the chicken (protein) and cook until just tender.

· Remove the chicken and keep warm (I almost never actually take the chicken out . . .)

· Stir in the chiles, sugar, lemon juice, and remaining coconut milk. (I usually taste it here to decide how hot I want it and if I want to add more chiles.)

· Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer for 10 minutes until the sauce is creamy and thickened. (If I want to make it a little soupier instead of thickened, I sometimes add salty water or chicken broth.)

· Return the chicken and add the basil.

· Cook for additional 5 minutes or until thoroughly heated.

· Serve over steamed rice. (I often serve this in a bowl so that I can scoop up extra sauce and drown my rice a little.)

Invite a little hot and wholesome into your life today!

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Filed under peasant cooking, storytelling, Uncategorized

Tagged as awareness, benign neglect, chiles, clarity, green curry paste, spicy

April 19, 2012 · 3:33 am

Bell Bluff, Buddha and the Brain, GigaBeam, and Bi Bim Bap!

Last week my niece, Mikayla, came to visit. The story was that Mikayla had been accepted to a couple universities in San Diego and came down to take a closer look, but I think she just wanted to hang out with us! I am so glad she did–it was relaxing and fun and gave me an excuse to do all the things I like to do around here: check out new places and things to do, go shopping, go to the beach, kayak on the lake, and of course–cook exotic and yummy peasant food and climb Bell Bluff!

This is how the week looked:

Wednesday: University of San Diego –did you know this is the 4^th most beautiful campus in the world? And I have to say it lives up to that reputation with stunning architecture, landscaping and views!
Thursday: prom dress shopping (anyone who knows me, knows this was super fun for me!) and yoga
Friday: talk to the honors program and watch a water polo match (my first) at San Diego State University–my goodness, I had no idea how cool San Diego State University was. In addition to a complete recreation and fitness facilities, they have an Aquaplex! SDSU was just selected for the second year in a row to host the NCAA Women’s Water Polo National Championships in 2012. It’s no wonder, the facility is quite impressive: Five different pools, of varying depths to accommodate diving, water polo, lane swimming and recreational fun – not to mention a giant hot tub as well . . . the students study for exams in bikinis on poolside loungers – who wouldn’t want to go to school here?? Okay – the honors program is pretty cool too – only 200 kids out of 5,000 incoming freshman make the cut!
Saturday: climb Bell Bluff and make Bi Bim Bap! Mind you the Bell Bluff hike is not for sissies. It is about 9 miles roundtrip and takes five long hours–the first 4 miles are a gradual doable ascent, then the last half mile is a bushwhacking scrabble up the mountainside. The hike was sweetened with the knowledge that our dinner plans were to introduce Mikayla to Bi Bim Bap – a Korean meal served in a hot stone bowl with rice and vegetables (steak and eggs optional) and a special chili sauce. Yum–this is truly one of my favorite peasant recipes–and to think I didn’t even know it existed until 5 years ago!
Sunday: Dutch Easter brunch (my mom’s famous tradition featuring a collection of eggs, meats, cheeses, breads, chocolate and condiments), lazing around reading, and kayaking on the lake
Monday: work on a surprise for Mikayla’s parents, go see the wave pool and boardwalk at Mission Beach, and go to a special class taught by a psychologist, Doug Brackmann, called “Zen, Buddha and the Brain”

As you can imagine, we had a great week–but one of the peaks (literally and metaphorically) for me was hiking Bell Bluff and making Bi Bim Bap (well–also coming up with the surprise for Mikayla’s present, but shhhhh, it may still be a secret)

The thing about hiking Bell Bluff, is it’s always somewhat questionable–once you make it to the base of Bell Bluff and start climbing straight up–whether you will actually make it to the top this time. Intense resistance and the urge to quit as exhaustion sinks in grows exponentially.

Luckily, we simply impose a free whining zone for that last stretch–we take a deep breath and freely complain about all the bits and pieces of our bodies that are tired and hurting, but we keep walking. Somehow paying closer attention to the body (instead of the “I can’t do this!” I’ll never make it!” “What was I thinking anyway???” thoughts that begin to run rampant) helps.

It turns out, while we didn’t especially make the connection, this mountain climbing tactic is essentially what we are learning in our Zen, Buddha and the Brain class and simulates what we practice when we meditate–whenever the mountain of life seems too steep–that is, when mental suffering sets in–bring your attention back to the body! Notice what is going on physically, instead of the story generated by your thoughts. Allow your thoughts to drift away naturally, bring your attention back to the breath. mmmmmm–it’s so good!

But, speaking of good, let’s get back to Bi Bim Bap–the real inspiration for writing this blog entry . . . it was actually during a time in the last five years when I was bipping and bopping up and down the east coast for work that I came to try Bi Bim Bap for the first time. I could hardly believe that there was a gluten free ethnic dish of this quality that I had never even heard of! At the time, Jay and I were working for GigaBeam, whose headquarters were located in Herndon, VA, not far from DC. For a period of a couple years, we worked long hours and would be away from home for 2 – 4 days at a stretch almost every other week. We got to know all the restaurants in the vicinity of work intimately. Then one day a new Korean Restaurant opened very nearby (sadly that restaurant has since gone out to business.) A colleague very excitedly told us we had to go there and we had to try the Bim Bim Bap – the Bee Bim What? Well try it we did and it became our favorite dinner choice.

Bi Bim Bap is traditionally served in a hot stone bowl (and then named “Dol Sot Bi Bim Bap,” which I am advised means Hot Stone Bowl with Mixed Rice.) The hot stone bowl allows the rice on the bottom of the bowl to get crispy. On top of the rice, a whole bunch of seasoned vegetables and mushrooms sit and for non-vegetarians some steak strips marinated in a sweet sesame, garlic and soy sauce mixture as well. Then a fried egg is added, and the whole thing is smothered in Korean Chili sauce called Gochuchang, sometimes spelled Kochuchang (Hot Red Pepper Paste). This sauce really makes the dish and tastes decidedly different from a Mexican or Chinese hot pepper sauce.

By my way of thinking Dol Sot Bi Bim Bap is quintessentially peasant, but made exotic and interesting by being served in stone bowls. Recently when my mom was visiting I discovered a great Korean supermarket, “Zion Market”, in San Diego (something like Uwajimaya of Seattle). We were able to purchase some of these stone bowls and voilà can now make authentic Bi Bim Bap! (But, don’t let the lack of stone bowls stop you from making Bi Bim Bap – it’s delicious either way!!)

So in honor of one of the best things I got from working at GigaBeam . . . . an introduction to Bi Bim Bap . . . and in honor of Bell Bluff and Buddha Brain . . I offer you one of my new favorite recipes: Bi Bim Bap. I have tried several different recipes, but have settled on the following one that mom found at allrecipes.com.

All Recipes.com recipe My substitutions:

½ cup soy sauce	½ cup wheat free tamari
½ cup white sugar	(omit)
½ brown sugar	½ cup sucanat
¼ cup minced garlic
1/3 cup chopped green onion
4 tablespoons sesame seeds
20 ounce rib-eye steak, sliced thin	Omit for vegetarians – I use filet mignon
Salt and pepper to taste
3 cups uncooked glutinous (sticky) white rice, rinsed	I sometimes substitute regular short grain white rice
6 ½ cups water
4 dried shiitake mushrooms	Omit or use whatever you have on hand
1 pound fresh spinach, washed and chopped
12 ounces cucumber, julienned
12 ounces carrots, julienned
Sesame oil
8 ounces bean sprouts
6 eggs
6 sheets nori, crumbled	I offer nori sprinkles on the side (or omit if I don’t have)
6 tablespoons sesame oil
¼ cup chili bean paste (Kochujang)

For the non-vegetarian version: Make the marinade for the beef. Combine soy sauce or tamari, sugar, garlic, green onions, sesame seeds in a large bowl; add the sliced beef strips to the marinade, and season with salt and pepper. (note: if you are making a vegetarian version – make some of this marinade and soak your vegetables in it instead.) Cover and refrigerate for at least 2 hours (well – okay I am not usually that organized so I just marinade it while I am cooking everything else . . .)
Bring the rice and water to a boil in a saucepan over high heat. Reduce heat to medium-low and cover; simmer until the rice is tender and the liquid has been absorbed, 20 to 25 minutes. (Or — do as I do and use a rice cooker and hit start.)
Preheat an oven to 425 degrees F (220 degrees C), and place Korean stone bowls in the oven. (Note: I have tried the oven method with the stone bowls in the oven and I find it just does not get them hot enough. I put them directly on the burners of my gas stove–as the Korean lady at Zion market suggested–to heat them instead. And remember – don’t be deterred if you don’t have stone bowls, just put the ingredients in your regular soup bowls.)
Place wok or frying pan over medium-high heat. Cook carrots and cucumbers in a small amount of sesame oil to soften, stirring frequently. Remove from pan, and set aside. Add a small amount of sesame oil to the pan, and cook spinach in sesame oil for a minute or two. Remove spinach from pan and set aside. Add the meat strips and marinade to the wok, cook, stirring frequently, until the liquid reduces in volume, about 4 to 5 minutes.
Transfer the stone bowls from the oven (or stove top) to suitable heat resistance surface. Brush each bowl with sesame oil to coat. Divide the rice into the bowls, and gently pack to the bottom (it’s perfect if you have gotten the bowls hot enough for the rice to sizzle as you arrange). Arrange the cucumbers and carrots, bean sprouts, greens, shiitake mushrooms, and beef mixture over each portion of the rice.
The allrecipes.com recipe now says to add a raw egg to each bowl, and to drizzle it with sesame oil and nori sprinkles. But I always fry the egg over easy first and then add it to the bowl.
Serve with the Kochujang sauce and encourage guests to smother the top of the bowl of food with the sauce.

Oh, this is just the best!! All yummy ingredients, an interesting sauce – pure comfort food. But don’t trust my word, ask Mikayla!

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Filed under peasant cooking, storytelling

Tagged as bi bim bap, gluten free, stone bowls, vegetarian

February 13, 2012 · 2:31 am

Meditation Retreats, Friendship, and Red Lentil Dal — an Indian Version of “Stone” Soup

As a self-declared “peasant cook” I have a natural affinity and appreciation for stone soup. What could be better than combining all kinds of ingredients in the pot to create something new? This recipe comes from – well all over the place, as it should–but essentially it is stone soup with an Indian flare.

For me this soup has a way of stirring up memories hankering back to days of embarking on a spiritual journey, of attending and hosting meditation retreats, and of traveling to ashrams in India. In fact before participating in a meditation community, I had never cooked Indian food and was unfamiliar with red lentils. I only knew of the larger brown lentils – and I didn’t much care for their very earthy flavor. But red lentils, I found out, I like. They are smaller, and both sweeter and a little nutty (something like the meditation community itself!) They are a common main ingredient in vegetarian dal, and as such are full of protein and very filling. They are the perfect starting ingredient to feed a large crowd. They are the stone in this stone soup. The basic recipe for this red lentil soup, also known as Masur Dal, shown in the picture attached, was originally copied down at a gathering with fellow meditators.

The legend of stone soup, while it starts out as a kind of trick, ends up being about a gathering of community–of coming together and sharing–of letting go of individual belongings to create something greater. Do you recall the story?

Weary travelers–let’s call them gypsies — come to a village carrying nothing more than an empty pot. They are starving when they arrive but the villagers are not willing to share any of their food. So the gypsies fill the pot with water and drop a stone in the pot. The actions spark the curiosity of the villagers. They ask the gypsies what they are cooking. “Stone Soup” is the reply. “Come join us!” they say. “It’s quite tasty, although it would benefit from a little salt.” One villager decides he doesn’t mind parting with a little seasoning to help them out. The gypsies stir the pot. “It’s very good, but a carrot might add something too.” Another villager decides he can offer up a carrot. “Maybe some pepper … “ And so word gets out and soon all the villagers have come round the pot, bearing their own addition to the soup pot. As each villager lets go of something from his or her own cupboard, the soup is enriched and grows more delicious, and the villagers instead of resenting feeding the gypsies, anxiously await the new concoction and ultimately appreciate the potential for new friendship.

A meditation gathering, coincidentally, is much the same–although perhaps the opposite is happening. Weary travelers on our own spiritual journey, we gather together for support, initially unknowingly hanging on tightly to our thoughts and beliefs. As we sit with our own self–we notice our thoughts and we practice gently letting them go. Ultimately, we discover something more–a quiet fullness that is present in the gaps between our thoughts. Later, we share with the group our experiences. And, as a result of sharing our intimate selves with other, we gain friends.

So while a full pot is the hope of the stone soup ritual and an empty mind is the hope of a meditation retreat–it comes from the same principal of letting go of our attachments and opening to something unknown with curiosity. And, whether we empty our minds or fill our pots, when we come together in friendship and share, something greater than the individual is bound to be experienced.

And so it was that my spiritual journey encouraged me to be curious and ultimately led me to meet new people and to have all kinds of new experiences, including enjoying new and delightful foods. As Jay and I got to know the meditation community, it came to pass that we offered to host meditation retreats at our house. We would gather in communal spirit for several days and nights together. Because the intention was to meditate – not to host a party – the eating arrangements were to be vegetarian and very simple: yoghurt, granola, fruit and nuts in the morning; fruit in the afternoon; a one pot meal plus salad in the evening. All the guests brought potluck ingredients so that nobody was too burdened with cooking obligations. We took turns being responsible for the evening meal.

At the end of one of these retreats, our good friend and meditation teacher Durga, announced that she was going to make an Indian Masur Dal. I watched her fill a large pan with small very pretty tiny red beans and was immediately intrigued. What are those? How do you cook them? She rinsed the red lentils and added water to the large pot. She had set out turmeric, coriander, cumin, ginger, garlic, curry and coconut milk. She indicated the rest of the ingredients would come from leftovers of earlier meals.

I can’t help but pause now, thinking of Durga. Let me just say Durga is truly a force unto nature herself – small in stature, but large in spirit and exuberance (and hair J) she fills a room with her presence. Her name, which represents a Hindu goddess, is a kind of spiritual stone soup in itself: Durga is said to combine the energies of all the gods and the weapons depicted in her many arms are weapons given to her by various gods: Rudra’s trident, Vishnu’s discus, Indra’s thunderbolt, Brahma’s kamandalu, Kuber’s Ratnahar. Whatever the case, in the last 15 years, my stone soup friend, Durga, has taught me much about meditation and about the spiritual journey, but perhaps most about friendship — Durga understands the value of friendship, and honors it as a supreme spiritual path unto itself. For Durga, friendship is the stone in her spiritual soup.

But back to the red lentil soup . . . as Durga indicated that day, once you have the basics, you can add whatever else you want. The last time I made this, I literally added all the leftovers in my fridge: tofu, potatoes, peas, broccoli, bell peppers, rice, onions, pesto . . . Shortly afterwards, we went on a mini vacation, but there was still some left. I asked our pet sitter to give Gypsy (our dog) some on top of her food. Gypsy, who once was a stray, always gets some sort of human food on her dog crunchies. I figured she was used to foraging for human leftovers; she so clearly loves them all. Besides, it makes me smile to add some to her dinner every night – dogs should enjoy stone soup too!

When we returned our pet sitter had left us a note. “Everything went well. By the way, what was that soup that I put on top of Gypsy’s food? It looked delicious! Can I have the recipe?”

So here it is, friends – a stone soup with an Indian flare honoring the soul searching Gypsy in all of us.

Basic Recipe:
1 cup red lentils
3 Tbl olive oil
1 onion, chopped finely
3 cloves garlic
½ tsp minced ginger	I usually use more
1/2 tsp turmeric
½ tsp – 1 tsp curry powder
1 tsp cumin
½ tsp coriander
½ tsp garam masala	Optional
½ tsp mustard seeds	Optional
1 tsp crushed pepper
Salt
3 cups water or chicken broth
1 can coconut milk

Common additional ingredients:
1 can or 2 tomatoes, diced
1 carrot, chopped or grated
1 -2 bell pepper, chopped
½ bunch green onions, chopped
Lemon or lime juice
Cilantro or parsley to garnish

Options for the “stone soup” part:	I tend to add whatever leftovers I have
cooked potatoes
cooked rice or quinoa
Tofu
Jalapenos or cayenne
Pesto
Peas
Cooked broccoli

Heat the oil in a big pot and cook onions and garlic for a couple of minutes
Add green onions, peppers, and carrots. Stir for 5 minutes
Add tomatoes, ginger, turmeric, curry, cumin, coriander, garam masala, cumin, mustard seeds, crushed peppers, and salt.
Stir for another 5 minutes, and add red lentils and water or broth
Bring to boil then simmer until done
Pour in coconut milk and simmer 10 more minutes
Add cooked leftovers
Garnish with cilantro. Squeeze a little lemon or lime juice on the soup.

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Filed under peasant cooking, storytelling

Tagged as attachment, community, empty mind, friendship, letting go, masur dal, meditation, red lentil. meditation, stone soup

January 11, 2012 · 9:57 pm

Elephants, Dolphins and Sri Lankan Lentil Pancakes with Coconut Sambol

About every 2 -3 months, I remember with delight to make Sri Lankan lentil and rice pancakes. In a gluten free household, they are one of our favorite breakfast foods, so hearty and satisfying – full of protein and carbs –yummy!

Still, I can hardly even think the words “Sri Lanka” without immediately being transported to 1984, the year we got married and the year we lived near our friends Diane and Charlie in Los Angeles. Diane had been my best friend in high school and co-incidentally we both moved to the Los Angeles area and met engineers who got jobs for the same company, Hughes. We were in each other’s wedding parties and married within a month of each other in the same beautiful little glass church atop Palos Verdes. Our interests ran alike: skiing, sailing, travel. Before long we both had sailboats. There was an undercurrent of competitiveness as one or the other of us got a bigger sailboat, or a better job, or a cuter house . . . . but I remember the intense pang of envy that came up when Diane and Charlie got the chance to travel to Sri Lanka. They came back with totally cool stories and decorated their little house with Sri Lankan batiks and photos of themselves riding elephants! It looked so exotic, so amazing, so fun.

They did not come back with Sri Lankan recipes, however, and the course of our lives fairly soon thereafter took us to different parts of the country to have and raise our families. While we didn’t lose touch, we rarely saw each other for the next 25 years. So forgive me as I meander over to another completely different memory triggered also by these pancakes, for the recipes came to me another way, years later after we had children.

I learned how to make this simple culinary delight in Hawaii on a trip where we spent time swimming with wild dolphins. On this occasion we had been invited to stay with a friend who lived on the northwest corner of Oahu. They had a little cottage a few blocks from the ocean. She was a fellow American whom we met at a meditation retreat, married to a copper artist from Sri Lanka, who was also the primary cook in their household. He made fabulous dishes usually featuring wild plants and exotic trees from their abundant garden and always accompanied by lentil pancakes and sambol – a coconut curry condiment. What a sweet vacation this was for us!

Their neighbor, Terry Pinney, who lived on the ocean, was a fascinating woman who made her living arranging for autistic kids to swim with the wild dolphins that frequented the sea near her house. She said she had a psychic connection with the dolphins that allowed her a closer relationship. While this was fascinating in itself, her stories of working with autistic children were particularly heartwarming.

She had other stories about dolphin research too. My favorite was about a friend of hers who studied dolphins in captivity. The researcher felt a little sorry for them and on a whim decided to teach the mother and baby dolphin how to paint – no kidding!! I saw the videos of it. The researcher strapped a giant paintbrush to the head of the dolphins and then hung one giant palette of paint colors and one giant empty canvas from the dock. The dolphins learned how to go up to the paint and get a color on their brush and then paint it on the blank canvas. Incredible! She did discover something as well. The baby only painted with primary colors while the mother painted with all colors – so fascinating. I read recently you can now arrange for a “painting with the dolphins” vacation . . . isn’t life grand?

Anyway, Terry knew just where and when to go to find the wild dolphins. Our friend let us borrow her kayaks to get offshore a bit to try. At Terry’s direction, we kayaked out to an empty bay and then, as instructed, mentally called the dolphins to come find us. Sure enough before too long a large pod came to visit. 9 year old Jaime was fearless and absolutely in kid heaven. She jumped out of the kayak and went swimming with the pod. One dolphin singled her out. I can still see the look of total delight on Jaime’s face when she reported that one of the dolphins talked to her! She said the dolphin looked her in the eyes and squeaked. She squeaked back! It was obviously a peak experience for her. Unfortunately, her 6 year old little sister had a peak negative experience, deriving from a fellow kayaker who commented that the bay was teeming with tiny stinging jellyfish. Truthfully, they did sting, but it was very slight and had no lasting ill effect and mostly just felt like tiny bits of sand brushing against you. It was terrifying to a 6 year old, however, and to this day Sanni is petrified of jellyfish . . . .

When I think back to that time (minus the car theft . . . ) I remember especially the amazing time with those dolphins, the warm Hawaii breeze and sitting around a low coffee table hearing a little about life in Sri Lanka and eating fabulous homemade Sri Lankan finger food. Included is the recipe I copied down back then for the Urud Dal pancakes and Sambol condiment.

It’s funny how life comes full circle. Recently we got back in touch with Diane and Charlie and managed to see each other in person. Jay started working for a company in Campbell, CA very close to where Diane and Charlie live in Los Gatos. As serendipity would have it, his travels coincided with Charlie’s 50^th birthday and we got to share in his celebration. As we contemplated what gift to give to our friend whom we hadn’t seen for so long, we decided to peruse old photos from our time together in Los Angeles. I came across a perfect one from a Halloween party long ago. The photo is cute of the two of them and I immediately noticed in the background those beautiful Sri Lankan batiks I mentioned earlier. . .

We had the good chance to stay overnight at Diane and Charlie’s current house–a beautiful storybook house that sits atop the hills of Los Gatos with romantic vines crawling over the back portico, a full vineyard and a to die for panoramic view of the Monterey bay– amazing!! Sri Lankan touches still decorate the house, statues and photos of elephants here and there.

Diane came to visit us recently as well. We put her in the “elephant” room and because I had recently been reminded of their trip to Sri Lanka from my trip down photo album lane, I made Sri Lankan pancakes and coconut Sambol. We swapped stories and reminisced. It was a perfectly easy and relaxing time–almost as if no time had passed at all.

And without further reminiscing, here is one of the simplest most versatile and favorite recipes in my arsenal–wheat free, vegetarian, loaded with protein and delicious!

Sri Lankan Lentil Pancakes

Original recipe My various adaptations

Leftover cooked rice – 1 – 3 cups	Leftover alternate grains – I’ve used Quinoa, brown rice, millet
Urad Dal (white lentils) – 1 ½ cups	Masur Dal (red lentils) – 1 ½ cups
Salt and water
Little bit of rice or wheat flour (optional)	omit
5 – 10 fennel (optional)	omit

This recipe is so simple you won’t believe it – but you do have to have a little patience as it has to sit for at least 12 hours and is better the longer it sits.

· Start with some already cooked rice or other grain.

o I usually do this when I happen to have some leftover from another meal.

o Note: this recipe is very forgiving and in true peasant cooking fashion, I never really measure anything – it is approximately equal amounts of rice and lentils (a little less lentils), but don’t take that too seriously – it seems to work no matter what the ratios . . .

· Put cooked rice in a large bowl and add uncooked lentils.

· Add water to cover and some salt. (You can add more later).

· You don’t have to stir or anything, just let it sit overnight.

· You may have to add more water if the grains and lentil absorb all the water and the mixture looks dry.

· In the morning blend the mixture until smooth – add a little more salt.

· Add a sprinkling of rice flour to the mixture (I often omit this stage and it still works)

· You can go ahead and make pancakes at this point, but it is better if you let it sit for one more day. You can let the batter sit on the counter for several more days – or put it in the refrigerator, if you prefer.

In a large frying pan add a generous amount of oil (I usually use olive oil) pour batter like with pancakes and smooth in a circle to thin the batter a little. Cook this pretty slowly over medium heat – it takes a while, be patient! When brown on one side, flip the pancake over and cook slowly on the other side. We usually serve these with an over easy fried egg on top and often with the coconut sambol recipe (below) on the side. It’s really good with regular salsa and avocadoes too. We usually serve it for breakfast, but it’s equally good and filling for dinner too.

Coconut Sambol

Original recipe My adaptations

Hard coconut pieces (cut into small pieces or grated)	(either use pieces from a fresh coconut or use ready made unsweetened coconut flakes – or unsweetened grated coconut)
Handful of onion chopped
Fresh or dried chiles to taste	I often just add a little cayenne instead
Curry leaves	I often just use curry powder – about 1 -3 tsps
A little water
Optional: shallots, garlic	I usually add salt

Blend all ingredients together and serve in a bowl on the side. This is another very forgiving recipe, perfect peasant style recipe. I don’t think I have ever measured anything. I just throw varying amounts of the above ingredients into a blender and voila! Everyone loves it–just try it!

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Tagged as elephants, lentil pancakes, lentils, Sri Lanka, swimming with dolphins, travel, vegetarian

November 28, 2011 · 11:15 pm

Thanksgiving Memories and Leftovers: Turkey Burritos!

Thanksgiving is one of those holidays where bits and pieces of memories from years past weave their way through my mind creating a rich Thanksgiving tapestry of sorts. So many stories come to mind and whole scenes from different eras in my life and lessons learned.

When I was a young kid, Thanksgiving was not an extended family affair. This was because my parents were both European, and not only was our extended family too far away, they also didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving. My parents, who became US citizens of their own right, were dedicated to all American Holidays, however, and to make the occasion grand they always arranged for a traditional Thanksgiving feast and for us to share the day with family friends.

Thus, even though I am of European descent, my memories of Thanksgiving as a kid include the sound of American football playing on the TV in the background, a bowl of whole nuts next to a roaring fire, and a very traditional feast with Turkey, cornbread, stuffing, rolls, some decadent vegetables/cream/cheese casserole, yams or sweet potatoes and of course mashed potatoes and gravy. My favorite dish was the stuffing – specifically my mom’s version – which she must have had to figure out on her own without the benefit of family tradition . . . the torch got passed, however, and when I first got married and realized we wouldn’t be able to make it home for Thanksgiving, I called my mom to get her recipe. (Below is the well-loved index card where I recorded her recipe.)

The morning was always dedicated to cooking, the afternoon to eating and the balance of the evening to playing games. Pie and a walk generally happened at some point during the evening festivities. In those days, the ultimate goal was to stay up long enough to have a turkey sandwich at midnight!

Beyond the basics of the day, my memories of Thanksgiving also come with thoughts of gratitude and grace. There have been many Thanksgivings where one or another person held us spellbound as they recited their version of grace, or where they shared their grandmother’s favorite grace, or made up their own, or where we all contributed and reflected on what we were thankful for.

But I remember one Thanksgiving learning about another kind of grace too. On this Thanksgiving we had been invited to my Auntie Jeanie’s house (she was a beloved adopted “auntie”). . . and now just thinking of her immediately makes me recall the moment, while she was in the process of dying, that she asked me to speak her eulogy, and me in reflecting on her beautiful life and it’s undeniable impact on me and those around her, summed her life up in two words: “dignity and grace.” Auntie Jeannie was lovely and charming through and through.

On this particular Thanksgiving, as we all sat down to dinner, we became aware that a Thanksgiving Day travesty had occurred: the turkey was burned to an absolute crisp. Auntie Jeannie, however, did not fret for even a second. She never apologized. She never worried about her cooking or what we all might be thinking or what we were going to do without a turkey. She simply put the charcoal black turkey on a beautiful serving platter in the middle of the table and said simply “Oh, it looks bit black”. Not a single additional word was said. And, with that leadership, we all took heed and turned the focus back to each other and the conversation to more interesting topics. There was plenty of other food and we feasted gloriously, turkey or not.

To me this simple act captured the essence of grace. She knew instinctively what was important that day–and the fact that she had burned the turkey was not the most important thing, not even worthy of further comment really. We were, after all, ultimately most grateful to be spending the day together and enjoying each other’s company.

—

Now so many years later, our Thanksgiving feast has had to change to accommodate wheat free, meat free, sugar free dietary constraints. Thus many of the stalwart favorites that seem to be the cornerstones of a Thanksgiving feast are not options–is this a travesty? Not a chance–no matter what ultimately ends up on the table, we get to spend the day together cooking and conversing – what could be better?

Below is our menu from this year’s Thanksgiving feast:

· One small turkey breast (for the non-vegetarians)

· One Quorn Turk’y Roast (a meat-free, non soy product)

· Gluten Free Vegetarian stuffing (see below)

· Mashed Potatoes

· Vegetarian Gravy (Allrecipes.com)

· Red Onion, Orange and Grapefruit salad

· Green Beans with shallots and onions (WholeFoodsmarket.com)

· Sweet Potato and Pistachio Quinoa (Food.com)

· Stevia Sweetened Pumpkin Pie in a nut crust

I don’t plan to write out all the recipes–just the gluten free vegetarian stuffing, (But, if you are interested, feel free to contact me for any of the recipes above) It was a fabulous feast! Old stories were told and new ones were born . . . .

Gluten Free Vegetarian Stuffing:

Mom’s recipe Udi’s Mine

1 lb loose pork sausage – spiced with salt, pepper, nutmeg, sage, poultry seasoning		Omit –see seasonings added below
Prepared spiced bread crumbs (Pepperidge Farms)	1 loaf Udi’s Whole Grain Gluten Free Bread; 1 loaf Udi’s White Sandwich Gluten Free Bread	1 loaf Schar Classic White gluten free bread; ½ loaf gluten free rye bread
2 -3 onions chopped	2 onions chopped	2 onions chopped
Chopped celery (lots)	½ cup chopped celery	1+ cups chopped celery
Homemade chicken broth	1 cup low sodium chicken broth	1 cup vegetable broth
1 egg optional	2 large eggs, lightly beaten	2 eggs, lightly beaten
chopped parsley	½ cup heavy cream	½ cup heavy cream
	¼ cup chopped flat parsley	1 Tbl chopped flat parsley
	3 Tbl chopped fresh sage	3 Tbl chopped fresh sage
	½ cup chopped fennel	1 Tbl ground fennel seed
		Some of mom’s seasonings added to taste: nutmeg, rosemary, thyme
Salt and pepper to taste	Salt and pepper to taste	Salt and pepper to tasteMom’s version: Fry pork then sauté onions in pork fat

·· Mom’s version: Fry pork then sauté onions in pork fat

· Gluten Free version – make bread cubes:

o toast bread and cut into cubes, put in a bowl with parsley sage, salt and pepper

· Vegetarian version: sauté onion in olive oil

· To onion mixture add fennel, celery

· Combine onion mixture with bread crumbs and add eggs, stock, cream and gently toss

· Add any extra seasoning to taste

· Transfer to a buttered shallow baking dish and bake covered for 30 minutes at 325 degrees; to brown cook uncovered for an additional 20 minutes

——-

So Thanksgiving, 2011 has come and gone, but I will leave you with one final postscript and my favorite recipe using Thanksgiving leftovers, which I picked up from my mother-in-law and which has become a tradition in our house too:

Turkey Burritos!

These turkey burritos are no ordinary burritos —no these infamous burritos include all the thanksgiving dinner leftovers:

· mashed potatoes

· turkey (cut into cubes) or Quorn

· stuffing

· green beans or other vegetable casserole

· gravy

· sweet potatoes

· cranberry sauce

· everything! – all mixed up in one big skillet.

After heating and mixing all the leftovers in one big skillet, you wrap it all up in a tortilla (corn or flour) and add a little homemade salsa (tomatoes, onions, and jalapeno) and voila! Yum!!! – McCandless Family Turkey Burrito leftovers — perfect peasant cooking food.

So, take a look in your fridge – are there still Thanksgiving Day leftovers? Forget about Turkey soup – make Turkey Burritos. You will love them.

And last but not least my mom’s stuffing recipe, faithfully recorded and, as I mentioned, showing much love from Thanksgivings past . . .

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Filed under peasant cooking, storytelling, Uncategorized

Tagged as cooking and conversing, family, family time, friendship, thanksgiving dishes, tradition, vegetarian stuffing

November 19, 2011 · 7:43 pm

Lummi Island Holiday, Howard, and Hot and Sour Soup

What would Thanksgiving be without Hot and Sour Soup? Such is the tradition in our family . . .

It’s funny how traditions get started and then how they get maintained. As a family grows, you come to develop your own rituals and quirks. We celebrate birthdays in the morning, for instance, by waking the birthday person up early singing and bearing tea, breakfast in bed and presents. True – it is slightly tormenting – but sweet! Over the years, when the kids were young and we were all living in the same state, we figured out how and where to celebrate different holidays, delegating Thanksgiving to Lummi Island at my in laws up on Lummi Island and Easter to Whidbey Island at my parents. (Were we spoiled or what?!!) Both developed into unique and festive extended family occasions with certain ritual traditions. Hot and Sour Soup on Thanksgiving Eve became one of those cherished traditions.

It was started many years ago by my father-in-law, Howard. Howard had an interesting life, growing up one of 14 kids on a farm in Pennsylvania and ending up on six acres of forest on a tiny island, Lummi Island, in the Pacific Northwest. He made his way on the island as handy man and house remodeler, and was plenty busy taking care of his customers, but he always a few other interests going as well, such as building his own home from the ground up, and he wasn’t afraid to start learning something new. Well into his middle age he took up saxophone, for instance, and for a while studied and grew bonsai trees. Then there was his stint as a volunteer fireman and his hobby for fixing up old cars, which ultimately led to converting an old shed to a complete paint shop and resulted in a gorgeous poppy orange fully converted 1965 mustang.

But the hobby I want to talk about, is the time he decided to learn how cook Chinese food and, in particular, his interest in perfecting Hot and Sour Soup. It all culminated around Thanksgiving one year. This particular year when we arrived on Lummi the evening before as we were inclined to do to prolong the holiday, we were greeted with a steaming bowl of homemade Hot and Sour Soup – oh my was that delicious after our longish drive with young kids!!–peppery hot, in a rich broth with soft bits and crunchy bits and all sorts of new and interesting flavors. It was an instant hit. “How did you make this?” we cried out – “it’s wonderful!”. “Oh it’s no big deal,” he said, pleased that we appreciated it. “You just throw a bunch of ingredients into the pot.” (yum, just my kind of meal!)

And so it came to be that each year as we approached Thanksgiving, we’d beg Howard “Please make Hot and Sour Soup again!!!! We have to have it!!” For truthfully, even though we would always also have a gorgeous traditional Thanksgiving feast – it was our secret favorite part. Thanksgiving Eve had to start with Hot and Sour Soup and then after all the gorging was over, the perfect night cap was a little bowl of Hot and Sour Soup to end it all too.

Howard passed away in August several years ago now (although he still visits me in my dreams from time to time), and I remember as we were approaching Thanksgiving that year, it suddenly dawned on me that he wouldn’t be there to make the Hot and Sour Soup! – a small thing, I know, but somehow important. I realized that this had become a beloved tradition in our family and the baton had to be passed along. If we waited too long, his recipe might be lost.

I called Sandy on the spot and asked her did she know where Howard kept his recipe for Hot and Sour Soup because I wanted to carry on the tradition and make it. She thought she did and hunted through the kitchen announcing she had it along with his notes from his different trials and errors. She started reading and I realized I didn’t even have a paper and pen handy. I grabbed the nearest thing I could find – a bank deposit envelope – and furiously began scribbling as Sandy looked through his books and notes. I ran out of space and had to open the envelope up and keep writing on the other side. Sandy and I cried as we interpreted and copied his notes, but it was a good cry . . .

That year, and every year since, I’ve made Howard’s Hot and Sour Soup–adding a couple touches of my own and now making a vegetarian version too. I keep thinking I should transcribe the notes I took that day – but I can never do it. I love that tear water and food stained bank envelope. It captures perfectly that moment of realizing we had to continue Howard’s tradition and invites me to intentionally pause to remember all the little things about him and about that era when the whole extended family got together – before we got relocated across the country, before the kids grew up and went away to college, before Howard died.

So, as a prelude to some recipes from the rest of our equally unusual Thanksgiving Feast– which this year will be Meat Free, Wheat Free, and Sugar Free . . . I share with you my favorite part of the annual feast:

Howard’s Hot and Sour Thanksgiving Eve Soup

(serves 6 as is – but we usually triple it)

Howard’s version My vegetarian adaptations and notes:

6 cups chicken broth	6 cups vegetable broth
2 – 3” squares of firm tofu (1 package)	Note: cut these in matchsticks
½ lb pork – cut in 1/8” wide strips	Omit
Tofu/Pork marinade:
1 tsp soy sauce	I use wheat free tamari
1 tsp rice wine vinegar
½ tsp cornstarch
¼ tsp dark sesame oil
6 dried Chinese black mushrooms or shiitake	Note: soak these for 15 – 30 minutes in very hot water , drain and shred
10 wood ears	Note: soak these in a different bowl in very hot water, cut off hard edges and shred
	8 Tiger Lily buds ( I add these)
2/3 small can bamboo shoots	Note: drained and slivered
One small can water chestnuts	Note: drained and sliced
Combine:
3 ½ Tbl cornstarch and 7 Tbl water
Combine:
3 Tbl soy sauce	I use wheat free tamari
3 Tbl rice wine vinegar
3 Tbl minced ginger
2 Tbl minced scallions
2 tsp sesame oil
1 tsp pepper (or to taste)	Note: sometimes I use white pepper too
2 large eggs beaten lightly
1 tsp each salt and sugar	(I don’t worry about this much sugar)
2 Tbl rice wine vinegar
Green onions minced for garnish

A note about the ingredients in this recipe. There are really only 3 unusual ingredients in this recipe: chinese black mushrooms or shiitake, wood ears (another mushroom) and Tiger Lily buds all of which you can find at an asian grocery. Tiger Lily’s are the only ingredient that you probably have to go to an oriental grocery store for. Usually you can find the dried black mushrooms or shiitake and the wood ears at a store like Whole Foods. You can make this without the Tiger Lily buds.

You will need several bowls for combining different portions of this recipe.

In bowl #1 combine:

1 tsp soy sauce (tamari)
1 tsp rice wine/vinegar
½ tsp cornstarch
¼ tsp sesame oil
pork slices.
Set aside for 25 minutes

Note: I don’t use pork so I marinade my tofu in this mixture – adding more in the proper ratio if needed

In bowl #2 soak:

6 dried Chinese black mushrooms in very hot water for about 15 minutes, then drain and shred

In bowl #3 soak:

10 wood ear in very hot water – cut off hard edges and shred

In bowl #4 combine:

3 Tbl soy sauce (tamari)
3 Tbl rice wine vinegar
3 Tbl minced ginger
2 Tbl minced scallions
2 tsp sesame oil
1 tsp pepper (you may add more later to taste)

In a large pot bring the following to a boil:

6 cups of broth (you may choose to add more later)
1 tsp each sugar and salt
2 Tbl rice wine vinegar (or a little less)

Add:

Pork mixture
Tofu (cut into matchsticks)
Black Mushrooms, Wood Ear and Tiger Lily buds
Bamboo shoots
Water chestnuts

Bring back to boil then skim off froth and add:

Cornstarch mixture (3 ½ Tbl cornstarch + 7 Tbl water) to large pot

Cook 1 minute to thicken, then remove from heat and add:

2 large beaten eggs by stirring them into the big pot with a chopstick
Soy sauce (tamari) mixture from bowl #4

Taste and determine if more rice vinegar or pepper is needed

—–

And here, capturing my own wabi sabi method for preserving recipes, the bank envelope on which I furiously scribbled Howard’s recipe:

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Filed under family, peasant cooking, storytelling, Uncategorized

Tagged as hot and sour soup, tradition

November 16, 2011 · 7:52 am

Mexican Adventures, Coming Home and Tortilla Soup

The signature recipe at our house has become “Tortilla Soup” and for me it signifies coming home. Just the words alone immediately bring to mind the joy of being surrounded by family and friends. Tortilla Soup has become the recipe we fix every time the kids come home from college, the recipe we choose to greet travelers after a long flight, the one we choose when we want a new friend to feel relaxed and comfortable at our house. It captures, for me, the quintessential essence of peasant cooking at its best–not exactly stone soup, but a kind of “condiment” soup (with all sorts of extras that can be added according to the tastes and desires of the tastee)–and of course there is always the fact that it comes with a Mexican flair!

Mexico comes with somewhat of a bad rap these days, but for not for me. Mexico is near and dear to my heart. I’ve been to Mexico over 20 times and many of them have been wild and wonderful adventures. Making Tortilla Soup for me is an opportunity to choose from a collection of memories (sort of thought condiments) to flavor my day–which ones do I want to taste and smell and remember today?

If I am very relaxed I might remember the summer I met my husband and we drove down to San Carlos and camped on the beach. I learned to spear fish and caught my one and only fish on the first try–mostly to prove I could do it–after that I always seemed to subtly jerk my hand at the last moment and miss . . . I remember that while driving back home on that trip my car broke down in Tijuana and in the space of an instant, I completely panicked, convinced we would never make it back home – we’d become destitute living on the streets of Tijuana – we’d end up in a Tijuana jail (you know how the mind gets going sometimes. . .) Jay said he’d never let that happen; he would make sure we found our way home even if he had to push the car all the way back over the border. I believed him 100% and probably fell in love that day.

I might remember another time, like when we drove from Washington State to the Yucatan Peninsula in an old Toyota truck with an orange wooden canopy – the thing required us to change the spark plugs about every 100 miles and looked so bad even the Mexicans felt sorry for us . . . but we had treasures hidden beneath the scruffy exterior (kind of like we all do) including scuba gear, an air compressor, an inflatable boat and engine. We made our way across the country to “La Playa Mas Bonita Del Mundo” – the most beautiful beach in the world — where we built a hut on the beach from driftwood and palm fronds, and spent days scuba diving and living off our catch. It was paradise . . . until I got barracuda poisoning . . .

In later years, we found ourselves smack dab in the middle of a mid-life crisis and decided to escape what we saw as the rut and rat race of suburban living and move with our four and seven year old girls to a remote fishing village in Mexico, called Yelapa. I always thought living in Yelapa was something like life as described in the Little House on the Prairie books. There were no cars, no phones, no electricity . . . we walked everywhere and our days were divided between walking to the big beach for fun and entertainment – a twenty minute walk away one way– homeschooling, and walking to one of the three tiny little grocery stores to pick up food for that day’s meal – oh and checking for scorpions . . . I could write a book about our experiences living in a Palapa in Yelapa . . . but suffice it to say, it was there we came to fully appreciate Mexican cooking: handmade tortillas picked up fresh from a local woman, young coconuts for drinking pulled right off the tree, papaya sprinkled with lime juice, mangoes, black beans, cheese, cilantro, rice, tomatoes, jalapenos, fresh caught seafood . . . oh Yum!

My Tortilla Soup condiment thoughts can just as easily transport me to the quiet space of a meditation retreat, for we traveled many times to partake in one that took place in an enchanting old hacienda hundreds of years old set in the hills above Taxco. It was essentially a mini village with cobblestone roads, its own church, a swimming pool, multiple impressive stone edifices, mysterious ruins up vine covered trails, and abundant loquat trees–it was pretty much like being on a Harry Potter set–so magical and the people so wonderful and the ashrama so still. Our teacher used to say that the Mexican people were the closest to God and Mexico was the heart of the World.

That is certainly true for me, for it was in Mexico–on a women’s journey led by a toltec shaman and a Mayan priestess and with women from all over the world, that the veil–the one that keeps us from fully experiencing the astonishing sacredness of life–lifted, and I found my way home to my own heart . . .

It was immediately after this sacred journey to the heart in Mexico that we were moved across the country to Chapel Hill, North Carolina and it was there that I learned to make Tortilla Soup. Luckily for me, the heart of Chapel Hill was Whole Foods, which was located a convenient 6 minutes from my house. Whole Foods became the source from which I would try to re-establish a feeling of home for our relocated family, who were all missing the companionship and comfort of extended family and friends.

During this time, I would wander through the aisles of Whole Foods in bliss–all the beautiful vibrant produce seemed to be glowing–and all our food sensitivities were easily accommodated with healthy and interesting options! I loved going to Whole Foods. It became the center of my day. It wasn’t long before I purchased the Whole Foods Cookbook and discovered their recipe for Tortilla Soup. I have copied below the page from the original Whole Foods Cookbook I bought nine years ago. You can see it is a well-loved page. I’ve added a few of my own touches, but not too many. Tortilla Soup has become our family’s comfort food, a symbol of being home, and to this day it regularly graces our table.

—

Well, it seems like it is time to let loose the memories and get on with joy of cooking itself . . . We have an old friend visiting, one that co-incidentally also visited us when we lived in Yelapa. He is a vegan and this recipe is very easy to make vegan.

Today is a Tortilla Soup kind of day . . . (but my daughter warns me another one better be just around the corner because she is coming home next week . . . .)

Tortilla Soup (adapted from the Whole Foods Market Cookbook)

Original Spicy Chicken version: Vegetarian/Vegan substitutes and

other alternatives I use:

1/8 cup canola oil	(I usually use olive oil)
1 medium red pepper, seeded and chopped	Note: I use whatever color peppers I have and often add orange and yellow peppers because it looks pretty
1 medium green pepper, seeded and chopped
1 medium red onion, chopped	Note: I usually use a sweet white onion instead
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tsp dried oregano or 1/8 cup fresh
1 tsp cumin	Note: I always hand grind my whole cumin and add a little extra
¾ tsp chili powder	Note: different chili powders taste different, so experiment to see what you like – I use the one Costco sells
1 jalapeno, chopped and seeded	Leave some seeds in for extra heat
1 can diced canned tomatoes with juice	I use organic canned tomatoes or fresh
4 cups water or chicken broth	4 cups vegetable broth (Note: I always make it with broth and like the organic Pacific brand for both vegetable and Free Range Chicken)
1 -2 organic free range chicken breasts (I cut these up into bite size pieces before putting it in the soup – Note: this is easy to do with frozen breasts)	Omit for vegetarian option
1 (15 ounce) can black beans, drained and rinsed	I use either organic Eden or Goya
2 cups fresh or frozen corn kernels	I use organic frozen usually
½ cup minced cilantro	I serve mine on the side
Salt to taste

The Condiments:

Minced cilantro
Diced ripe avocado
Grated pepper or Monterey jack cheese	Vegan soy or other imitation cheese
Extra jalapenos chopped
Handmade tortillas strips (recipe below)	I buy a stack of the inexpensive Mexican brand sold at local grocery stores
Yoghurt or sour cream

· Heat the oil in a deep dutch oven over medium high heat

· Saute the peppers, onion, garlic, oregano, cumin and chili powder for 3 minute, until the onion is translucent, stirring often.

· Add the jalapeno and tomatoes; continue stirring for one minute

· Add the broth and the chicken pieces

· Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer uncovered for 20 minutes

· Add the black beans and corn and return the soup to a boil, then reduce to low simmer and season with salt.

· Prepare the cilantro, avocado, cheese, jalapeno and yoghurt condiments and place in separate serving bowls for each guest to add to their own soup

· Prepare the handmade tortillas strips (hint– it is key to make your own):

o Take a stack of tortillas about 1 -2 inches high and cut in half; then stack both halves on top of each other and make 1/8 inch wide slices through all layers to make strips

o Cover the bottom of a frying pan with oil;

o Heat the oil over medium heat

o Sprinkle the hand cut strips over the oil; season generously with salt

o Stir and turn the strips until they brown and get little crunchy

o Serve these separately for guests to add to their soup.

—–

And here it is – the well loved page from my Whole Foods Market Cookbook:

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Filed under peasant cooking, storytelling, Uncategorized

Tagged as coming home, family, friendship, gluten free, mexican travel, Mexico, toltec, tortilla soup, vegetarian, Whole foods, women's journey, Yucatan

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