Posted on

Working For The Cookie

images-2

I’ve done some arduous things in my life; like memorizing all the points and meridians when I was in acupuncture school; like being a caregiver for my paralyzed mother for two years; like walking through the wilderness with a heavy backpack on, in all kinds of weather, on all kinds of terrains.  All these experiences taught me the same thing:  I can tough it out.

So when my best friend Anna and I sat for a three-day Zen meditation retreat last September, I expected I could handle the long twelve-hour days of sitting, walking and eating in silence.  And, in fact, during the first day of sitting, in between all the thoughts and emotions circulating through my head, there were moments, maybe just seconds, when I experienced an exquisite sense of stillness, a deep emptiness, an unexpected peace.   And there were other moments when I felt a profound sense of widening, as if my own molecules were pushing outward and disappearing into the collective molecular mix of the room.  That’s all really great, really profound, but that’s not all I experienced.

You see, by the end of the first day, when the the twelve hour day was two hours away from being over, I couldn’t get my mind off the tea and cookie that would be served at the closing of the sit.  More specifically, my mind wrapped itself around the cookie as if it was the fortune I had been seeking my whole life.  I just really, really wanted a cookie.  Can you relate?

Indeed, the end of the day did arrive at nine o’clock and I got my cookie, and yes, I enjoyed it immensely. As soon as Anna and I were in the privacy of my car as we began our drive home, I said with total clarity, “Anna, all this work, it’s all about the cookie.  I’m working for the cookie.”   Understanding my irony, she laughed because she also spent the day watching her mind spin out on her own wild preoccupations.

The next morning as we drove to the retreat together, Anna confessed, “I don’t know if I can keep it together today thinking about you working for the cookie. That’s so funny to me.”

The day unfolded precisely as the day before; we cycled through chanting, dharma talks, silent sitting, silent walking, and silent eating.  At dinnertime, Anna and I silently walked by each other with eyes cast down, and both at the same time glanced at the box of cookies on the table. Knowingly, we smiled at each other.  Unbeknownst to me, however; the tea server for the evening had asked Anna to help him serve the cookies at the end of the day.  A few hours later, when it was time for the tea service, which is enacted with a graceful series of bows, teacups raised and lowered, and cookies offered one at a time, I was surprised to see Anna following the tea server with a plate of cookies in her hand. I couldn’t help but smile inwardly, so proud was I of her as she bowed at all the appropriate times with total sincerity and accuracy. You see, Anna was raised in an orthodox Jewish household, but as an adult, she was no observer of any disciplines or traditions, which made her sincerity all the sweeter.

After the tea server bowed to me, I raised my teacup to be filled; afterwards, both the tea server and I bowed to each other once again.  Anna followed right behind and bent down, offering me a cookie with all the ritual correctness she could muster, and even though she said not a word, I could hear her saying to me telepathically, “Here’s your cookie, Joycie!” In the next moment, we both burst out laughing, not in light chuckles or even suppressed giggles; no, we lost all control. Tears streamed down our faces, our noses dripped, and when we tried to hold it back, we erupted all over again into spasms of laughter.

Through all the years of our friendship, we have had many gut busting crackups, but always in our own company, and never in the middle of a collectively maintained shrine of stillness. While we were in the middle of our own Lucille Ball skit, the others in the room sat silent as stones patiently waiting for us to calm down.  Eventually we did quiet down, but not without spurting out a series of last laughs. It was the ultimate inside joke.

The next day, I asked the teacher, “So, what is the cookie?  What am I really working for?”  He answered, “To know your true nature.”  Oh, right.

Tomorrow I’ll begin four-day sit.  I’m really looking forward to the cookies!

 

Posted on

Miso Soup Recipe

DSC05896

During the winter, chickpea miso soup is my comfort food.  It’s my Asian style version of chicken soup with its light, yellow, salty broth. Because miso is fermented, it delivers beneficial bacteria and enzymes, which aids in digestion, strengthens immunity and increases vitamins – B12, B2, K and E, amongst other benefits like cancer prevention. I never seem to drink enough fluids in the colder months so miso is one of my primary hydration allies when I have a bowl for lunch and before dinner.

The traditional Japanese way to make miso is to simmer wakame seaweed before dissolving the miso paste and then adding little cubes of tofu and scallions. Margaret (or better known as Marge in my blogs) introduced me to a non-traditional, but equally delicious method, of adding a variety of raw vegetables into the miso broth. Chinese medicine dietary advice counsels against eating too many raw foods, especially in the winter, because it can generate dampness in the body; however, adding grated ginger and red chili pepper sauce balances the raw vegetables perfectly. I use a mandoline called benriner cook help slicer to make spiraling thin slices of root vegetables, which resemble transparent rice noodles.

For the last year, I have been making my own chickpea miso, which is made by fermenting a mixture of garbanzo beans, salt and koji with a fungus Asperigillus oryzae.  It’s simple to make and I will share the details in a future post, but you can also buy unpasteurized miso at all health food stores.

Miso Soup Recipe

Heat water to near the point of boiling but not quite because boiling water will kill the bacteria and enzymes in miso.  Put a ½ cup or so of water into a bowl, add two tablespoons of miso, and using the bottom of a tablespoon, dissolve the paste into the water.  Add grated ginger.

Add thinly sliced vegetables of your choice. My selections include: cabbage, radish, sprouts, peppers, celery, shredded turnips, dried tomatoes and mushrooms.

For a hot and sour miso soup, I add sauerkraut and 1 tsp. of red chili pepper sauce.

Depending on the saltiness of your miso, add salt or soy sauce.

 

 

 

Posted on

Tea Time

DSC06041

Yesterday, my friend and neighbor, Jackie, knocked on my door to drop off a little bag of Souchong tea.  The day before she sat at my kitchen counter drinking ginger green tea while we shared very wifey topics like roasted chicken recipes and kitchen remodeling ideas; she also listened to me make a vow to use up and/or throw away all the packaged tea in my cabinet before committing to a very few selections of loose herbal and black tea.  In turn, she made some black tea recommendations, and generously followed up by giving me this sample to try.

Our conversation about tea went something like this:

Me:  “I’m sick of looking at tea bags at the bottom of cups – they’re so ugly – like afterbirth.”

Jackie: “Yeah, they kind of look like an herbal tampon.”

Aesthetics is part of the reason I want to make this change. Saving space is another. Probably the most important reason is because my cabinet of teas has become one of those messy bulging avoidant areas, usually found behind doors or in drawers, which has become dreadfully stagnant. I’m not sure why I’ve had such a block to throwing out those 3” by 5” boxes, which neither I, nor my guests, ever choose.  Maybe it’s because all those colorful boxes give the illusion of having choices, and I’ve been choosing illusion over reality.

DSC06045

As I write this post, I am sipping on the Souchong tea and it’s good, I guess. I have to admit: I’m not very discerning when it comes to tea. If a tea has a medicinal benefit then I usually can convince myself to like it but I’ve never had strong preferences based on taste alone.  I know I don’t like fruity teas but beyond that I couldn’t even pretend to have an opinion on a tea’s qualities, never mind its aroma.  Which is probably why I have been buying packaged tea.  And I must admit the teas I buy are usually geared towards what’s on sale versus its ingredients.

As I begin the gradual emptying of my tea cabinet, I’ll also have to ready myself for filling the void. Probably the only way for me to feel more connected to my teas is if I actually grow, harvest and store the leaves and flowers in glass canisters of my choosing.  That’s a lot of work.  And so is cleaning out a teapot every day. But that’s how I roll. I suspect my lack of involvement in my tea collection has kept me indifferent and distant all along.

A few years ago, my friend Lizzie actually gave me the tea plant, Camellia Sinensis, which grows well in the Pacific Northwest, but I wasn’t ready for it then and sadly, it didn’t survive.  I’ll have to try growing it again, and perhaps start foraging for other tea ingredients, but in the meantime, come on over for tea.  Right now, I have quite a selection!

Posted on

Doggie Daily Self-Cure

Screen shot 2013-01-13 at 5.04.04 PM

When Craig comes home from work, he opens the door, and before greeting me, he first gives attention to our beloved companion dog, Golda, who awaits him every day. After setting down his shoulder bag he puts on a rubber dog-grooming glove, and with all the care of a skilled masseuse he gives her a vigorous skin brushing. The glove is dimpled, similar to those old-style doormats that are emblazoned with the word “welcome. Should Craig be distracted momentarily from this duty when he arrives home, Golda follows him around the house, nudging him with her nose as a gentle reminder that he has a job to do. When he gets down on the floor with her, he makes sure to brush not just her torso but each armpit and leg too.

It’s this act of doggie daily self-cure (and her daily raw chicken liver with kibble) that I believe has kept our arthritic Golda on her paws.  It’s also an act of daily self-cure I personally  partake in because in both humans and animals alike, skin brushing stimulates blood and lymphatic circulation. For an old dog like Golda who is no longer active, and cannot scratch or self-groom, this kind of friction massage is very therapeutic.

In all the seventeen years she has lived with us, veterinarian visits have been very few and far between. Now, besides diminished hearing and vision, her back legs sometimes fail her when she mounts steps and she often struggles when both getting down and rising from the oak floors so we occassionally give her a lift.  Our old gal has had a few fast growing growths that were removed from her paws and larger undiagnosed tumors remain in her abdomen.  She sleeps for most of the day, but still looks forward to her daily walks, two bowel movements, supper, and of course, skin brushing.

A few months ago, after Craig built a ramp so she could still get in and out of the dog door on her own, we knew we were entering into doggie end-of-life care. Our Golda, even in her old age, is still a beautiful and serene creature.  Through the years, we have covered a lot of ground, and gone the distance – together.  Her comfort is our comfort.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted on

Massaged Raw Kale Salad Recipe

DSC06036

Yeah, it happened to me too at the end of the year-I couldn’t resist eating the homemade goodies that arrived in little cellophane gift bags tied with pretty ribbons.  Full disclosure: I could resist most cookies but not the homemade almond roca or the toffee.  So, as the New Year begins, I am sharing my antidote for replacing the sweet taste that might still be clinging to your palate, and derailing your healthy food choices too.

At Parsley Farm, lacinato kale, or commonly referred to as dinosaur kale, is our primary winter food crop.  All the cruciferous vegetables grow well in the Pacific Northwest climate, but kale, in particular, seems to thrive. And if it thrives, we thrive.  Unlike cabbage, broccoli or Brussels sprouts, which mature for a one-time harvest, kale, a plant that keeps on giving throughout the seasons, will continue to generate growth when some of its leaves are picked as it develops. If you start your plants in the spring, by fall they will mature into big leafy plants, mighty manufacturers of nutrient dense nutrition for picking throughout the winter.

Kale is a medicinal money tree as far as I’m concerned.  With many large plants growing in my garden, I feel rich. In Chinese medicine, we view kale as slightly bitter which benefits the liver and heart.  All dark green vegetables nourish the blood, but kale also has a detoxifying effect, which can be helpful for anyone with cancer thus my strong attraction to this plant. It is also helpful for lowering cholesterol.  Besides being rich in vitamins such as Vit A, C and K, it is also a good source of iron, magnesium and calcium.

Massaging raw kale is my favorite way to prepare it because by manually breaking down the cell walls, we render it into a tender, digestible and delicious dish.  The shiny deep dark green leaves seem to transform into something more akin to seaweed with all the nutrient richness of chlorophyll coming to the surface, but with none of the fishy taste. Below is my basic recipe because I like the simple, clean taste of the kale itself with a little red onion, but it can be fancied up with red pepper, olives or sprouts, or whatever else you might imagine.

Parsley Farm

Massaged Raw Kale Salad

Ingredients

1 bunch kale

1 – 2 tbsp balsamic vinegar (or, any other acid: ½ lemon or lime; rice vinegar, apple cider vinegar)

1/8 cup extra-virgin olive oil

2 pinches of sea salt (adjust to taste)

¼ cup red onion sliced thinly

First, cut the stems out of the kale.

DSC06026

Roll up a few de-stemmed leaves at a time and then slice them into narrow bite size pieces.

DSC06031

Put all of the sliced kale into a bowl, add 2 pinches of salt and drizzle olive oil over the greens.  After washing your hands, massage the kale with your hands for 2 -3 minutes until they soften and wilt, and become visibly darker.  Add your vinegar and stir.  Add sliced red onion, and any other additions such as red pepper, olives or sprouts.  Toss, serve, and eat ALLOT.