Hongshao Zhurou (China)

Today I'm writing about the recipe I actually made on Christmas two days ago. As a matter of practicality, I try to write about the recipes I make on the day I prepare them, but honestly, I was too blissed out on Hongshao Zhurou, translated as Shanghai ham, some twice-baked potatoes and two giggling boys to sit down and write. So here it is, a couple days past due.

I am still in that post-holiday glow. Christmas day was a stay in our pajamas all day kind of holiday filled with presents and eggnog french toast. And the recipe I chose for our Christmas meal was a traditional one with an international twist. The holiday ham is a stalwart, but I found this Hongshao Zhurou, soaked in fresh ginger, soy sauce, lime and anise stars added just the right amount of zest to give it a new flavor. And it was my favorite type of recipe. Mix a marinade, pour over meat, slow cook to fill the house with savory anticipation.

Now that we're all coming down from our holiday cloud, we'll try hold onto the joy and elation of the season through the cold months ahead. The toys will be played with over the coming year. The clothes will be worn, the gadgets put into use until the novelty wears off and becomes routine.  And the leftovers will be consumed. Tonight it's a ham and brie bake with pears and rye bread. Tomorrow it's split pea soup with the ham bone. The sustenance of the last weeks and days will fortify our relationships, our creativity and purpose. And of course our palates, as we explore and expand our culinary traditions.

Atole de Fruta (Mexico)

This morning at our traditional family brunch of crepes there were many new additions, most notably our precious son Suki, enjoying his first Christmas with our family, and my baby nephew Elijah, who arrived in October. Suki and Ian happily ate crepes and played with their baby cousin in all the corners of Grandma and Grandpa's house. The adults happily drank coffee and told stories and redirected wild boys and passed the baby. Celebrating the season as an extended family with kids is such a joy, keeping the message of Christmas simple. Always love God. Always love each other.

Most often in these days of high consumerism that message has turned into 'always love each other with many, many expensive gifts purchased amid a frenzied mob during middle of the night shopping sprees.' My husband and I are as guilty of this as anyone, carefully amassing piles of brightly wrapped things to entertain and delight our children. But we do try to impress upon our children the message of a baby born to humble parents in humble surroundings. Tonight as we heard the story of Jesus's birth, as my boys carried the figurines of Mary and Joseph down the aisle at church to gentle complete the creche, we were reminded of the message. Always love God.  Always love each other.

Another new addition to our morning brunch was the Atole de Fruta, hot creamy fruit punch, a drink traditionally served during Mexican Christmas posadas. These posadas are a time to remember two humble parents in search of shelter and warmth for the impending birth of their baby. This Mexican tradition involves neighbors and friends moving from house to house, much like Mary and Joseph, but this time they are offered hospitality and welcome, a hot drink, a refreshing and sweet mix of fruit and cream. The heat of the thick drink radiates the message. Always love God. Always love each other.

This small gesture, the passing of a warm mug or bowl or basket, is repeated around the world in unlimited ways, crossing the boundaries of race, religion, ethnicity and more. The message is clear and at the heart of many peoples and places. Reach out to those in need. Share what you have. Embrace the ones you hold dear. Always love God. Always love each other.

Somali cuisine

Today I spent a lot of time thinking about Somalia, the impetus being this blog project, of course, but beyond the recipes, it's a place, a culture that I interact with quite often. We live in a city with one of the highest Somali populations in the US. We live in a community within this city where the cultural impact of the Somali culture is seen at every corner. My first culinary experience of the day began with a morning stop at the local Somali coffee shop.

I don't normally have coffee out, but as it was my first day of winter vacation, I felt like treating myself. Upon entering the shop on Central Avenue, I realized immediately that I was the only white person there. I was the only one speaking English as my primary language. I'd wager I was the only non-Muslim as well, as I was the only woman without a hijab. This does not happen to me very often, not unless I am traveling really, which is a white privilege that is my norm. So I took a moment and scoped the place out, soaking in the uncomfortableness of being different as I read the menu. I ordered my caramel macchiato, thought about buying some samosas, and was on my way.

 Being uncomfortable wasn't necessary a negative experience for me today. It keeps me thinking about my place in the world and the things I still need to know. What I know about Somalia, I've learned from the news, which is primarily negative. As a country that borders Ethiopia, I've learned some about the conflict between the two nations, again a negative situation, and the reverberations of that conflict between the two communities here in our city. But that doesn't stop me from appreciating the resilience of a people pushed from their worn torn nation to start over in the cold north of Minnesota.
And I continue to learn more through food.

Tonight I made two Somali recipes. One is a repeat for this blog, Ambabur Bed, an egg crepe usually eaten during Eid, made from Extending the Table. My mother has made crepes every Christmas since I can remember in one of our family traditions. This year Ian asked if we could bring these Somali crepes to the party, which was wholly welcomed by my mother, a long time member of the global community:) So I made crepes for tomorrow morning brunch. But the food didn't stop there.

Yesterday was Ian's birthday, and from his Granddad and Grandma in Scotland he received a wonderful cookbook, Kids Cook the World (added to my main page!). I told Ian he could pick any recipe he wanted for dinner tonight, and he chose Somali rice with vegetables, a simple dish loaded with veggies and spiced with cinnamon, clove and cardamom. It was delicious. As we cooked Ian and I talked about the difference between the words Somalia and Somali, and read about halal cuisine on the pages preceding the recipe. One of the highlights of this particular book is not only the cultural information that accompanies each recipe, but the pictures of the children cooking the meals. There are many more brown faces that white in its pages, a rarity for my son, who will deal with uncomfortableness at the very least as he maneuvers through the world with his beautiful brown skin.

I'm not done thinking about Somalia by any means as the day winds down. Or my white skin and my son's brown. This is a life long journey that I hope holds many more uncomfortable moments and delicious meals.

Zakin Ridi (Nigeria)

Anticipation is ruling our house these days. The holiday season is upon us, which includes family celebrations in addition to several birthdays that fall the week before and after Christmas. This means presents, late nights with games and laughter, a trip to our favorite Ethiopian restaurant, and an abundance of Good Food!

The boys have a basic understanding of this season. Ian can draw a manger scene with all the notable attendees, while Suki oscillates between shouting "Merry Christmas" and  "Happy Bir-day, Jesus." Both can sing a mean version of Jingle Bells and a lovely Away in a Manger. And of course, they know about presents. While we down play the whole Santa mythology of the season, he sneaks his way in through other kids and relentless advertising.

My own anticipation is percolating as well. As an enthusiastic eater, I have no problem admitting to the joys of holiday eating. As I was making today's recipe, Zakin Ridi, a sesame cookie with just a hint of sweetness, I noticed the Swahili proverb on the bottom of the page in Extending the Table. "Eating is sweet; digging is weariness." Many of my posts reference my own daily 'digging,' the day to day grind of the working parent, but this season is a time for me to let go a little. I'm on vacation the week of Christmas after all. So I have a few more recipes in the works for the holidays (which means a few more blob posts:) that I hope will bring meaning and joy from reaching for new global experiences and traditions to weave into this celebration.

Today's cookie is already a merging of two traditions. The Christmas cookie is a staple of the season as I've come to know it, but I am not a keen cookie baker (despite my cooking adventures), though I won't pass up a sweet treat. We usually make cookies with my mom and the cousins, or John's family, and I take on more of a supervisory role. But today I made these cookies, mainly because the directions said that you could cut them to any shape you like. So I made snowmen, stars, bells, trees, candy canes, and stockings. The second tradition comes from the Nigerian cultural anecdote on the same page of the recipe. In Nigeria, the tradition is to share food on Christmas day with friends and neighbors because "food is a symbol of joyful sharing." Indeed! These cookies are on their way to my mom and stepdad and my coworkers.

One of the delights that comes from this blog is wondering where in the world people are reading this. If you have a tradition that involves sharing food, at any time, not just a holiday, please consider commenting here. The journey to experience a global community can be a shared one! 

Com Chien (Vietnam)

Tonight was the perfect night for a dish thrown together with leftovers, and the Com Chien, fried rice, was perfectly hot, tasty and satisfying for our weary family, still recovering from celebrating Ian's birthday with two back-to-back parties. There was rice, a bowl of peas, a pork chop, the last egg in the house, a quick sauce, and done. Family fed. Early bed.

This busy weekend marked an early birthday for our soon to be five year old with a friends party, family chili dinner, and a Christmas exchange to top it off with John's mom and brother. The first wave of guests were kids from school and daycare, who partied with a room full of balloons and a birthday crown art project.

 But there was one little guy, Yuijin, who was just not about to have any fun. He sat on the stairs in his coat while the other kids worked to bat an entire bag of balloons up into the air. He could not be cajoled to join, though he stoically glued puff balls and pipe cleaners onto his crown for the art project. When it came time for treats, he declared he did not like cake, cookies, pretzels or juice boxes, and laid his head forlornly on the table, crown perched precariously, while the others ate. Finally, when it was time to open gifts, Yuijin simply pulled the Lego kit he brought out of the bag and handed it to Ian.

The party was a success in all other ways measured by the giggles and whooping and popping balloons. Yet I couldn't get little Yuijin out of my mind. What little kid doesn't like balloons and cake and presents? Well, probably a little kid who celebrates his birthday or special days in other ways. I had to shake my head a little over my own ignorance. We try so hard to build cultural awareness for our kids, but fell back on tradition without a second thought with this party.

There isn't much I would change (the party was awesome!) but I would have asked Yuijin what he liked or how he celebrated birthdays. I don't know if I would have been able to accommodate him in that moment, if I could have stirred in another element to the day.  But maybe he would have felt more at ease. I just know that as I encourage my kids to reach out to others and embrace diverse friends, I need to be prepared to walk my own talk.

Cafe con Canela (Mexico)

My cookbook, and the blog subsequently, have been gathering a little dust these last two weeks, so I decided to kick start my weekend with a new recipe, perhaps the easiest one of the in Extending the Table. This morning I started the day as I usually do, with coffee in the kitchen as I fed the boys, but the Cafe con Canela, Mexican Coffee, was a sweet infusion of spice to get me back on track.

I've been bogged down at work lately. The end of the first trimester and the start of the second for the school year wiped me out. The extra grading, intensive teaching days, and new student song and dance leave me falling back on the frozen meals I prepared back in August when I was fresh and rested from a long vacation. And, of course, the ever-so-tempting ease of a prepackaged meal that needs only heat and serve.

So my morning coffee seeped with a little sugar and a cinnamon stick jolts me out of the rut today. It usually doesn't take much to alter the well-tread courses we fall into on occasion. We need the comfort and routine and the falling asleep on the couch of those ruts just for survival's sake. But then we shake off the cobwebs, open the spice drawer, and re-imagine the day as we know it.