Grasmere Ginger Bars (England)

It's Leap Day! I'm not sure if one is supposed to wish a happy day for this day, but it certainly deserves an exclamation mark at the very least. Today is the day that brings balance to the calendars by acknowledging those pesky extra hours that hang out there in our solar system. Or something like that;)

Today certainly brought some balance to my own life in the form of a very rare occurrence, rarer than even every four years. A SNOW DAY! Yes, the district I work for called off school for all students and staff. That never happens! Last year it snowed 20 inches on a Saturday night, and I was back to work Monday morning as if nothing happened. This is a treat. And what is even more spectacular, the district we live in did NOT call a snow day, so I sent my family off to work/school/daycare and have been finding some personal balance by resting and restoring a bit of myself in the blessed quiet of my own home.

This is easily the craziest time of year for me with work and coaching demands on top of parenting and family demands on top of life's general chaos. It's the end of the trimester. It's doctors' appointments. It's planning a spring break trip. It's tournament time. But today I could take a breath, relax, slow down, lounge a bit, and just have some time to myself.

 Even the way I spent my day was a balancing act of sorts. For the first few hours I lay in bed reading a guilty pleasure novel in my jammies with coffee. No music, no noise, just quiet. I eventually roused myself to get dressed for the day. I worked on my writing project, which hasn't even taken a back seat lately, but was left at the curb at some unknown location to gather dust. It felt good to jot down several hundred words. I sat for a solid hour, with soft music and hot tea, and jumped right back into the dystopia I've had so much fun bringing to life on the page.

And of course, I had to throw in a recipe for today. I paged through the book and back, considered something complicated with my extra time. That idea was squashed pretty quickly. Instead I made some simple Grasmere Ginger Bars, a bar that balances the health of whole wheat flour and the decadence of lots and lots of flour. Just a bit crispier and thinner than traditional gingerbread, these are yummy.

I'm hoping I don't have to wait four years for another opportunity like this!!!

Shepherd's Pie (United Kingdom)

Shepherd's Pie is one of those dishes I love, but usually reserve for the occasional meal at a restaurant or for when I visit with my dad and stepmother, who live overseas. Whenever we visit, here or there, we meal plan with them, and they graciously cook for us. The pie is one of our 'requests,' one of those comforting recipes that needs my dad's (or stepmother Lindsay's) magic touch.  This along with mac & cheese with sausage,  banana bread, and homemade pizza among many others.

Shortly after my father had moved overseas, he gave my brothers and I a cookbook he had made of all the recipes he had made for us growing up. It has a picture of him on the front and is titled Dad's Comfort Food Recipes. My favorite is the chicken soup. The book includes some 'keys' to cooking as well, including a nugget of wisdom connected to the spaghetti recipe that some recipes are labor intensive, but more satisfying in the end. The Shepherd Pie fell into that intensive category, but was so worth it!

In my last post I wrote about how tired I was over a recent spate of intense racial moments during the week. I was going to take the weekend off, wall myself away from it all, but it didn't quite work that way. Insensitive and racist remarks about Jeremy Lin, as well as racist images connected to a campaign in our state to isolate the disenfranchised with voter id  requirements, made the news and I chose not to change the channel, chose not to look away.

There is no break from the onslaught of ignorance and bigotry and hate in the world. I've taken my head out of the sand of white privilege and it is intense. But I learn so much by staring it down, writing the letters, reporting the nonsense, and even just sharing the story. It is work. There is a process. There are messes to clean up, some of which I make myself. Sometimes it doesn't turn out the way I thought, hoped, prayed.  But I have the comfort of my family, near and far, and the lessons I've learned that I wish to instill in my boys.

Kuy Tew Cha (Cambodia)

I like the simple things in life. Like this week's recipe Kuy Tew Cha, noodles with broccoli and meat from Cambodia. The recipe is in the name, with a little soy sauce, garlic and sugar. Hot and delicious, it filled us up and made for tasty leftovers.

Simple is rare these days, especially when it comes to matters of equity and diversity. This week I found myself inundated with ignorance, racial profiling, stereotypes and dismissiveness. And it really sucked. The details get messy and are many, but by mid-week I found myself drained, vulnerable and crabby. Why can't it be easier? Why can't people be more open minded? Why do retailers think the world wants drivel? Why? Why? Why?

Okay, so I've indulged in my little tantrum. Now I have to remind myself that not everyone is on the same journey as I am. As I put it to my colleagues, some people are still in bed asleep to the fact that there is a journey to be taken. That there is world out there beyond our own backyards that is rich and vibrant and life affirming. What matters is that I have many more fabulous people in my life who "get it" and travel along with me. My family, my friends in work or parenting or history who champion me and teach me in equal parts.

This weekend I'll be cocooning a bit, healing, recovering, but then I'll get back on the road. Take a few simple steps to get me started again. The journey is too important to delay for long.

Banana Oatmeal Cookies (Jamaica)

Another lazy Sunday for the family today. Ian requested early on that we stay in our pajamas all day, a request easy enough to fulfill:) It was a day that called for cookies, so this morning the boys and I made a batch of Banana Oatmeal Cookies from Jamaica. Cooking with my boys was fun and took a long time and was a little messy and at the end we all had cookies to enjoy.

Something we worked on as the recipe came together were the basics of sharing;  inhabiting the same space, taking turns, reaching out to others.  The boys took turns adding the ingredients, mashing the bananas, and stirring the batter. They even shared the same stool in the primo location next to the baking cupboard. After the cookies were made, I told them I would be taking some to share at work, and Ian wished he could take some to share at school. No one complained or whined or pouted about working together. It was a nice reminder for how to maintain the life-long practice of sharing.

Just hours later I made a trip to the grocery store, and tried to live the lessons I teach the boys. I grabbed a few items for the food shelf, and when it came time to check out, offered my spot in an open lane to another woman, older and frail, who was struggling with her cart. She was with another woman who had her hands full of soup cups and couldn't really help her with the cart As I moved into the line in the next lane, giving her my spot, a young guy cut her off with his cart, rushing to get her spot. I was so appalled! My mouth hung open at the back of the line in the other lane. I had a little moment of eye contact with the cashier where we shook our heads, but otherwise the guy paid for his groceries and left.

I'm pretty sure that guy was not rushing off to perform brain surgery, so why make the choice to disregard a moment to share a little time and space? I never want my boys to behave like that guy. I want them to be kind and compassionate and aware of the needs of others, including the anonymous lady at the grocery store. I know that they aren't perfect, and I certainly am not either, but being selfish is easy. Sharing sometimes takes a little sacrifice, but it can be really fun, too, and end with delicious banana cookies.

Frijoles Volteados (Guatemala)

Usually when I write a post about a recipe, I include the name of the recipe in its language of origin, and then I include the English translation. For example, tonight I made Frijoles Volteados, refried beans. Extending the Table includes both of these names along with a phonetic pronunciation. When I make a recipe for my family, I give them both names, and usually the boys have fun working out how to say these wonderful new words.

Language is important. Names are important. My own children have four names. They have retained the names given to them at birth combined with a name John and I have chosen for them (though that combo differs in order from boy to boy), and we all share a last name. The names of our children are full of hope and promise and belonging, gifts from all the family that loves them so dearly.

I've been thinking about names this week. I recently went to a speech tournament where the names of the participants were not fully honored. They were mispronounced, skipped over, and singled out for attention. This is a edited portion of the letter I wrote to the coach in charge of the event:

"I did want to mention something I have been struggling with about the awards ceremony. I noticed that for many of the students with names that were difficult to pronounce, a lot of attention was brought to that fact as you and your assistant called them forward. There were several comments like “I’m never gonna get this one right,” “This is a really hard one to say” and “I’m not even gonna try this one.” Usually these statements were accompanied by laughter on your part.

Unfortunately, one of my students was one of those students. When she was called up to receive her recognition, you said “—I’m not gonna even try this one.” So not only was she not fully recognized a competitor who did exceedingly well, the moment became about the announcer rather than her. This was extremely hurtful and took away from the celebration of her showing. It was also embarrassing for her.

One of the aspects of speech that I love is the diversity of the students that participate in the competition. Each one brings unique talents and perspectives to the pieces. Often what they put into a piece is a reflection of their own interests and experiences. This diversity is something that can be embraced in all aspects of a tournament, including the awards.

I hope that by bringing this to your attention and offering feedback, it gives you the opportunity to reflect on the situation and maybe consider some alternatives for your next event. All of our students deserve the recognition they receive as the wonderful, unique individuals they are!"

 

I felt for the coach who was in a difficult position. But I also felt for all those students who couldn't advocate for themselves in a very public moment. Yet I received a very gracious response from the coach, who apologized and acknowledged the opportunity to make a positive change. She pointed out the irony of the situation, in good humor, that even as speech coaches, we need to remember the power of words.

Menotse Inhino (United States)

So today, Superbowl Sunday, is the second biggest eating day of the year in the United States after Thanksgiving Day. The average American will eat over 1200 calories in just snack food before getting to the pizza, chili or other main dish. Over the years we have done our fair share of eating at Superbowl parties, but today we kept it simple. Oh, we indulged in some pizza, but that was more out of convenience than anything else. It just gets harder to justify gorging ourselves on junk food and empty calories for a game we don't really care about in a world in which others, our neighbors far and wide, go without.

What I did make tonight was simple food to the extreme. A wild fruit pudding, Menotse Inhino, is a recipe from the Cheyenne people of America. It is simply dried fruits; I chose apples, prunes, apricots and berries, which are simmered in water, then thickened with a little cornstarch. The recipe gave sugar as an option, but I left it out, preferring the pure sweetness of the fruit. We all ate a warm spoonful tonight, and in the morning will stir the pudding into our oatmeal for a hearty breakfast.

Sometimes the food we eat can be a cleansing experience. I'd like to think this recipe will cleanse my soul of a little of the consumerism that takes over my nation for a football game. I'd like the warm fruit melting into spiced oats to remind me that while advertisers spent 3.5 million dollars for 30 seconds of airtime during the game, a family down my city street street, in the suburbs, on the reservation, went hungry and I have to work harder. To reach out one more time, to offer one more meal or hour or dollar towards fighting world hunger. That tomorrow is a new day, but the mission doesn't change.

Now you can be reminded, too.