The dinner conversation at out house the last two nights has centered around the garden. Yes, spring is upon us, and it is time to start planning for which veggies and fruits we're going to put into the backyard plot. We're developing our vegetable wish list, thinking about what we could can, freeze and eat off the vine. We're adding fruit trees and vines to our slice of urban agriculture, thinking of the jams, pies and juice in days ahead.
Admittedly, it is still very, very early for planning given that we shouldn't plant anything until at least May 15th in our growing zone, and the rule of 'green' thumb seems to be to wait until after Memorial Day. But the weather has us planting the seeds of our imagined garden, even if we must wait to dig our hands into the dirt.
Our garden is certainly a family project. At this stage, we are all envisioning fresh lettuce, tomatoes and cucumbers in a few short months, while imagining the possibilities of adding perhaps sweet potatoes or asparagus to the plot. I take on the role of garden manager, planting, weeding and maintaining the plants. John is the heavy lifter and is always up for a run to Home Depot or a quick round of weeding. And the boys are my best little pickers, enthusiastically monitoring the growth of the plants until they are perfectly ripe and ready for the table.
Right now spring is invigorating our family. The fresh air is spurring us on to sneak in bike rides, afternoon walks, and quick runs to the daily routine. We're planning our backyard life of gardening, sandbox adventures, and sidewalk chalk of the months ahead. The fresh air spurred me on to look past the leftovers tonight and make a batch of Rempeyek Udang, giving me a little burst of energy to fry shrimp cakes with celery, onion and a bit a red pepper.
More importantly, we're breathing in the possibilities of new experiences, new recipes and new life even as reinforce the bonds of our family by working together on a garden the reflects the shared joy we have in refrigerator pickles, rhubarb cake, and garden salsa.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Kik and Tibs (Ethiopia)
I have this little habit. Every time I have a conversation with someone about Ethiopian food, I have to then go out and eat some, soon, or I am overwhelmed with a craving for injera and wat. The problem is that I have conversations about Ethiopian food all the time. And as much as I would like to eat several meals a month (or week) at my fav ET restaurant, Fasika, in St. Paul, the budget doesn't support that. So I've had to learn how to make it myself.
Just a few days ago, I was at an Ethiopian Kids Community (EKC) meeting to plan this year's Mehaber, our annual picnic of adoptive families who love Ethiopia. It's gotten so big that for the last few years, we've held it at the State Fair grounds. This is my third year on the committee and my first year serving on the EKC board. We started our meeting with introducing ourselves and sharing about our favorite Ethiopian food. My two favorites are Kik, mild yellow lentils, and Beef Tibs, cubed beef in berbere sauce.
Today, three days later, I made them, and while the recipes I used didn't come from Extending the Table, the dishes turned out quite delicious. What I actually did was go online, look up a couple recipes, and merge them together into my own version of the dish. Butter, onions, ginger, garlic, and peppers make a flavorful base for both dishes, which are scooped up with bits of injera. I admit to just buying the injera at a local shop. Lentils and beef I can handle. Fermented teff, not so much.
Tonight we had an Ethiopian meal, but it lead to listening to a ET cd, doing our family version of shoulder dancing, and discussing over our meal what various words in Amharic mean. We took pieces of the culture and made them our own in way that is authentic for our family. And the more that we have these moments, the easier it is to realize that we crave the rich, unique flavors of Ethiopian culture in our lives always.
Just a few days ago, I was at an Ethiopian Kids Community (EKC) meeting to plan this year's Mehaber, our annual picnic of adoptive families who love Ethiopia. It's gotten so big that for the last few years, we've held it at the State Fair grounds. This is my third year on the committee and my first year serving on the EKC board. We started our meeting with introducing ourselves and sharing about our favorite Ethiopian food. My two favorites are Kik, mild yellow lentils, and Beef Tibs, cubed beef in berbere sauce.
Today, three days later, I made them, and while the recipes I used didn't come from Extending the Table, the dishes turned out quite delicious. What I actually did was go online, look up a couple recipes, and merge them together into my own version of the dish. Butter, onions, ginger, garlic, and peppers make a flavorful base for both dishes, which are scooped up with bits of injera. I admit to just buying the injera at a local shop. Lentils and beef I can handle. Fermented teff, not so much.
Tonight we had an Ethiopian meal, but it lead to listening to a ET cd, doing our family version of shoulder dancing, and discussing over our meal what various words in Amharic mean. We took pieces of the culture and made them our own in way that is authentic for our family. And the more that we have these moments, the easier it is to realize that we crave the rich, unique flavors of Ethiopian culture in our lives always.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Thinking About Trayvon
Every time I've heard the name Trayvon Martin over the last several days my eyes have filled with tears. And I've really struggled with how to put into words my reaction and response to the tragic death of this young man, so I've avoided posting, writing or even talking about the situation. But it has weighed heavily on my heart.
In an alternate life, it would be easy to turn off the news, avoid the newspapers, tune out the debacle playing out in Florida. But that will never be a luxury that I can indulge. Not as a parent raising a young, black man in America. It should not be an option for any person to ignore what happened to Trayvon. In the United States of America. In 2012.
Today President Obama said that if he had a son, that son would look like Trayvon Martin.
I do have a son, and he does look like Trayvon Martin.
My beautiful, brown son, Ian Tariku, makes the world a better place for being in it. He loves super heroes and dancing and Hot Wheels. Today we read comic books curled in a chair together, played a rousing game of hide and seek, and discussed his need to eat five servings of fruits and vegetables every day. This week he practiced the letter D and the number 8 at school, and I signed his field trip form for the petting zoo. He's getting his hair cut tomorrow, just like Levi, another brown boy from school.
Ian's favorite person in the world is his little brother, with whom he builds elaborate traps for alligators. Just a few days ago he told me that he doesn't care about his birthday this year, just July, when he gets to go visit his Grandma Susie again. He's taking swimming lessons, and recently proved to be a switch hitter in tee ball. Tonight he cracked me up by making one of his bad guy figurines dance a swivel hipped combo and revealing the villain's super power to be the ability to pass noxious gas from his rear end, sound effects and all.
My son is so smart and funny and tender and loving. When he came into our lives as a tiny little survivor, we promised to keep him healthy and educated and safe with the same love and devotion of his first family. It should be unthinkable that such ignorance and injustice exists in the same bright world as Ian that would threaten the promise of his future. His and Levi's and Trayvon's and any other brown child who happens to cross paths with the wrong combination of suspicion and arrogance and weaponry.
I'm sad to live in a world without Trayvon Martin. It is incomprehensible to consider a world without Ian. The world is a better place because he is in it. I hope the world can learn from the tragedy of Trayvon and become a better place in his memory. But what's more, I hope that we as concerned and terrified parents, friends, and citizens will refuse to let the world forget that until injustice is erased for good, no one is safe, especially our most precious children.
That is my fervent hope. For my son. And yours.
In an alternate life, it would be easy to turn off the news, avoid the newspapers, tune out the debacle playing out in Florida. But that will never be a luxury that I can indulge. Not as a parent raising a young, black man in America. It should not be an option for any person to ignore what happened to Trayvon. In the United States of America. In 2012.
Today President Obama said that if he had a son, that son would look like Trayvon Martin.
I do have a son, and he does look like Trayvon Martin.
My beautiful, brown son, Ian Tariku, makes the world a better place for being in it. He loves super heroes and dancing and Hot Wheels. Today we read comic books curled in a chair together, played a rousing game of hide and seek, and discussed his need to eat five servings of fruits and vegetables every day. This week he practiced the letter D and the number 8 at school, and I signed his field trip form for the petting zoo. He's getting his hair cut tomorrow, just like Levi, another brown boy from school.
Ian's favorite person in the world is his little brother, with whom he builds elaborate traps for alligators. Just a few days ago he told me that he doesn't care about his birthday this year, just July, when he gets to go visit his Grandma Susie again. He's taking swimming lessons, and recently proved to be a switch hitter in tee ball. Tonight he cracked me up by making one of his bad guy figurines dance a swivel hipped combo and revealing the villain's super power to be the ability to pass noxious gas from his rear end, sound effects and all.
My son is so smart and funny and tender and loving. When he came into our lives as a tiny little survivor, we promised to keep him healthy and educated and safe with the same love and devotion of his first family. It should be unthinkable that such ignorance and injustice exists in the same bright world as Ian that would threaten the promise of his future. His and Levi's and Trayvon's and any other brown child who happens to cross paths with the wrong combination of suspicion and arrogance and weaponry.
I'm sad to live in a world without Trayvon Martin. It is incomprehensible to consider a world without Ian. The world is a better place because he is in it. I hope the world can learn from the tragedy of Trayvon and become a better place in his memory. But what's more, I hope that we as concerned and terrified parents, friends, and citizens will refuse to let the world forget that until injustice is erased for good, no one is safe, especially our most precious children.
That is my fervent hope. For my son. And yours.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Huasheng Rouding (China)
Usually I write about my cultural journey with my family in this blog, but today I am going to write about the literal journey that my family just took, which explains in part my recent absence from posting. This was a big deal for us, given it would be the first time we spent a night, let alone five, away from home since our youngest came home. We've worked so hard in the last ten months to become the family we are today, but are still in the process of working through trauma, bonding, and emotional well-being. This trip was a test for us, and we did very well.
As with most adventures, getting there is half the battle. We left town for five nights to drive to Cincinnati and visit John's family and introduce them to Suki. The drive itself is about 13 hours one way. We stopped half way there to spend the night, but drove straight home in one day coming back. Here are the highlights, insights, and little know trivia about the family from that drive:
As with most adventures, getting there is half the battle. We left town for five nights to drive to Cincinnati and visit John's family and introduce them to Suki. The drive itself is about 13 hours one way. We stopped half way there to spend the night, but drove straight home in one day coming back. Here are the highlights, insights, and little know trivia about the family from that drive:
- My children are amazing travelers! They spent 12 hours in the car on our drive to Cincinnati (and 12 hours back), and never complained, whined, or even asked when we would get there.
- One should never realize that their driver's license is three weeks expired as they are pulling our of the driveway. If this occurs, one's wife (me), will advise not to get caught because said wife is still not going to drive.
- When travelling for the first time with a child who has lived three quarters of his life in survival mode, he will find a way to protect his new found happiness, even if he is relatively secure in and excited about the trip. Thus, every time I turned around, did I find Suki with a toy that he had secreted away, just in case. The treasures he chose to bring: an Incredible Hulk mask, a toy cell phone, Mistletoe the stuffed Christmas cat, and a recent art project.
- Suki now measures all yucky things in the world against a peanut he tried to touch on the floor of a public men's restroom, yelling things like "PU Peanut!" when he now encounters something gross, like a stinky skunk roadkill smell as it permeates the car. His father's reaction to his reach was what cemented that into place.
- Every time we enter the state of Illinois we boo because due to some unfortunate and now rather hysterical reasons, my husband, the kindest, most just, most law abiding man I know, may not drive in the state. In Wisconsin, Indiana, and Ohio, he's still good.
- It is never a good thing to mistake a 2 tsp dose of cough syrup for 2 TBSP. One will spend all of Indiana and most of Illinois incredibly ill and out of it, though the coughing will stop.
- Oreo cookies, Matchbox cars, Superhero Squad books, and The Avengers cartoon series will keep children occupied for a ridiculously long time.
- Twelve hours is totally worth it for the memories of cousins riding bikes, playing house, making art projects, and giggling uncontrollably over lunch around Grandma's table.
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