The celebration of Saturday Mornings

Most Saturday mornings, my kids do a little celebratory dance.

There are all the reasons you would expect from any 6 and 8 year old - no school! Cartoons all morning! Sit around in our pj's till noon (or in the case of my children, their underwear)! Mom and dad not nagging us to hurry up and put on your shoes,brush teeth and get your backpack ready or you'll be late for school routine.

But in our house, the main reason for the dance is gastronomic - challah French toast.

At about 7:00 am rather than hearing the week-day alarm clock, I hear whining for French toast. My first evasive maneuver – keep eyes closed and roll over – buys me about 5 minutes of peace. For another 30 minutes my kids and I are locked in a game of role-reversal with them pushing me to get out of bed while I pretend they don’t exist. They always win because let’s face it, high-pitched whining in your ear after a long week at work is about as pleasant as enduring the voices of the Chipmunks and Smurfs ... in the same cartoon at full volume ... with a hangover.

I think French toast is rooted as a Saturday morning tradition in our family because it’s a carry-over from our Sabbath meal the night before. Since dinner is kicked off with a braided loaf of buttery, golden brown and slightly sweet challah, it seems only fitting that our Saturday start in the same way. It’s like having that last morsel of velvety rich chocolate cake that lingers in the memory of your taste buds for hours.

After several years of using my kids’ reaction to the most recent experimental recipe, I think I have developed the perfect one. Or, at least the one that leaves them asking for seconds. And, although I’m usually only feeding 2 kiddos, I buy an extra loaf of challah to make for French toast putting any leftovers in the fridge. Throughout the week, we heat up 2 or 3 pieces in the microwave, cut them into strips and put the strips in a little plastic cup. We then have the perfect home-made fast food breakfast that the kids eat on their way to school (without syrup).

Challah French Toast

4 eggs

½ c. 2% milk

½ c heavy whip cream (or half and half)

¼ tsp nutmeg

¼ tsp cinnamon

1 tbsp vanilla extract

2 tbsp sugar

1 whole Challah loaf

13x9 pyrex dish (or large rectangular dish that you can lay out the sliced challah for soaking)

Non-stick griddle pan

Butter or cooking spray

1.       Mix the 4 eggs through sugar together in a large bowl. I like to blend it with a hand blender to whip air into the mixture and get it frothy. If you don’t have a hand blender, you can use a whisk or even put the ingredients in a blender.

2.       Slice the challah into inch thick pieces

3.       Place the slices of challah into the pyrex dish and pour the mixture over the pieces being sure to soak each piece.

4.       Let the challah soak for a few seconds, flip each piece then warm the griddle.

5.       Spray the pan or put one small slice of butter over medium heat

6.       Place soaked challah slices on the griddle and let cook until golden brown.

7.       Turn over until cooks golden on the other side.

8.       Serve warm with syrup, fruit or a sprinkle of powdered sugar.

  

The Organization/s

It seems only fitting that since this recipe is centered on kids, that the organization be the same. Although growing up I wasn’t constantly reminded of the starving kids in some far away country, I was made aware that healthy food, for some families, was a scarcity.

Last year, while working for a client, I learned that 1 in 5 children in the U.S. struggle with hunger. This means that there are 1.7 million Texas children who are at risk of hunger. In fact, Texas has the 9th highest child food insecurity rate in the country (Texas Hunger Initiative). And of the 3 million children in Texas who participate in free and reduced lunch programs go without a meal on the weekends or don’t know where their next meal is coming from during the summers. For many kids, Friday lunch is their last certain meal until Monday’s school breakfast. Maybe there is a fast-food burger or other highly processed, nutritionally lacking meals sprinkled throughout the weekend – all of which fill the tummy but don’t necessarily fuel the body.

There are a lot of organizations locally and nationally that help families struggling with hunger. The food banks in your area (in Austin it’s the Capital Area Food Bank)  are often the gateway organizations from which families find other resources to help lift them from their current circumstances. From farmers markets to school gardens and cooking classes, the Sustainable Food Center here in Austin educates kids and families about food and making the healthiest decisions possible. On a national level, ShareOur Strength and the No Kid Hungry campaign aims to combat hunger where children live, learn and play. They have brought national attention to the issue of child-hood hunger through their partnerships with the Food Network and other corporations. But, more importantly, they work towards long-term, systemic solutions to combat hunger by ensuring families have access to the governmental resources already available in their area. 

* Full disclosure – I first wrote this waaaay back in February and didn’t post it because I wanted to edit it further. Share Our Strength was a RYLO client in 2011and since writing this, is a client again.

Recipes for Change

A neighbor passed away last month after an on-and-off again war with cancer.  We weren’t that close to him but from what I understand, he was coherent, conscious and articulate until the end.  I think he knew he was going to die the day that he died. And that’s what got me thinking.

To wake up one morning and say to yourself, today is the day – what would that feel like?  Do you wish that you could relive your life in the hours that you have left? Everyone talks about the regrets, but do you sweep those aside and focus on the positive? Do you see the memories in pictures or video? Like so many parents of young children, my memory storage is occupied by the logistics of daily life: tomorrow is pizza and ice cream day in the school lunch line, PJ day is next Friday and we owe the PTA $100. Don’t ask me what my kids first words were.

But while details of life’s bigger moments fade, I do remember the feelings surrounding them. Is that what one is enveloped by in those final hours? Not the moment in time but the feelings associated with that moment?

For me, many of those feelings are inseparably combined with tastes and smells. The mix-master of my mind combines the individual ingredients of what I saw, smelled, ate, and touched into one gooey dough that is no longer recognizable by its individual parts. My first memories of playing outside? A steaming hot baguette slathered in butter topped with coco powder and milk heated on the stove that was freshly collected from the cow. My brother’s bar mitzvah? Honey drizzled fried dough balls, babaganoush, Chakchouka, kababs and other North African dishes created by a motley crew of French family members, Muslim Algerian friends and my mother orchestrating in the kosher synagogue kitchen.  Our wedding? The smell of liquor, beer intertwined with musty sweat from a mosh pit of horah dancing. The birth of my children? The stale, institutional antiseptic smell of hospital food followed by the fresh heat of salsa, grilled and seasoned fajitas and fresh tortillas sneaked into my room. Our first home? Newly picked, jewel red tomatoes delivered in a brown paper bag by our welcoming neighbor. Since then, she’s delivered bubbling blueberry pie and home-made eggnog (yes, I know you hate eggnog but you haven’t had this – trust me) but that’s the subject of another blog post.

These are the memories of celebration. And although I remember the more difficult moments in much the same way – the smell of clumped dirt hitting my fathers grave, or the smell of rain and how I always thought that brought new life to the world. That was the day we buried by step-father. The same Pine-Sol, antiseptic smell from my daughters birth now mixed with my breast milk following her surgery. Ultimately, it’s the tastes, smells and feelings surrounding celebration that are the easiest to recall.

Through this blog I hope to capture and recreate women’s recipes of celebration and joy from around the globe. Recipes for Change was inspired by Half the Sky, the best-selling book by Nicholas Kristoff and Sheryl WuDunn that celebrates the courage of women and girls, especially in third world countries, and the economic potential we can achieve when we remove gender bias and honor the value, thoughts and potential of half our population.  As I continue to read, I’m marveling at the strength of these seemingly ordinary women who turned the tragedy they endured – often accepted as the norm within their villages, families, peers, etc – as a never ending well of strength in the fight towards justice for future generations. I hope Recipes for Change acts as a small thread that starts stitching our global family together through understanding, empathy and knowledge with a pit-stop through the stomach. After all, where there are celebrations, there is always food that defines cultures, connects generations, binds families together, nourishes the body, fills the soul and peaks the senses.

At first the recipes will be from family and various cookbooks but always linked to an organization that’s working in the recipes country of origin. A link to the organization will be included where you can learn more, spread the word and maybe even make a contribution.  My goal is that this blog evolves to include profiles of women who are helped by these organizations and possibly, their personal recipes of celebration.
The first link is to the Half the Sky website, in honor of countless women who prove that you don’t need to have graduated from an Ivy league school - let alone received a formal education, or have access to the latest technology, or even need the approval of elders to know that something is fundamentally wrong and become a force for change. On this site you’ll find so many worthy organizations working in specific areas fighting for women’s health, economic empowerment, education and gender equality. A few minutes of research and reading will provide so much inspiration, hope and once again, a reminder of the thread that stitches us together with our sisters around the globe.

Click here to visit Half the Sky Movement's Website

Chakchouka

Chakchouka (Chou-chou kha) is a roasted pepper and tomato salad that is one of the core foods of childhood celebrations.  This is a typical North African dish and in my family, it’s served as part of a larger mezze course. It’s so simple in preparation but complex and savory in flavor. This is one of my standard appetizers when we have company and a girlfriend makes it and puts it on eggs, toast and generally uses it like salsa. You’ll find recipes online that include sunny side up eggs cooked into the dish. Personally, I can eat Chakchouka as a stand-alone dish with a good French bread.

6 red bell peppers
6 green bell peppers
10 cloves of garlic, peeled and sliced
3 (28 oz) cans whole tomatoes, torn and juice reserved (be sure that the tomatoes don’t have basil or additional herbs).
3 tbsp. olive oil
Salt to taste
Preserved lemon slices to garnish (or fresh lemon if preserved isn’t available)
Chopped curley leaf parsley to garnish 

Cut peppers in half and remove stems and seeds. Place peppers on foil lined cookie sheet and spray with Pam. Roast peppers under broiler until charred. Place peppers in a paper bag to cool. Once cooled, remove peppers from bag and peel. The peels should be easy to remove and it’s easier to do so under running water. 

Place peeled peppers in a colander to drain. After drained, tear peppers into stripes being sure to remove any remaining seeds. Saute the pepper strips and garlic in olive oil for a few minutes – until garlic is fragrant but not burned. (I like to use a non-stick pan) Add tomato strips along with juice and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer, stirring often, until reduced. Add salt to season and chill. Garnish with lemon slices and chopped parsley before serving.