The Celebration of Southern (the first of many posts)

Sarah in the center, my sister in law at left and
my husband at right - a little before I met him. 

“She must be a nice Southern girl with a name like y’all.” 

Those were Sarah's, my husbands grandmother, first words when told my name and that Richard and I were dating.  I only met Sarah a few times and on one memorable occasion, she told me to come into the bathroom after I knocked to say goodbye. She popped her head out of the shower - with a cap over her head and covered only by the shower curtain - and directed me to "take good care of my grandson." She passed away shortly thereafter from cancer but through the years, I feel like my relationship with her has deepened through the many family stories and memories that are shared whenever a group – small or large – get together. And when my husband’s extended family get together, it’s a large group.

My mother in law (bottom left) with just
a few of her cousins.

Sarah, her four siblings and their children, including my mother-in-law, grew up in Macon and Atlanta, Georgia. Helene, my mother-in-law grew up surrounded by a large, gregarious, tight-knit, Jewish family with most of her cousins within driving distance and as some of her closest friends. My mother in law has always had a confidence about who she is and an ability to see humor in most situations which I think is the product of being deeply rooted to a family that encircled the children in safety and shielded them from the times that were changing rapidly.

Although all of Sarah’s siblings – and many of their spouses – have all passed away, they created a glue that has bonded their children (my mother in law and her cousins) through the years and despite geographic distances. Many of them came this past summer when my in-laws celebrated their 50^th Wedding Anniversary. Or as I re-named it, “Mike and Helene’s Wedding Weekend Part II."

There was a Friday evening dinner (the rehearsal dinner) and Saturday bar-b-que lunch (the brides lunch), the Saturday party (the wedding) and a Sunday brunch (the brunch). The Saturday bar-b-que lunch was your typical Texas bar-b-que with all of the fixins but many of us didn’t really touch the coleslaw that should be renamed Soup of Mayonnaise. 

My in laws when they first met.

The only coleslaw I really enjoy is Grandma Sarah’s slaw – a vinegar based slaw that has a little sweetness from sugar, pops of flavor from the different seeds used in the marinade and the crunch of the cabbage. This simple yet satisfying dish was one of the first I was introduced to in my husband’s family. And now, this is the coleslaw that everyone in all of our extended families make from California to Florida. Whenever it’s served, if someone related to Sarah is nearby, there is always a story or two told about Sarah and you can almost feel her scooching her chair up to the table and joining us.

And that’s what the entire 50^th Anniversary weekend felt like. The generations who weren’t physically in the room could be felt moving around us sharing in the roars of laughter at the telling of family stories, old jokes and recounting of family gossip. The cousins drank each other up faster than they could get another cocktail or say “come give me some sugar” to the younger generations in the room. After explaining to my children that "give me some sugar" isn't an ingredient to another recipe, I realized that through the shared memories of the cousins that weekend, once again, Grandma Sarah and her siblings were encircling all of us and giving us a little sugar of their own. 

Grandma Sarah

*When I highlight an organization in my blog posts, I try to focus on those that work in communities to help women and children.  Sarah, a disproportionate number of her siblings and others in her family, fought cancer and many didn't survive. So for this blog post, I'm highlighting the American Cancer Society, headquartered in Atlanta, GA. The ASC helps people get the support and information they need, fights for people to have access to quality health care, provides research and helps find cures.

The Celebration of The Soup Quest

I used to hate soup. Sure, I loved chicken soup made with homemade chicken broth filled with carrots, bits of onion and fluffy matzah balls sitting like an island in the middle of my bowl. But, that was reserved for special holidays served only a few times year. And, I somewhat enjoyed my mom’s pistou soup but mainly, I liked the French bread and the pesto-like topping. 

In my mind, soup that you ate for an everyday meal came from a can that made an odd burping noise as you dumped it into the pot and the most you added was a cup of water. All I tasted was salt, preservatives and the texture was like gelatin in my mouth.

Then, I moved to the East coast and was desperate for a food that could warm me from the inside out during the harsh winters or one that could cool me off during the oppressive summers. My quest lead me into some of the top restaurants in the city to a few chain restaurants and many lunch dives where I finally discovered fresh tomato basil soup made with a hint of cream and served with French bread. This launched my love affair with soup. But, I was still naïve in the many ways soup can be served until a trip to Spain opened my eyes (or stomach) to how satiating a gazpacho made with ripe, fresh vegetables can be.

Once we moved back home to Texas, I went in pursuit of the perfect bowl of chicken tortilla soup and the slightly different caldo. Caldo – the Mexican version of chicken soup - combines a hearty chicken broth with cooked, earthy vegetables, fresh cilantro and onions added in. In my neck of the woods, the two soups are very similar although tortilla soup usually has corn tortillas as a thickening base and a spicy chicken and tomato broth while caldo has the tortillas on the side and the broth doesn’t have the tomatoes.  I have sampled caldo and chicken tortilla soup at many local restaurants asking for all of the condiments, from the cheese to the onions, on the side so I can truly taste the wholesome broth and then determine what needs to be added to give depth to the soup. Only then do I add lime (as I’ve said before, I’m a citrusholic), cilantro, onion and a pinch of cheese.

Over the years, I’ve looked for chicken tortilla soup recipes that combine the best aspects of the restaurant versions I’ve taste tested and the recipe below covers all of the cornerstones I look for in a tortilla soup. I found it in a Williams Sonoma soup cookbook called Winter Soups by Ray Overton and I’ve modified the recipe over the years. The soup starts with corn tortillas as the base followed by a tomato chicken stock broth that’s full of spice and finished with shredded chicken, fresh avocado and cilantro. It’s a one-bowl meal that warms you from the heat and makes you sweat from the spice then has you coming back for a 2^nd bowl.

The next soup quest ... ramen.

My partner in the quest.

I think my heated love affair with soup has turned into a comfy long term relationship as I discover new soups to explore and recipes to conquer. The newest quest? Ramen. I will keep you informed of my progress.

The Celebration of Gratitude

Now that we are solidly into the New Year, it seems like the holiday sentiments have faded away. That’s why I wanted this week’s recipe to serve as a reminder of why I started this blog – to link women’s recipes of celebration and life with their stories. Stories of love and laughter and stories that bring challenges we must overcome. That brings me to my new friend Sera, who was introduced to me via email by a mutual friend.

Mamma at COHI birthing center getting to know her new baby

Although we’ve not yet met in person, as an indication of changing times, we’re already friends on Facebook and somehow the Facebook algorithm puts all of her updates on my feed (my husband’s updates, however, are not on my Facebook feed – not sure what this means). Sera, a midwife with a master’s degree in public health, is the founder and Executive Director of Circle of Health International (COHI) which works to provide women’s, reproductive and newborn health care in disaster and war-torn areas.

Sera was in Haiti last week and one of her posts broke my heart. “First mama we met at the birth center Sunday brought one of the saddest outcomes we will witness on this trip. She traveled here from 3 hours away in the middle of the night, from her village where she’d been in labor for 2 days. The sweet little baby boy didn’t survive the labor, and arrived into this world too late.”

From then on, I followed Sera’s updates on Facebook and found myself crying tears of joy or sadness at each time I read her posts. There were posts that gave insights to the general dangers that come with everyday life in Haiti all of which have to be considered even in the throes of a difficult labor. “At 3 am, the COHI midwives transported a mama delivering a challenging breech baby to Port Au Prince. ‘They won’t shoot at an ambulance,’ alluding to the other dangers facing women here, the midwives were saying to us as they called our collaborators trying to secure safe passage for this tired mama. None was found, and with heavy heart she was loaded into a family owned vehicle, not an ambulance, belonging to COHI’s partners and went into the darkness, arriving safely at the hospital one hour later.”

Colorful menstrual hygiene kits in pretty bags

Or, there was this post: “Menstrual hygiene is the #1 reason girls don’t finish their education. COHI’s team in Haiti just distributed hand-made menstrual hygiene kits that include soap, washcloths, panties and washable + reusable menstrual pads after a workshop on menstruation, hygiene and the value of education. The girls were all between ages of 11-15, and still in school.” To look at my daughter and think that as a teenage girl, the thing that could keep her from an education is lack of access to products I can pick up at the 3 different pharmacies and the 7-11 all within walking distance from my house, is mind boggling to me. 

So, in thinking about this week’s recipe and how COHI and itsteam work to make the communities in which they live a brighter place, I wondered, what sustains them (apart from mental and emotional strength)?

Sera shared that on most days, the midwives, whom COHI trains and supports, eat essentially a beans and rice dish made with a meatstock. I have a love/hate relationship with beans and rice thanks to my limited travels in Central America and 4 ½ years of being a broke college student. But this simple dish is the kind that gives comfort, is hearty, filling and surprisingly fragrant with spice and fresh hot peppers. It’s easily made into a vegan or vegetarian dish and even my kiddos enjoyed it.

More importantly, eating with my family was a practice in gratitude for my healthy children. As I ate, I couldn’t help but think of the juxtaposition between the mamas in Haiti and the friends and family who have recently delivered healthy babies in clean and bright hospitals with all of the benefits (and comforts) of modern medicine. For the mamas in Haiti – and in so many places around the world – giving birth is still one of the most dangerous things a woman will do in her lifetime.  And the birthing process is but the first step in the long, rocky and dangerous road, filled with so many obstacles to living a healthy life – one that allows for education and supporting future families.

COHI does incredible work to ensure that these new moms can welcome their babies into the world with the trusted help of trained and compassionate professionals in a in a safe environment. And all of this care is provided for so little financial cost – emergency transportation to Port Au Prince in anambulance is $25, a vaginal delivery at the COHI birth center is $65, and the salary for one of the COHI midwives at the birth center is $100. You can clickhere to donate to COHI. It’s worth forgoing a night on the town, eating beans and rice at home and donating the difference to make a difference.

The Celebration of Cocktail Hour

Pacific Northwest like weather has settled over Austin for the last several weeks leaving me with thoughts of summer and our weekend ritual – the 4:00 cocktail by the lake.

Cocktail hour at the lake

This past summer, cocktail hour was elevated several notches when my cousin, Sarah, came to visit. Sarah has lived in Washington, DC for over 11 years and during that time, she’s been on the forefront of the awakened food scene (in a city that worked too hard to pay attention to what it ate until recently) and worked in some of the hippest bars. Her passion for good food, talent in gardening which provides many of the fresh herbs for her cocktails, gifted writing combined with her natural curiosity has made her a better guide than Zagat’s for the best bar and restaurants in DC. Although Sarah been on the East Coast for a long time, she is deeply rooted to the big island of Hawaii where she was born and raised. So, it's fitting that she infuses each cocktail she creates with salty island breezes, rays of warmth and little hau’oli (joy) which means delicious outcomes.

The first cocktails were served as hangover cures because of the bitters and other ingredients that were used. Creativity in creating tasty libations continued from the late 1800’s up until Prohibition. During this time,“new cocktails were designed to hide the flavors of bathtub gin, and whiskey was rare because it required years of barrel aging, raising the likelihood of being busted.” “Honey, fruit juices, and other flavorings served to mask the foul tastes of the inferior liquors. Sweet cocktails were easier to drink quickly, an important consideration when the establishment might be raided at any moment.” The modern cocktail movement isn’t that far away from Sarah’s Hawaiian roots since it was soldiers returning from their World War II South Pacific posts who “brought back a love of Polynesian drinks …" which "... featured fresh produce and culinary fusion in innovative drink design, which all factor heavily in the craft cocktail resurgence we are seeing now…”

Once the weather turned cold in December, I started cooking all of my winter comfort foods from chili to roasted chicken and just last week, chicken verde stew. But I’ve been thinking about these cocktails ever since Sarah turned the kitchen counter into a bar with multiple types of seasonable herbs, fresh squeezed citrus and locally made gin, vodka and other liquor. So, when a small group of girlfriends got together this past weekend to serve as the cheer squad for another friend, this seemed like the perfect opportunity to bring a little summer sun into some cold, dreary days. Because let’s be honest, nothing warms you up more than the combination of cool vodka, simple syrup, a little mint garnish and memories of summer. 

Tools you will need:

• Shaker
• Jigger (for measuring ingredients)
• Muddler (optional)

I used fresh squeezed citrus for each of these drinks. I found it easiest to squeeze multiple lemons and limes into different containers prior to making the cocktails. I bought fresh squeezed orange juice at my grocery store. I also made the simple syrup ahead of time which is very easy. In a sauce pan, combine 1 cup water (preferably filtered) and 1 cup white cane sugar. Put on high heat, stirring occasionally. Once the liquid becomes clear, usually right before it boils, turn the heat off and let it cool. Once cooled, pour simple syrup into a container. The honey syrup is made the same way with 1 cup of honey replacing the sugar. 

Sugar and water for the simple syrup

Simple syrup cooling. Notice it's clear.

Using a funnel, I poured the cooled syrup into this bottle.
I tripled the recipe to fill this bottle.

Ingredients for the gimlet

Gimlet

(makes one drink)

Ingredients:

• 2 oz gin
• 1.5 oz simple syrup
• 3/4 oz lime juice
• Fresh mint, tarragon or lemon verbena (I used mint)

What to do:

1. Put 1 sprig of mint or other fresh herb in shaker and muddle it 
2. Add 3-4 ice cubes
3. Add remaining ingredients and shake
4. Pour strained gimlet in glass and garnish with mint or other fresh herb that was used

The Speakeasy

(makes one very easy to drink cocktail)

Fresh squeezed orange juice, lemon juice
and vodka for the Speakeasy

Ingredients:

• 2 oz vodka
• 1.5 oz simple syrup
• 1/2 oz lemon juice
• 1/4 - 1/2 oz orange juice

What to do:

1. Put 3-4 ice cubes in shaker
2. Add remaining ingredients and shake
3. Pour strained Speakeasy in glass and garnish with sliver or lemon or orange rind

Neighborhood

(makes one drink)

Ingredients:

• 2 oz Rye
• 1.5 oz honey syrup
• 3/4 oz lemon
• 2 blackberries

What do to:

1. Put 3-4 ice cubes in shaker
2. Add remaining ingredients and shake
3. Pour strained Neighborhood in glass and garnish with 2 blackberries

The Celebration of Camouflage

2014 (and Austin) in the rear view with a photo-bomb
by our son

Welcome, 2015. I have to admit, the end of 2014 was a little exhausting and let’s just say that my normal healthy eating habits checked out for the entire month of December. Ok, maybe they started burning out sometime in November.

Now that you’re here, 2015, I have to make a few confessions and commitments before we can start our year-long relationship. I will probably have more than my fair share of French fries, butter, chocolate and wine this year but my mantra will be “everything in moderation.” My focus will be on healthy eating rather than yo-yo and what’s-the-latest-fad dieting. I will push my kids to eat more fruit rather than combinations of starch and cheese for snacks. I will put more vegetables on our dinner table but they will be hidden from my children. And that’s one of my confessions.

Several posts ago, I talked about how I use food to motivatemy children. The truth is, I also sneakily camouflage vegetables in dishes that they love. My kids have a psychic ability to sense a vegetable with their headphones on, playing on the computer and before the dish hits the dinner table. I found the key to successfully sneaking veggies is to be sure that the color of the vegetable matches the main dish and the flavor profile of the hidden food is complimentary or neutral to the main dish.  The mac and cheese with cauliflower puree – huge bomb. The color worked but the taste profile of the cauliflower overpowered the mac and cheese. But, add broccoli or carrots to a red sauce and blend it all together and serve it with pasta, or chocolate bread made with zucchini or a verde sauce with spinach – all successful. 

Which leads to another confession … when the kids eat their veggies and don’t know it, I always smile sweetly in their direction while my inner voice roars “hahahahahaha” in an evil laugh kind of way.

Chicken verde stew with condiments

The Celebration of Small Packages

Years ago I worked at an organization where the mission was all about electing women to state and federal office and it followed suit that the majority of the staff were women (with several feminist men sprinkled in for diversity). Although my job took me to all parts of the country - sometimes from one coast to another in one week - and I spent most of my time on the road, this was one of the most supportive, fun, dynamic places to work. Everyone who worked there was dedicated to the mission of the organization, passionate about the cause and absolutely committed to the role they played in the outcomes. 

Which also made it one of the most competitive places I’ve ever worked. And this was never more evident than at THE Cookie Exchange which took place right before the holidays. 

Those participating – and if you didn’t participate it was like you forfeited the biggest game of the season – would file into the conference room with their containers full of goodies. The truth is, I don’t even remember how the actual exchange happened but I do remember everyone tasting each other’s cookies, giving their polite feedback and words of encouragement and then ranking the cookie on a secret list in their heads.

To this day, I fear the rugelach I brought to the exchange were a big flop. You know when you look back at minor (or major) moments in your life wishing you could travel back in time with the knowledge or tools you have today so you could be more successful?

The little package of goodies, that comes directly from our friend Amy's kitchen in Michigan and arrives at our doorstep before the holidays, is that secret weapon I wish I had during THE Cookie Exchange. For some the end of Thanksgiving marks the beginning of the holiday season. But for me, the holidays don’t start until that package arrives.

Amy always includes a variety of biscotti, a little package of coffee grounds, chocolate gold coins and other candy. It's always the biscotti that we tear the package open for and eat as an appetizer for dinner.

Based on her biscotti alone, I believe Amy to be an excellent baker. Growing up, she claims she wasn’t a very good cook nor was her mother, “who was an artist and expressed her creativeness through calligraphy and Judaica instead of dinner.” “However, I started to teach myself after the 1980 election” when the Congressman she was working for lost in the Reagan Republican wave. “I felt like it was time to create something tangible to make me feel better and I started to cut out recipes and bake things to give away to friends.” So was born the Great Biscotti Mailings (GBM). The GBM’s started before things like Facebook and other social media and Amy sent them out each year as a way of keeping in touch with people she doesn’t see that often and letting them know she’s thinking of them. The GBM's have grown over the years and to this day, “with every address label, I think about the people I am sending to and it makes me happy.” Maybe as happy as receiving them makes us feel. 

Although the biscotti flavors change every year and are always delicious, the cranberry and pistachio ones that arrived this year were particularly wonderful with the savory of the pistachio, the sweet tart of the cranberry and the licorice taste of the aniseed. So, I asked Amy for the recipe. 

As I was baking the biscotti, my mind wandered and I started thinking about THE Cookie Exchange. How I wish I had this recipe – and the others below – back then.

I would have won.

The Celebration of All Things Fried

Earlier this week marked the beginning of Hannukah. The eight crazy nights stretched through this week and end right before Christmas. My kids look forward to two things during Hannukah – gifts and latkes.

Golden brown latke's ready to eat

Latke’s are traditional potato pancakes that are eaten this time of year along with sufganiyot (jelly doughnuts) and all other things fried. Personally, that’s what I think is cool about this holiday. Don’t get me wrong, the meaning behind the holiday is pretty amazing – good over evil, resources lasting longer than expected, hope and faith persevering in the presence of certain darkness (literally and figuratively) with a few miracles sprinkled in for good measure. 

So, what do we do to commemorate the occasion? We eat. But better than that, we are told that we must eat fried food to remember the miracle of the oil in the ancient temple that lasted a full eight days as opposed to the one day that was expected. As one of my girlfriends said to me when I told her about Hannukah and the foods that we are instructed to eat, “an entire holiday about fried food? Where do I sign up to be Jewish?” Wait until I tell her about Passover when we’re commanded to drink 4 cups brimming with wine.

This year for Hannukah, my daughter had to write an essay about our holiday food traditions and bring in a little taste of that food for everyone in her class. This meant that in the first 2 days of Hannukah, between her class project and the family dinners, I made so many latke’s that the fried smell permeated every inch of my house and won’t dissipate until next Hannukah. The city might end up rezoning our house to a fast-food location because you can smell it down the block.

Although latke’s aren’t hard to make, they are labor intensive and make me very grateful for modern day kitchen tools. Over the years, I’ve learned a few tricks which I wanted to share with you along with our family recipe and an alternative version. 

And yes, I fry them. Because every other time of year, I feel guilty for eating french fries, or justify that swiping them from my kids plate “doesn’t count” or I have to count every calorie, point or whatever when I eat fried food and hash-browns are reserved as a hangover indulgence. So this one time of year when I don’t have to feel guilty for eating fried food and in fact, it’s a way of commemorating my heritage well then, I'm going to take full advantage of it and own it.