Welcome, Dear New Year!

“Don’t tell anyone or your wish won’t come true.” Have you ever heard this saying?

When I was a young child, every chance I got—birthday candles, shooting stars, and wishing wells—I wished for cherry pie. I never told anyone because I wanted my wish to come true. It was, however, only when I finally fessed up, that I got the cherry pie.

Making my wish for cherry pie

Here’s another confession: I keep a list of potential baby names in a drawer next to my bed, and sometimes when I can’t fall asleep, I plan my wedding. This used to be a secret—a guilty pleasure that I kept to myself—since I’m neither dating nor expecting. I’m learning, however, that the more I share my dreams, even the embarrassing little secrets like these, the more support I get.

As we transition into the New Year, I plan to take more ownership of my dreams, rather than hide them away in a drawer. I want to proudly announce to the world, “This is who I am and this is what I desire,” but at the same time, I want to try to detach from the idea that there’s just one possible version of my life. Dreams can manifest in a myriad of ways. If we’re honest and forthright about what we want, others can’t help but assist us in making our dreams come true. Some things—like the list of baby names—I’ve preferred to keep to myself because I didn’t want to be laughed at or pitied. But, I’m slowly learning that when something brings you joy and when you tell people about it with confidence, they don’t pity or laugh at you.

The New Year is a time for reflection and anticipation of things to come. I’ve been enjoying how different I feel this time around. No more longing. Just contentment. This past summer, I had a meltdown. I was pretty sure that I’d never have the things I desire most. The good thing that came from this, however, was that I realized I’d have to be willing to let my dreams happen in different ways. Rather than doggedly looking for Mr. Right and a storybook romance, followed by a beautiful wedding in wine country, and then a healthy baby, I began to consider other alternatives and different routes to that imagined future.

Additionally, I decided to release my concern for what people would think if I did things a bit differently. It turns out I actually care a lot more about how I appear to others than they care about how I appear to them. I also worried what my conservative grandparents would think if I decided to have a baby on my own. But the truth is, although it might not be their first choice, they’d end up loving the baby.

One of the locations where I've pictured my future wedding

The more I’ve released my firm grip on having my life be a certain way, and the more I’ve been willing to own my secrets and share them with the world, the more content I’ve become. Ever since my midsummer meltdown, I’ve felt more at peace than I have in years. Despite previous attempts, this is the first time it truly feels as though I’ve surrendered to whatever path my life will take. I do still occasionally peek at the list of baby names and imagine dancing by moonlight at my wedding reception, but now it’s more of a before-bed activity much like reading or doing a crossword, rather than a longing pulling at my heart.

As we enter 2012, I’m of course still hoping that this will be the year I fall in love with my forever man, but it doesn’t feel like a necessity. And rather than thinking about giving birth to a real baby, I’m much more focused on my other baby—my cookbook that will be published this year.

What wishes have you been keeping to yourself? What are your dreams, desires, and longings? In what ways can you share them with others? What steps can you take to manifest your dreams—or perhaps some unforeseen version of them—in the New Year?

I wish you the most splendid start to 2012. May this New Year be filled with love, adventure, and of course, good food!

A Champagne Cocktail for the New Year:

Cherry Pie Sparkler

In honor of the cherry pie I wished for as a child, here’s a cocktail to remind us to share our hopes and dreams with others so that they’ll come true. As we transition into the New Year and eagerly anticipate the exciting adventures that await us in 2012, raise a glass. Here’s to welcoming our dreams in whatever manner they manifest themselves!


Makes one delicious cocktail

4 frozen cherries, slightly defrosted
½ tsp. sugar
a pinch of cinnamon
5 oz. sparkling wine

sugar for the rim of the glass
1 cinnamon stick

To frost the glass with sugar: Gently moisten the rim of a Champagne flute with a damp finger. Sprinkle a teaspoon or so of sugar on a small plate. Dip the rim of the glass in the sugar and roll the edges in the sugar until completely frosted.

To make the cocktail: In a small bowl, muddle the cherries with the sugar and cinnamon. With a small spoon, transfer the cherries to the Champagne flute, and top with the sparkling wine. Serve with a cinnamon stick and enjoy!

***Happy New Year!!!***

Do All Roads Lead Here?

Do you ever have the feeling that you would’ve ended up where you are today regardless of the paths you’ve chosen and the decisions you’ve made?

In the past, I’ve thought of my life as a sinuous trail with forks and offshoots that offer different possibilities for my life. At certain junctures, turning right instead of left or taking the uphill as opposed to the downhill has led me to where I am today. In my mind, my life path has looked like a family tree, continually branching off, each decision leading to another and another.

However, now I’m not so sure that’s how it works.

Sinuous Life Path

I wonder if we actually choose our destiny or if it chooses us. Is it possible that in spite of the choices we make, in some way or another, we eventually end up where we were always meant to be. This idea I’m formulating doesn’t, of course, preclude freewill and choice, it just seems that there are some greater forces at play, like a large magnet that continually pulls us toward a certain life.

The final two lines of “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost—“I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference”—are commonly used to support the idea that taking the unconventional route leads to great things; however, it turns out that in previous lines Frost says something quite different. He writes that in his old age, he will say that it made all the difference, but chances are the paths were pretty similar. Could that really be true? Are the paths we choose between not really as different as we think? Would I have ended up where I am today regardless?

 Christmas Ornament from 1982

Me as a Young Girl

While decorating my Christmas tree last week, I made a surprising discovery. In many ways, despite supposed transformations and various life experiences, I’m the exact same person I was as a young child. Every year since I was born my mom has given me a Christmas ornament. Usually she chooses it and wraps it for me to open on Christmas morning. For some reason, when I was five years old, she let me pick out my own ornament. The one I chose was made up of little wooden spoons and a rolling pin. I distinctly remember being at the mall and falling in love with the ornament. My mom tried to convince me to choose one of the prettier ones, but I was adamant. I wanted the cooking one. Was it chance that I would be so attracted to this particular ornament or was it fate?

Often when I look back on my life, I think about the moments that seemed to be turning points, times in my life when another decision would have seemingly sent me in a completely different direction. But I wonder whether or not those moments were really as pivotal as I imagined. Is it inevitable that the interests and passions we possessed as children propel us toward our eventual destiny, despite the detours we take along the way? Throughout my life I’ve done many different things, yet it seems I keep coming back to the very things my five year-old self was drawn to so many years ago.

What are your passions? Did you have these interests as a child? If not, were there things you enjoyed as a child that pushed you in the direction of your current life? Are there parts of your young self that you’ve denied while trying to take the path seemingly less traveled? What steps could you take today to reawaken those latent interests and rekindle that particular destiny?

Tahini Balls

One of my earliest memories involves crawling into the upper kitchen cabinets—with the aid of a chair—and pulling down random ingredients, which I mixed together to make what I called “Tahini Balls.” They were a concoction of tahini, cocoa powder, peanut butter, honey, coconut, and whatever else I could pilfer. Barely old enough to walk or talk, but I was already blending and mixing. The following recipe is my attempt at recreating those tasty treats from my first foray into cooking.

I must mention…I was raised without wheat, dairy, or refined sugar, so these little balls seemed quite decadent to me at the time.

The next time you need a pick-me up, eat a few of these instead of candy or a store bought energy bar!

Makes about 20 nickel-sized balls

1/3 cup creamy peanut butter
2 tbs. tahini
2 tbs. honey
3 tbs. unsweetened cocoa
¼ cup unsweetened shredded coconut

In a small bowl, cream the peanut butter and tahini with the honey and cocoa. Using your palms, roll the mixture into small, nickel-sized balls. Put the coconut on a small plate and roll each ball in the coconut. Chill for a few hours or overnight. This will make them firmer and less sticky.

Affirm the Affirmative

I’m seeing my chiropractor today, and I’m going to tell a fib.

I’m an honest person, perhaps even to a fault. As a child when my mom would enhance a story for dramatic effect, I was always there to set the record straight. “No, Mom, there weren’t ten geese. There were only eight.” Or, “That’s not right. You paid $5.99, not $6.00.” Truth and details have always been important to me, sometimes annoyingly so.

A few years ago, however, I discovered a secret. Fibbing can bring about remarkable results. The medical profession repeatedly reminds us that to get the best care, we must be honest with our doctors. In some cases, however, honesty isn’t always the best policy.

I thrive on positive reinforcement and recoil from rebuke. When I first moved to Los Angeles, my new physician asked how often I exercised. I’d just started a new job, had a long commute, and was acquainting myself with the Southern California car culture, which meant that unless walking from my office to the break room was what she meant by exercise, I wasn’t getting much. Nor was I taking the vitamin supplements she was urging. I was duly chastised and felt like a schoolgirl being scolded for not doing my homework. After that visit, however, I did not commence an exercise regimen.

Reveling in having conquered the mountain

The next time my doctor asked about my exercise habits, I told her I worked out three to five times a week and did a combination of cardio and weights. It felt so good to be praised that I was inspired to actually make it true. That, combined with the guilt about not telling the truth, was the jumpstart I needed. I reinstated my gym membership, hired a personal trainer, and bought a load of vitamins at the health food store. Had I told her that I’d put my gym membership on permanent “vacation hold” and that after a long day of teaching elementary school, I was too tired to do anything but eat dinner and watch TV, I’m pretty sure I would have been reprimanded and wouldn’t have felt so inspired to start exercising.

On another occasion, a dentist told me I had bad teeth and scared me with stories of gum decay. Rather than this encouraging me to make an even greater effort with my oral hygiene, I felt so discouraged—like the whole situation was hopeless—that I gave up flossing all together. It turns out that this dentist was just trying to find ways to drum up extra business. The next dentist I saw praised my strong teeth and my good habits. Wanting to prove her right, I went home and started flossing religiously and put more thought into how and when I brushed.

When I see my chiropractor this afternoon and he asks if I’ve been keeping up with the stretches and exercises that he recommended, I’m going to tell him that I have, which is mostly true. Seeing him and fibbing a bit will be just the inspiration I need to put even more time and energy into doing the things necessary to keep my body strong, healthy, and pain free.

A photo from my backpacking days

Although positive reinforcement doesn’t work for everyone, in my years as a schoolteacher, I observed that the majority of children do best when encouraged in the affirmative. And it’s the same for adults. For instance, the other day a friend told me that I’m the healthiest person she knows. Unfortunately, the Meadow she knew is a more energetic 20-year old version of myself. Wanting, however, to live up to her view of me, I immediately ate some leafy greens and went for a fast walk up a steep hill.

What motivates you? If you’re like me and are inspired by praise, when giving yourself pep talks or when conversing with friends, clients, or children, try to find ways to laud effort. For most of us, this makes us want to do and be that much better.

Leafy Greens with Green Apple

Leafy greens in my garden this past summer

Wanting to be the person my old friend thinks I am, I’m making an even greater effort to exercise and eat well. Leafy greens are not only full of healthful vitamins and minerals, but also they contain protein and are really tasty too. The Tuscan kale that I planted in my garden last winter continues to grow and grow. I’ve had the opportunity to eat it in soups, salads, and sautéed. This is my current favorite preparation. It’s full of flavor and is a wonderful late autumn dish. I especially like it alongside roasted poultry.

1 bunch kale (approx. 8 oz.), stalks removed and roughly chopped
1 bunch Swiss chard (approx. 8 oz.), roughly chopped (stems included)
1 Granny Smith apple, peeled, cored, and thinly sliced
5-6 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1/3 cup cider vinegar
salt (optional)*

Wash the kale and chard. As long as you can cut the greens safely while they’re still damp, don’t worry about drying them. The extra moisture will actually help facilitate the cooking. Remove the fibrous interior rib (stalk) from the kale and then roughly chop the leaves. Chop the chard, including the stem. Place both in a large heavy-bottomed pot. Add the apple and garlic slices. Pour the cider vinegar over the greens and turn to medium heat and cover. Stir occasionally and adjust heat as needed so that the greens braise in their own juices without sticking to the bottom. After about an hour they will be tender and ready for an autumn feast.

*I don’t use salt in this dish since the greens have a natural saltiness to them, but if you want it a bit saltier, add it to taste.

Auditioning the Future

Dating in your teens and twenties is like eating at an all-you-can-eat buffet, whereas dating in your thirties and beyond is more like getting a sampler plate that’s been passed around the table a few times.

In our teens and twenties, romantic relationships often grow from friendships or from what Carrie Bradshaw calls “zsa zsa zoo.” Dating later in life, however, is a completely different story. Instead of just seeking chemistry and connection, many of us are also auditioning lifestyles. Because, face it, by the time we’re in our thirties, we’ve already made a number of decisions about the direction our life will take, and most likely we won’t change drastically, and neither will the other person. This means that we don’t just date a person, we’re also dating their career, exes, possible children, pets, habits, and interests.

Envisioning a future wedding

It’s no longer just about “hey, he’s good looking” or “he’s so nice.” Choosing whom to spend time with can mean the difference between being with someone who’s married to his job and someone who hasn’t yet found his passion. Or maybe it means spending vacations visiting in-laws when you would’ve been touring Europe if you’d ended up with another guy. Not one of these things is better than another, but each presents a different type of life.

As I navigate the dating world in my thirties, I imagine what my life would be like with each man that I go out with. Although I try not to, the truth is that when I’m dating, I’m looking for someone who could be a potential husband as well as a father to my future children. Dating is no longer just about whether or not you feel an attraction and enjoy each other’s company. It’s also about finding a partner to balance the checkbook and make dinner with you. And it’s about finding someone whose dreams you can support and who will do the same for you.

The advantage of dating in your thirties and beyond is that you have a pretty good idea of what you’d be getting into with each new prospect. Unfortunately, that advantage doesn’t necessarily offset the fact that as the dating pool gets smaller with each passing year, there are increasingly more factors to weigh. You find yourself asking, “What would it be like to be with a musician, a radio show host, a carpenter, a lawyer, a winemaker, or a math professor?” What about someone who’s obsessed with snakes and keeps caged rattlesnakes in his studio apartment, someone who has a two year-old child, or someone from another country who lives here on a work visa? (These are not random hypotheticals. I’ve been out with each of these men.) And then you picture yourself in this scenario and ponder, “Is this life for me?” and “Is this what I want?” And, of course, these men are most likely asking themselves the same questions about you.

Getting ready to go out dancing at 24 years old

I’ve been through the dating trenches and have emerged with a wealth of experience. I’m grateful for this opportunity because it has allowed me to imagine a myriad of possible futures, somewhat like the “Choose Your Own Adventure” books I enjoyed as a kid. The past few months, however, I’ve been taking a break from looking for love in order to allow myself time to reset. When I start dating again, I’m aiming to approach it more like I would've as a 24 year old, rather than the 34 year old that I am.

Whether you’re happily married or looking for love, if you’re like me and find yourself holding auditions for your future, I encourage you to join me and make a pledge to live more in the present and seek joy now rather than planning for future happiness. And who knows, we might just find long-term contentment where and when we least expect it.

Braised Red Cabbage with Apple

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays because it fuses everything that I love into one day: food, friends, and family. It’s about being in the moment and savoring the experience of breaking bread with those that you love. It also reminds us to be grateful for the many blessings that we already have in our lives. On Thanksgiving, rather than pondering my future, my mind will be filled with thoughts of turkey, potatoes, and braised red cabbage. What joy!

This is a good dish for holiday meals. It pairs well with roasted poultry (and for a quick weeknight meal, serve leftovers with German sausage). I especially like how easy it is. Once everything is chopped and in the pot, it needs very little attention, so you’ll be free to do other things.

Serves 4-6

1 tbs. olive oil
1 red onion, sliced (2 cups)
1 tsp. sea salt
1 head of red cabbage (2 lbs.), cored and roughly chopped into 2-in pieces
2 lg. firm apples (1 lb.) such as braeburn or fuji, peeled, cored, and thinly sliced
½ cup apple cider vinegar

In a heavy-bottomed 5-quart pot over medium, cook the onion with the olive oil and salt until the onions are soft and translucent. When I’m cooking, I like to have one thing cooking while I prepare the next. So, while you’re sautéing the onions, chop the cabbage and peel and slice the apples. Add the cabbage and apples along with the cider vinegar to the pot, stir. Cover and slow-cook on medium-low for about an hour and a half. Stir occasionally to make sure it doesn’t stick to the bottom of the pan. Cook until the cabbage is soft and tender.

The Gospel of “Should”

A boyfriend and I once got in a fight over the word “should.” It’s made up of just six innocuous letters, but when they’re strung together into a word, they create a limiting way of approaching the world. But I didn’t realize that then.

At the time of the argument, I was living on a rather remote peninsula on the coast of Maine and teaching French at a small boarding school. This was my first job and as a young teacher (only a few years older than my students) and a natural rule follower, I was keen to do everything just right and present myself in just the right way. I was the queen of “should” and “shouldn’t”… I should act a certain way. I shouldn’t do that.

Walking toward the school dining room for dinner, the nerves welled up inside of me at the thought of introducing Aidan—my boyfriend who was visiting from California—to my students. As we skirted the edge of the quad, he put his arm around me. It was a loving gesture, but it filled me with trepidation. I told him we shouldn’t do that in view of the students. Gently, I removed his arm and we stepped into the community dining room separately.

Aidan with his arm around me

Aidan was not a man who followed the gospel of “should.” At the time, I didn’t understand why he was angry and why he couldn’t understand my point of view. I lived in a small community of students and colleagues, and it was expected that we behave in a certain way. In my head I carried a list of “shoulds” and “shouldn’ts” that seemingly helped me set a good example for my students. In hindsight, I wish I’d handled the situation with Aidan differently. It would have been nice to walk with his arm around me.

There are, of course, times when it’s important to do things simply because it’s the right thing. However, there are other times when we make pointless rules for ourselves just because we think it’s what’s expected of us. These rules often don’t allow for expansion, growth, or even fun. For instance, for a long time I wouldn’t let my pets get on my bed. I didn’t really have a good reason, but I felt like it was what I should do to maintain an orderly household. One night, however, I left the bedroom door open and the cats found their way into my bed. It was actually really nice to feel their warm bodies and hear their loud purring. The dog still doesn’t sleep in my bed, but I now ask her up most mornings. I enjoy our morning cuddles, and as it turns out, there isn’t a right or a wrong way to do things.

My cats slumbering on my bed

“Should” sometimes even finds its way into parts of my life where I would least expect it. To wind down in the evening, I play a word game on the Kindle. For many months I toiled endlessly in my quest for the highest level. Sometimes I would work on one level for days and days, just so I wouldn’t have to forfeit. I’d thought that was what I should do. Then suddenly it hit me…I’m playing this game for fun. There will be no prize at the end and no one else will care if I make it to level 10. The only thing I should do is enjoy the experience of playing the game. At that moment, I stopped agonizing about advancing and instead forfeited whenever I was stumped.

Living a life of “should” and “shouldn’t” can be restrictive. It can also keep joy at bay. I’m still a recovering Queen of Should, but I’m getting better one step at a time. Moving past “should” and embracing “fun” can be liberating and can also open up a world of possibilities still yet to be explored.

 

Apple Custard Cake 

As I was thinking about what recipe to include, I immediately thought, “I should write a Thanksgiving recipe,” but I realized that what I really wanted to do was share this recipe for Apple Custard Cake. Recently my kitchen seems to be overflowing with apples, and I’ve been cooking them into this delicious skillet cake as often as I can. The following recipe happens to be gluten and dairy free, but you’d never know it. It serves eight, but I’ve been known to eat half a pan in one sitting.

Serves 8

2½ lbs. (6 or 7 apples) firm apples like Braeburn or Fuji
2 tsp. vegetable shortening
½ tsp. cinnamon
¼ tsp. freshly grated nutmeg
1 tsp. lemon zest
1 tbs. brandy
1/3 cup granulated sugar
½ cup brown rice flour
1 13-oz can coconut milk (about 1½ cups)
4 eggs

lemon juice
powdered sugar

Preheat the oven to 400ºF. Peel, core, and slice the apples. I use an apple slicer/corer and then slice each piece again with a knife to make about 16 slices per apple. Meanwhile, melt the vegetable shortening in a well-seasoned cast iron skillet over medium heat. When the shortening is starting to sizzle, add the apples and sauté. Sprinkle the cinnamon, nutmeg, and lemon zest over the apples and stir to combine. Add the brandy and continue to sauté, stirring frequently. You want the apples to be soft but not browned or mushy.

As the apples cook, combine the sugar and brown rice flour in a medium bowl. Mix the coconut milk and eggs with the sugar and flour and stir until you have a smooth batter. Since rice flour doesn’t contain gluten, you can stir the batter as much as you want and it won’t make a tough pastry. When the apples are soft, turn off the burner. Pour the batter over the apples and place the skillet in the oven. Bake until golden brown and puffy, about 40 minutes. Serve warm with a sprinkle of powdered sugar and a squeeze of fresh lemon juice.

Do Unto Others…

My mom has an ornery rooster whom I named Bogart when he was still a sweet, dapper young chick. Although I outweigh him by well…a lot, and I have opposable thumbs to grasp a stick to shoo him with, he still scares me. When I walk by the chicken coop, he hurls himself against the fence, warning me to keep away from his flock. If I go into the coop to feed the chickens some scraps, I ready my stance, prepared to fight back if necessary. And when he’s free ranging, I give him a wide berth so he will have no reason to chase me down.

My dad and Bogart jostle for position as “top dog.” It’s man’s machismo versus rooster’s, and sometimes it’s a close contest. My mom, on the other hand, doesn’t understand what the fuss is about. She adores Bogart and has never once had an “encounter” with him. She suggested I give up my defensive stance and approach him with love. At first I thought she was nuts. Although I wasn’t ready to show him affection, I did decide to stop being afraid. The most remarkable thing happened, the next time I went into the coop, Bogart didn’t strut, paw at the ground, or try to tackle me. Ever since I changed my approach, he seems to have changed his attitude toward me. Who knew that it would be a chicken that would most clearly illustrate to me, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

Although the Golden Rule is not a new idea, I’m still awed by it. And it’s not just chickens that show that whatever we project is reflected back. Last week while dining at an exquisite restaurant in Washington DC, there was an unexpected interlude between courses that was just as wonderful as the food. The experience reminded me that the more trusting I am, the more others will trust me and vice versa.

My friend, Katie, and I were having dinner at Restaurant Nora, the first certified organic restaurant in America. We decided to go all out and get the 4-course tasting menu. It was a big splurge, but it was my birthday. The manager assured us that if we placed our order quickly, we’d be able to finish in time to make it to the Kennedy Center where we had tickets for the symphony. We put ourselves in his hands and embarked on our feast.

Before we’d even blinked, a warm bowl of sweet and earthy broccoli and apple soup was placed in front of us along with a bottle of wine. Then came a delicate and flavorful crab and avocado salad. Halfway through our entrées (wild mushroom risotto for Katie and grassfed filet mignon and ratatouille for me), Katie noticed that we’d been steamrolling through the meal. Wanting to savor every moment, I tried to prolong the experience by slowing down.

Suddenly, however, it was 20 minutes to eight and we hadn’t yet had dessert. I downed the last bite of my steak, and the waiter whisked my plate away. Within seconds, the manager, Jack, appeared at our side. He told us we should leave. I asked if we could settle our bill first, but he said we needed to hurry. He told us to enjoy the show and come back afterward for dessert and drinks. We could pay then. Katie and I had entrusted him with the task of presenting an elegant four-course meal in less than two hours and as a result of our trust in him, he trusted us to momentarily walk away from a sizeable bill.

True to our word, we hurried back to Nora as soon as the performance ended. We had a delicious dessert, and were even treated to sauternes on the house. We paid our bill and left feeling as though we’d had a magical evening.

How do you want others to perceive you? What traits do you want to project to the world? If you want to feel more love, be more loving. If you want more respect, be more respectful. And if you want people to trust you more, be more trusting. When I saw my actions reflected back to me by the rooster and when I experienced Jack’s trust in us, I had a sudden awareness of what it truly means to follow the Golden Rule.

Broccoli and Apple Soup

Before dining at Restaurant Nora I’d put apples in curried soups, but I’d never thought to pair them with broccoli. What a treat! The apple adds an intoxicating hint of sweetness. I was inspired to create the following recipe to share a bit of Nora with you. This might sound crazy, but I think I like this version even more.

Broccoli soup is generally made with cream; however, when creating this recipe I wanted to try to make it without dairy. In place of cream I’ve added blanched raw almonds, which act to round out the flavors in the way that cream would.

Serves 6 as an appetizer
Serves 4 as an entrée

2 tbs. olive oil
1 yellow onion, diced (1 ½ cups)
2 cloves garlic, chopped
2 carrots, chopped (1 cup)
4 stalks of celery, chopped (1 cup)
1 tbs. chopped fresh tarragon (plus more for garnish)
1 bunch of broccoli (3 crowns with stems/1 ½ pounds), cut into chunks
1 lg. Granny Smith apple, peeled and chopped (2 cups)
½ cup dry white wine
4 cups water
½ cup slivered blanched raw almonds
salt
1 tsp. pink peppercorns
crème fraîche for garnish (optional)

Gently warm the olive oil in a 4-quart pot over medium heat. Add the onions and garlic and a pinch of salt* and sauté until the onions are soft and translucent, stirring frequently. While the onions and garlic cook, wash and chop the carrots, celery, and tarragon. Add them to the soup pot along with another pinch of salt, and stir. Meanwhile, break the broccoli florets into bite-size chunks and peel and chop the broccoli stem and the apple. Add the broccoli and apple to the pot along with the wine, water, blanched almonds, and another pinch of salt. Cover and allow to simmer until the vegetables are soft, about an hour. Remove from the heat and purée in small batches in a high-powered blender. Aim for silky smooth. Add more salt as needed. Although the soup can be eaten immediately, the flavor improves after the ingredients have had a chance to marry. Either let the soup sit for 30 minutes before eating or make ahead and enjoy the following day. Garnish with a sprig of fresh tarragon and a sprinkle of pink peppercorns. A dollop of crème fraîche can also be added for extra richness and a delicious tang.

*Add a small pinch of salt as each batch of ingredients is added. This helps to layer the flavors. Add more as needed once the soup has been puréed.

The Infamous “If-Then Statement"

I frequently find myself turning my life into what they call in mathematics an “if-then statement.” If I have this, then I can do that. Unfortunately, however, life doesn’t always work that way. What if you can’t make the “if” part of the statement true? The second thing can’t follow, and instead you sit around waiting. I’m realizing that sometimes it’s worth just jumping ahead to the “then” part and savoring that experience regardless of whether or not it meets your original expectations.

Throughout my teens and twenties one of my favorite books was Samuel Beckett’s play, Waiting for Godot. I read it numerous times and even taught it to my advanced students when I was a French teacher. I suppose I kept reading and rereading the text because I wasn’t getting the message. It’s one thing to understand something intellectually, but it’s quite another to actually incorporate the lessons into your life. The play paints a desolate picture of two men who wait endlessly. Everything they do and every thought they have is focused on Godot’s imminent arrival. Nothing really happens because they’re too busy anticipating the future. And guess what? Godot never comes. What if instead of concentrating on “if he comes, then…,” they had taken it upon themselves to do something and make their own destiny?

There are—as I’ve written before—things in my life that I’ve put off while hoping for my fairytale ending. Sometimes, however, it’s not even big things. For instance, I’ve been thinking about joining a wine club. For a set fee, specially chosen wines are sent to you automatically either monthly or quarterly. In the back of my mind, though, I have to quell the nagging voice that says, Wait and do this when you’re married. There are also smaller things that get put off in anticipation of the “perfect” moment and have nothing to do with the fairytale ending. As crazy as it might sound, I’ve been saving a handful of embroidered dishtowels for five years because they seem too pretty to use. I’ve also been known to keep special dishes, foods, or wines for ages waiting for just the right occasion, which inevitably never seems to come. All of this is actually rather silly. Why not enjoy stuff now?

Mostly, however, I find myself putting off doing things because I don’t want to do them alone. Last weekend, for instance, I wanted to go apple picking but thought that it would be more fun to do with someone else. When I couldn’t find a friend to join me, I decided to go by myself, leaping over the “if” and going right to the “then.” I took my dog, Molly, and found an organic U-Pick apple farm nearby.

Notice my arm reflected in my sunglasses

The people at the apple farm were so friendly that they waved when my car pulled up. When I arrived at their check-in area, they gave Molly a bowl of water and handed me a basket for collecting apples. I ended up having the most splendid day. Molly was so excited to have free reign of the orchard that she actually pranced. I ate loads of crisp, delicious fruit straight from the tree and filled two enormous baskets with beautiful apples of all shapes, colors, and sizes. When I started to feel disappointed that there wasn’t anyone to take a photo of me enjoying this blissful day, I realized I could do that for myself too. I stretched out my arm, pointed the camera at my face, and smiled.

It turned out that I didn’t need to share the experience with anyone else. Molly was good company and because I was alone, I was able to really take in my surroundings and luxuriate in the day. It made me wonder how many experiences in my life I’ve missed out on while waiting for the “right” moment. Here’s to getting rid of the “if-then statement” and just going for it! 

Autumn Harvest Salad

Having picked over 20 pounds of apples last weekend, I’ve been enjoying eating them in a multitude of ways. I’ve made applesauce and a few crisps, but I’m especially excited about this salad. The combination of autumn ingredients is the perfect balance of salty, sweet, sour, and savory. You won’t want to stop eating this salad. It’s that good!

Serves 6

Salad:
1-6 oz. bag of baby spinach
1 cup very thinly sliced red onion (from half and onion)
½ cup dried cranberries
1 cup raw walnut halves
1 apple cored and thinly sliced apple (such as braeburn, which is sweet-tart and firm)
6 oz. crumbled blue cheese (about one cup)

Dressing:
Extra virgin olive oil
Aged balsamic vinegar
Salt and cracked black pepper

Toss the spinach with the red onion, cranberries, and walnuts. Add the apples and blue cheese and toss to combine. Dress with a simple vinaigrette made from extra virgin olive oil, aged balsamic vinegar, salt, and cracked pepper.