winter weekend

Digging in the snow, making ice wreaths, knitting in front of the fire, legos, popcorn ... what else should one winter weekend hold?

The weekend has been, and continues to be, lovely, it is true. And I am thankful for the very gifts these days have brought.  But I'm leery of a "today is all there is/seize the day" attitude, because today is not all there is. We live in eternity, but rather than feel panicked by that idea or narrowly focused on some conception of "end times," I feel freed to enjoy this day for what it is; time is made spacious. 

As Ann Voskamp says, "Maybe it isn't so much about carpe diem -- seize the day. Maybe it's about this: God uses the day to seize us. God carpe diems. God seizes the days: God seizes time and uses it as an instrument to transform. God seizes every moment to sculpt souls and shape lives and transform ashes into glory."

God uses every moment. Yes: the beautiful, ice and snow-filled ones, and the harder, headachy, teething, tearful ones. Because those moments were there too, this beautiful weekend. And so, in the variegated, silvery yarn I hold in my lap, in the tears of a child made beautiful in firelight, in the shining of the sun on snow crystals, I catch glimpses of poikilos, that many-colored grace of God, the grace that holds and redeems the gray and brown days as much as the brilliant, light-filled ones. May it be so for us. 

kung hai fat choi!

Almost one year ago, I leaned up against the railing of a Chinese junk on a New Year's boat cruise, and tried to soak in the view of Victoria Harbor with Hong Kong's crowded skyline as backdrop. It was a beautifully clear night, if a bit chilly, and we were enjoying an open bar and a steak dinner with friends, waiting for the fireworks display over our heads. I had a 3 month old at home (and an almost 3 year old), and we were both aching, I think, at the separation, though I didn't regret the experience at all, knowing how our lives were about to change. Matt had just barely begun the job search, and I remember wondering where we would celebrate the next Chinese New Year, knowing that wherever it was, it would be very different.

And different it was in many ways, but in others, not so much. We knew we wanted to somehow keep this celebration alive in our family. The great thing, however, about celebrating someone else's holiday is that there is absolutely no guilt or anxiety about having to do everything, or do it right. For instance, if it really was our holiday, then we would have to turn the house inside out with major spring cleaning, get everyone new clothes and wait in crazy long lines at the bank to procure fresh new bills for the lai see packets.

Instead, I got out our New Year decorations that conveniently pull the eye away from the dust, looked online to find a (hip hop!) lion dance up in Cleveland, and threw some chocolate squares in the red envelopes. There were no long lines to contend with, no displays of ferrero rocher candies everywhere you look, no flower market with its riotous beauty, no anxiety about how much lai see to give the doormen.

We debated having friends over or not, since it was to conclude Matt's monthly weekend on duty. But we did, and like always, I am so glad we did. Hospitality is a lot like exercise, I've decided. Rarely do you feel like you have the energy, but then the doing of it gives you far more energy and love than it takes.

We made pinwheels (the advantage of having an art teacher for a friend!), ate lots of food (egg tarts! I made egg tarts! They were easy, and I figured out a dairy-free, gluten free crust that was actually flaky), and then went outside with sparklers and a floating lantern. We felt blessed to have new friends to share this with, and happy that Chinese New year will continue to mean something to Finn. Even though I missed the flower market, my (indoors, forced) forsythia branches bloomed just in time. And though our little sparklers paled in comparison to Hong Kong fireworks, they were perhaps even more beautiful for the little hands that got to hold them.

All in all, it was an auspicious beginning to the Year of the Dragon, a down payment on what we can only hope will be a year of continued feasts with new friends, and more beauty than can be held in one's hand.

We're not starving.

Cumin and garlic scented carnitas, braised in their own juices, then made crispy in the rendered lard and piled on corn tortillas with avocado, cilantro and lime.
Cornmeal-battered fish sticks with corn muffins, oven fries, and coleslaw.
Mushroom risotto and roasted, brined chicken with crispy kale.
Roast beef, yorkshire pudding, and roasted root veggies.
Crepes with creamed spinach and prosciutto.
Steaming bowls of pho, filled with rice noodles, bean sprouts, rare sliced beef, cilantro, mint and lime.
Individual baked egg custards, rich with coconut milk and cinnamon.
Peanut butter rice krispy treats.

This doesn't sound like deprivation, does it? We're certainly not starving.

I can't say we've never eaten better, or that I don't miss soft runny cheese and a good baguette. But -- I can say, and say truly, that we've eaten better the past month than we have since moving to Ohio. School started, Matt's evening duties piled up, and pretty soon our evening meals were thrown together affairs that were fine, perfectly nutritious (and to be honest, probably better than most people's thrown together meals.) But there was little love put into the planning or execution of these meals, and the mealtime showed it. Oh, not that there was chaos or anything. But it perfectly coincided with a picky stage in Finn's eating journey, and so without our even realizing it, dinner was spent discussing how much Finn should eat of any particular food and how long he should stay at the table. And you know that once big brother has left the table, little sister isn't far behind.

But then. Then wheat and yeast had to make a speedy exit from our kitchen, and along went many of our quick meal standbys: ramen, pasta, sandwiches, french toast. And once I got serious about eliminating all the soy, most conveniences foods disappeared as well.

In truth, it's not a hard diet to follow. There are plenty of available foods out there. You just have to cook, and mostly from scratch.

That first night, I made pho, something we had eaten often in Hong Kong but rarely since coming home. And you know what? Matt and I couldn't stop exclaiming over it, Finn told me I made the bestest pho in the world and we all had second helpings. An hour later, we got up to start bath time. An hour later! Finn told us about preschool, Willa made us all laugh, and we felt like a family.
The next night, homemade fish sticks and oven fries and crispy kale accomplished the same miracle. We stayed at the table, we ate, we laughed.
It hasn't stopped. Forced to pour more energy and effort into the food we ate, that food transformed itself again at the table and became a harness, keeping us there, lingering, enjoying both the meal and each other.

It's an old story, really, and hardly unique. A story about restrictions inspiring creativity, and love changing mere food into a meal. You'd think I wouldn't be surprised by this, seeing as how I've studied and written about the many meanings food has in our lives, how often I've said that the best way to get kids to eat is just to cook good food and enjoy eating it yourself. You'd think that with culinary education and years of professional cooking I wouldn't let myself get into a rut. I know it sounds Pollyanna-ish to say this, but it's true: Willa's allergies have been a gift to us.

And as for the allergies themselves, well, eliminating those foods has been a gift as well. She is sleeping through the night for the first time in her life, and we are sleeping through the night for the first time in 15 months. A wonder, it is.

A few specific notes on gluten-free cooking, in case any of you face this, or want to bake for someone who does.
1. glutenfreegirl.com is my go-to site for recipes, ideas, information.
2. I actually do very little gluten-free baking. It's just easier to concentrate on everything that we can eat, like rice, oats, and corn, than worry about making substitutions.
3. The exceptions to this are quick breads, things like muffins, popovers, pancakes, and waffles. Thus far I have found that I can use gluten-free flour blends (like this one from KAF or this whole grain one) in all my regular recipes, without the addition of gums or other weird things, as long as I measure by weight, not volume. This does mean primarily sticking to KAF cookbooks, since they include weights in the recipes.
4. Lunch has been the hardest meal for me to figure out. This diet really requires cooking, and I'm used to cooking breakfast (oatmeal has been our standby for years) and dinner. But lunch has been for so long cheese and crackers, peanut butter sandwiches, or a cup of yogurt. And yes, there are many gluten free convenience foods out there, but since we also can't do soy, dairy and yeast it eliminates a lot. So I've started doing more "breakfasty" things at lunch--pancakes, waffles, eggs. I also make up extra pancakes and waffles and keep them in the freezer to use like bread for making sandwiches or little snacks.
5. Coconuts. This really pertains more to dairy free than gluten free, but can I just say that we might in fact be starving if not for coconuts? We use the oil for almost everything, but especially as a butter substitute when I want a solid fat for creaming. And we use the milk in everything too: mashed potatoes, smoothies, pumpkin pie, frosting, rice. And my best coconut success story: if you scrape the thick cream part off the top and chill it, you can whip it into something very like whipped cream, which goes a long way towards making Thanksgiving feel like Thanksgiving and Christmas feel like Christmas.

fourth candle

Well, here we are again, the fourth week of advent and I'm afraid that I've squandered this beautiful season of waiting and stillness by scurrying around, making, ordering, researching, doing. How hard it is for me to keep the quiet in this busy time! Perhaps I need to declare a fast from so much doing. What would it look like to simply not make gifts, nor decorations or cookies or holiday cards or any of those other things that I love so but end up costing too much in my spirit and my ability to move through these days slowly, calmly, open to any opportunities for hospitality and love? Of course balance is the answer, right? Not extremes. It's just that my balance always seems to be tilting toward busy, slipping towards more instead of less.

We found out last week that in addition to Willa's dairy allergy, she also can't have wheat, soy, yeast or chocolate. And this has set me reeling a bit ... trying to figure out how to feed her (and myself, as long as I'm nursing) without making separate meals, and with plenty of protein and fat and calories. It's necessarily taking quite a bit of time these days, thinking, planning, reading and learning. It will get easier, of that I'm confident, but for now it's a bit inconvenient, to put it mildly. (Inconvenient but totally worth it. She's already sleeping so much better and the thought that she's been in pain for the last 13 months is enough to make this baker gladly banish flour from her kitchen.)

So I'm letting go ... holiday cards this year will be New Year's greetings. Willa's Christmas presents will be done in January. Christmas cookies are just going to be different this year. (But hey--several of those cookies you all recommended as dairy free options are also flour-free. And there's always marshmallows!) Traveling will be a challenge. I'm figuring out which restaurants have gluten free options ... did you know that many fast food french fries are dipped in flour before being fried? And that soy sauce has wheat in it? Oy vey.

In the midst of all this scurrying and learning and trying to say no, it's good to remember Sunday's lectionary readings and hear of Mary, being told by an angel that she will bear the Savior of the world, and to hear her amazing, impossible "yes." Yes, she says, to public ridicule and shame, to disappointing and perhaps losing her betrothed, to swollen ankles and a sore back. Her advent wasn't easy either--nine months of pregnancy culminating in a donkey ride and labor in a stable. Her advent--and Christmas too--wasn't cozy and calm, one great feast of homemade goodies and twinkling lights. And if Christmas is about anything it's about God coming near, about learning to see God in the middle of our crazy days, in the midst of pain and sleeplessness and grief.

So maybe Advent doesn't have to be the rarefied season of stillness and quiet that I imagine.  Maybe it's ok for it to be busy and harried just as life so often is. God, after all, entered into human life just as it is, not as we want it to be. He envelops this world with love, says Padraig O Tuama, just as Mary swaddled her babe, just as we wrap our gifts.

So if you are up late addressing cards, wrapping presents, baking or traveling, if you are feeling stressed and tired and far too busy, I invite you to just embrace that busy-ness right now instead of bemoaning it. Look for God in the wrapping paper, in the flour bin, in the ever-ticking clock. Yes, let go wherever you can, simplify as much as possible, but then feel God's peace in the midst of the storm instead of waiting for the storm to be over. It's there, and you can carry that stillness with you as you go.

The peace of the Lord be always with you, my friends.

one woman's compost is another woman's pickle

Hmm. A title like that certainly sets me squarely within a certain demographic, doesn't it? Anyway, we've been doing a lot of it around here--canning, that is, and it hasn't been a bad thing at all. Au contraire ... I don't know when we'll get to have our own garden again, but when we do, it's going to be a pickling garden. Tomatoes, cucumbers, cabbage, a few peppers, onions and garlic. And some chilis. Should be just right for ketchup, tomato jam, pickles, saurkraut and kimchee.

Why am I telling you about all this now, you may ask, in the middle of advent, with snow on the ground? Well, besides my slowness at getting around to posting things, it is only recently that we have fully benefitted from having a store of canned items on the shelves. No fresh veg for tonight's dinner? No problem, grab some pickles and some kimchee and we'll call it good. Need some fruit for breakfast? Thank you, homemade applesauce!

But really it's because I've had numerous conversations lately about things like cloth diapers and homemade yogurt. Things that are daunting to consider when you haven't done them before, but that can be incorporated into a life such that they hardly feel like extra work. For me, canning was that thing that alternately attracted me and intimidated me. For years I've wanted to experiment with funky flavored jams and sauces, I've wanted the health benefits of lacto-fermented pickles, I've wanted to keep eating September's tomatoes into the spring. But oh, the botulism! The failed seals! The time in a hot steamy kitchen!

This fall I took the plunge, armed with my great aunt's canning jars and several books from the library. I read instructions over and over, I sanitized like crazy, I felt ridiculously proud over lids that popped just like they were supposed to. 

And you know what? It wasn't so bad. Not nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be. Just like anything, once you understand the process and have a system in place, what initially required huge effort gradually takes less and less, until the work slips easily into the rhythm of the day. Canning isn't going to become part of our weekly routine, like making bread and washing diapers is, but it will be part of our seasonal rhythms, the way we celebrate and take advantage of the harvest. So here's a little prod of encouragement--if there is something that you've wanted to change about your life, or wanted to experiment with--something like using cloth napkins instead of paper, or making your own granola for breakfast--well, there's nothing like doing it.

Want further instructions for the things I've mentioned?
Bread: No-knead is a good place to start.
Granola: Here's our current favorite recipe.
Yogurt: We use the instructions and process from The Frugal Gourmet Keeps the Feast, but there are plenty of directions online.
Diapers: Green Mountain Diapers is a great resource for information/washing instructions, and also a great source of reasonably priced diapers.

and the canning we did:
lacto-fermented pickles: instructions from Wild Fermentation.
tomato jam: recipe here.
ketchup: recipe from Well Preserved.
chili sauce: recipe also from Well Preserved.
watermelon rind pickles: recipe from My Mother's Southern Kitchen.

Rhythm of the Home

Just a quickie: I'm excited to tell you that I have a little piece in the winter edition of Rhythm of the Home. If you aren't familiar with it, it's a wonderful, seasonal resource for family crafts and activities. Check it out!

A few other things we're excited about around here:

:: An owl who lives somewhere in the neighborhood, and visits at night with his who-who-whooooting. Finn heard it on his own the other night, and was so thrilled he could hardly sleep. Plans are afoot for an owling adventure  ...

::Pork fat from our local egg farmer, rendered into lard! Not nearly as hard as I expected ... and oh, those cracklings are good snacks for a little girl who needs to gain weight. Now visions of pie crusts and fried chicken are dancing in my head.

::Putting together a list of dairy free cookies I can make this year. I'm a firm believer that Christmas cookies should be different than those made the rest of the year (no chocolate chip cookies!) ... but now they also need to be butterless and that's tough. No spritz, no russian teacakes. Here's what I'm thinking so far: both gingerbread and fruitcake bites will be fine with lard instead of butter, since they don't depend on butter for flavor. Fairy pillows (marshmallows) will once again make an appearance in my kitchen, as will almond clouds and chocolate covered pretzels. And I'm going to try a ganache with coconut milk for the fabulous layered peppermint bark. Any other thoughts?

::St. Nicholas visited our house today, for the second year now. I think it's a tradition we're going to stick with, just as a way to honor the man and the generosity that inspired Santa Claus. In our house, we read books and tell stories about him in the days leading up to Dec 6. And then the day itself is a day for getting (a new Christmas book and something handknit to keep warm) and a day for giving--the day we shop for toys that will be given to charity.

::and a little thought for you to inspire some quiet as you go through these busy days:

We can make our mind
so like still water
That beings gather about us
that they may see,
It may be, their own images,
and so live for a moment
With a clearer, perhaps even with
a fiercer life because of
our quiet.

source unknown, attributed to W.B. Yeats 

and so it begins ...

We're starting simply this year. Traveling over Thanksgiving meant I was surprised to walk into church on Sunday and find it was already Advent, a season that has become increasingly important to me. So we bought some greens, fashioned a wreath, sang a few songs, and lit that first candle. It was simple, and it felt just right.

I've been reading To Dance with God, by Gertrude Mueller Nelson, a book about incorporating the church's liturgical seasons into home and family life, and she has some profound things to say about Advent. Do you know the story about the origins of the advent wreath, that people took wheels off their carts and wagons and brought them inside, festooning them with light, making a clear statement that this cold, dark time is a different time, a time to turn inward rather than produce? Isn't that amazing? Think what it would mean if took a wheel off our car to use for a wreath ... it would be less a decoration than a discipline, a forced slowing down and simplification.

November was a tough month for us ... a month when the busyness of boarding school life threatened to wash over us, and we both felt like we were drowning. I'm still adjusting, I think, to the absence of Retchel. I knew I was spoiled in Hong Kong, having someone help even a few hours each week with child care, housecleaning and laundry. But knowing you are spoiled doesn't make it any easier to adjust to not being spoiled, and I just keep waiting for someone else to show up and fold the clothes. So we've talked, we've schemed, we devised some systems, and I think we're in a better spot now. Just having a plan does me so much good.

Anyway, in the midst of this, I kept reading about the importance of slowing down even when the pace of life picks up, about mindfulness and breathing. And while it's easy to pass it off as cliche mumbo-jumbo, I am here to tell you that it really does work. Literally slowing down my movements and my words, setting aside that never ending list, focusing on what is in front of me: a boy experiencing his first snow fall, a girl who needs help getting to sleep. Even when I can't slow down any of the outside commitments, physically moving more slowly and tangibly committing to do less each day still helps. My heart and mind stop racing, my breath gets deeper, and things seem manageable. This certainly isn't an "efficiency tip"--how to do more in less time--but I wouldn't be surprised if the final productivity tally was similar to moving through life hurried and rushed. I'm not counting, though.

And I'm not, it goes without saying, going to actually take a wheel off our car ... or our bike or stroller, for that matter. But I am going to move slowly. Be still and know that I am God. And even if that means that all we have for advent is our little wreath and a calendar, that's ok. (and a banner! We're still watching for light.) We don't need an elaborate devotional plan or a Jesse tree or even a Christmas tree just yet. We are keeping company with Mary, who waited and wondered 9 long months, and with all those who are waiting and longing for God to break into this world.

In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and trust shall be your strength.
May it be so for all of us.