Coffee again.... for External Use Only

Here in sunny southern California, I exercise outdoors everyday.  Walking, hiking and yoga in the sunshine.  My skin is tanner than it has been since I was a little girl, playing outside all day long in the summertime. But with the healthy-looking color comes the unfortunate side effect: dry, dry skin. There is no humidity in the air here, and as a result, I'm rubbing what seems like gallons of moisturizer onto my body to keep from shedding like a snake.

My dear friend, Dr. Margaret Henry, mentioned to me a remedy that she had heard about and tried. Coffee grounds mixed with olive oil, she said, would return my skin to baby softness. Intriguing. Since my husband makes coffee for himself every morning, I asked him to reserve the grounds for my experiment.

I took a wonton soup container full of coffeegrounds into the shower with me, sans oil. I just didn't want to have to slip and slide around the tub, or scrub that oil out when I was through. But I exfoliated my entire self with those coffee grounds, and when I was through, my skin felt miraculously soft! It had never felt better.

The shower, however,  had looked better. It looked as though I washed a muddy horse in there, but a quick spray with the hand-held showerhead cleared everything right up. Bonus: according to the internet, coffeegrounds down the drain help reduce odors and clogs.

Thanks to Margaret, my skin and my shower drain are in the best shape of their lives.

Summer Solstice simple slaw

Happy Summer! Even though most of the US had an unseasonably mild winter, the onset of summer is still a time for rejoicing. Celebration. Eating. Wearing tiny shorts and sundresses while eating. Eating outdoors in skimpy clothes. I want to look and feel good this summer. Rather than eating heavy, fattening, mayonnaise-drenched salads, I prefer my foods fresh and light.

Here's my low-fat, lickety-split summer slaw recipe that is loaded with nutrients. Eat it in your cutest sundress while relaxing in the warmth.

SIMPLE SUMMER SLAW

One head cabbage, shredded (or one bag shredded cabbage)
One cup shredded carrots
1/4 cup rice vinegar or raw apple cider vinegar
2 tsp raw agave nectar or maple syrup
sea salt, to taste
two tablespoons raisins, OPTIONAL

Combine all ingredients in large bowl. Mix thoroughly. Enjoy.

I'm Back, Stress-Free

Since I last posted here a long, long time ago, my life has changed drastically. Due to my husband being laid off from his job of 20 years, we had six months of complete uncertainty. He launched a six-month, nationwide job search while we emptied and prepared our 4-story, 100 year old home for sale. While he hunted for a new job, I began a one-year professional training course in Health Coaching at the Institute for Integrative Nutrition.

A giant, damaging hurricane and a freak October snowstorm added to the chaos. I had to say goodbye to the home in which I'd raised my four children, our close-knit neighborhood, dear homeschooling friends of many years, and my loving Italian/Portuguese family (who believe that grown children should live next door to their parents).

We relocated clear across country, 3,000 miles away from NJ to a tiny, temporary 2 bedroom corporate apartment in sunny California with two of my sons, my sister, and our cat Roxy. We luckily sold our house, in a down market, with the help of our wonderful realtor/friend and a relocation company. Soon after a long, arduous househunt, we moved into a more permanent house, adding my sister's two cats to the mix.

My sister found a great apartment for herself and her kitties after the new year. I graduated from IIN and received independent certification from AADP (American Association of Drugless Practitioners) as a Holistic Health Coach.

My daughter recently finished her third year of college, remaining on the east coast, and my 19 year old son returned to the fold, joining us in our LA suburb.

What is the point of all of this? To share that I'm back! And more importantly, unstressed! During all the tumult, the upheaval, the sad goodbyes, and the uncertainty about where we'd be living, I remained fairly calm. I enjoyed the process, accepting that change is the universe's default setting. Everything is constantly in motion, and once I learned to go with the flow, I felt remarkably at peace.

So now that I'm back, expect more posts about letting go of stress, being happy, and finding the fun in things.  I wish you all a stress-free, ever-changing life.

How Asparagus Made my Day

In an effort to clear up my speckly white skin spots, I am eating a diet of mostly green vegetables. I have eliminated some favorite foods from my diet: breads, potatoes, pasta, sauces, condiments, tempeh, sauerkraut, most fruits, most nuts, mushrooms, sugars, and most grains. Eating isn't that much fun right now. But I have found a simple, joyful, delightful stalk that makes me squeal. For real.

A delightful stalk that made me squawk. A joyful sprig that made me dance a jig. A delicious spike whose taste I like.

With only 3 ingredients and a few minutes under broil in the oven, asparagus brightened my whole day. The secret to the grandest green is: drizzle some melted extra virgin coconut oil over tiny asparagus stalks, and sprinkle with sea salt. Broil.

Joy. Pleasure. Happiness. Asparagus.

Added bonus: the kids love it this way too.

How Earl Grey Tea may have turned me into a Cougar (or a Leopard, or a Cheetah or another spotted cat)

The Earl of Grey seduced me away from my former lover. I had a tumultuous love affair with Coffee. Dark, exotic coffee had a Latin accent and always smelled delicious. I knew he was trouble but I couldn't get enough of him. I became addicted to him. When I was with Coffee, I sensed he always wanted more of me. It wasn't enough to spend a little time together in the morning. He was so needy, expecting me to drink him all in, wanting more and more of my time and attention. And Coffee didn't give me my own space. He crowded me. Everywhere I went, there he was. At the gas station. The supermarket. Even at the ice cream shop. I became so dependent on Coffee, I even took him with me for rides in the car. Concerned friends could see how Coffee was changing me -- I couldn't sleep, I was restless -- and they warned me to drop him cold turkey. I had to face facts: our relationship was dysfunctional.

When I finally summoned the strength to leave him, I was a mess. I cried for two weeks. My head felt as though someone took an ax to the center in an attempt to split my skull in half. I had trouble getting out of bed in the morning. But, gradually, I began to feel like myself again.

I could once again enjoy an afternoon gathering with friends or a night out at a restaurant without worrying about whether Coffee would ruin it. That was when The Earl of Grey first caught my eye.

Looking back now, I now see that I was still vulnerable. The Earl was my rebound. Smarting from the breakup with Coffee, I sat alone on cold mornings, couldn't join friends at Starbucks for a meeting. And then there was the Earl: polite, gentlemanly, patient. He didn't pursue me like Coffee did, waiting at every street corner. Earl was different. Earl Grey Tea was content for me to come to him in my own time, which I did.

And in a way, I grew to love the Earl. It was a comfortable relationship, not too demanding or intense. I genuinely liked him and the way he made me feel. We had a quiet understanding. He calmly sat with me on winter afternoons while I read or wrote, making no demands. Earl had a pleasant demeanor. He warmed me on chilly days but never made me feel guilty when I wasn't available. But now, in the sunny summer, I see the damage that Earl Grey Tea caused. With the rest of my skin tanned, I have tiny white speckles on my shoulders and chest. I look like a wild jungle cat. With the Earl sitting right by my side, I researched the white skin spots on the internet and discovered that the Oil of Bergamot that makes him so appealing can cause permanent skin damage.

That was the last I saw of Earl. It was much easier to say goodbye to him than to Coffee, and at least he took it like a gentleman.

Parenting Experts?

I have been parenting since before that was even a verb. We didn't parent 20 years ago, we just had kids and took care of them. Parent was a noun. Because we had no internet and no cell phones when my daughter was born, I relied on plenty of experts when I faced troubles. Baby couldn't sleep? Read T. Berry Brazelton. Nursing troubles? Call the hospital's nursery hotline. Locating an expert often involved a trip to the library, questions of the research librarian, perusal of periodicals and sometimes long distance phone calls. It sounds so romantic and quaint now but it was terribly time consuming.

With newer and faster technology came the ability to retrieve information instantly. And there were loads of people lined up to provide this information. Gone were the days of requiring old-fashioned things like "credentials" and "education." The anonymity of the internet, and the change from books to inexpensive e-publishing contributed to today's new parenting experts. Today, anyone with a keyboard and internet access can call himself an expert. Turning expertise completely upside down, it is the act of writing a book which creates an expert, rather than the other way around.

Among some of the newest experts on the topic of raising children are Alex and Simon (Silex) of Real Housewives of New York infamy. According to Simon's website, their brand new book is a he said/she said look at how these Brooklyn parents are raising their two boys. I have seen several episodes of this reality television show and not once have I thought to myself "Wow, those two are super parents. I hope they write a book." Watch for yourself and see. Never mind that neither parent has any background in child development, yet they published with confidence a book about raising children. In an interview with Time Out magazine, Alex was quoted as saying,

"I don’t think anyone out there is a parenting expert. Nobody’s got all the answers and it’s silly to pretend that anyone does."

Just because someone doesn't believe in experts doesn't mean they don't exist. To paraphrase a line from the film The Santa Clause, you may never have seen a million dollars but you know that it exists. Of course, I don't pretend to be a million dollars just because you may not know what it looks like.

Dictionary.com defines expert as "a person who has special skill or knowledge in some particular field; specialist; authority." The term expert does not imply that one possesses all of the answers to life's questions. Skills, knowledge, and even experience used to contribute to expertise. Is this no longer true? I long for the days when authorities read books and studied a topic.

I recently attended a workshop about parenting vegan kids, which was right up my alley! I hoped to pick up some tips, ideas, new recipes for my 12 and 15 year olds. The two sweet and lovely speakers each had only one child: one four year old and one infant! A parent of one breastfeeding baby was acting as an authority on vegan parenting. One year olds can't even say no. I actually found the advice adorable, in the same way I chuckled when I heard the mom of a toddler exasperatedly sigh "Potty training is the hardest part of parenting." Any parent who has raised children through best friend breakups, first loves, learning to drive, and college admission may think that bigger challenges lie ahead.

And while I'm on the subject of parenting challenges, I am wary of mommies carrying babes-in-slings spouting their homeschool philosophies. Not that they aren't entitled to have such philosophies, but until their children reach (at minimum) school age, their opinions are best kept quiet. As a homeschooler of 4 entering my 15th year, I just roll my eyes childishly when I hear a mom of a toddler lecture others about the best educational method.

Ah, but those good old days. Just remembering all those quaint styles of the late last century, such as grunge music, Thelma and Louise, and Bruce Willis with hair makes me nostalgic. But I suppose there's no turning back time. Just this week, scientists (experts in the field of science) proved that time travel is in fact impossible. So I must learn to live in this century of self-proclaimed parenting experts who have almost ONE entire year of experience. I can only hope that I don't run into any parenting issues more difficult than potty training.

Vegetables You May As Well... Keep Eating

While waiting for my tea to steep several mornings ago, I like millions of others, turned to the internet. On Yahoo's homepage, I saw a headline, "Vegetables You May As Well Skip" (Amy Paturel, Self magazine, July 13, 2011). Wow, I thought. That is a bold headline at a time with record-breaking obesity rates and new governmental guidelines recommending more fruits and vegetables in the daily diet. I clicked on the headline and was directed to the article in Self Magazine.

I respect the author's good intentions, and concede that perhaps Self Magazine readers are the type who will accept her recommendations to eat the most nutrient-dense vegetables available. But I suspect that in the wider internet audience that there are more people: college students, people on low budgets, the unadventurous, and fast-food lovers, who will instead hear the advice as permission to stop eating pesky, worthless vegetables completely.

The first offender was celery. Its offense: low vitamin content. Its appeal: crunch, low calories, high water content. Celery is a convenient, high-fiber dip delivery system. Celery's crevice is the perfect place to fill with peanut butter. In soups, stews, and curries, celery is a flavor staple alongside onions and garlic. Yet the recommendation was to skip celery and eat carrots instead. True, carrots are loaded with beta-carotene. They are also tasty in dip. But carrots are higher in natural sugars than celery. Eating a variety of different colors is a healthy way of getting nutrients, and there is a reason dips are often served with both celery and carrots. They complement each other. Is there some reason we can't eat both?

The second offender: the cucumber. The offense: low vitamin content. The appeal: crunchy, refreshing, easy-to-find. The cucumber was the protagonist in a risque book comparing itself to a man (and coming out the winner). Though not as dark green as kale or nutrient-dense as spinach, cucumbers are not a waste of time. Their mild taste appeals to children. Spread with hummus or tossed into a salad, cucumbers add fiber and few calories. They are readily available, even found in convenience stores. People without access to whole natural food markets have no trouble buying them. As a snack, cucumbers are healthier than trans-fat laden crackers or chips. But the laughable alternative to cucumbers mentioned in this article was purslane. Go back and read that sentence again if you need to. Purslane.

Where cucumbers are abundant, purslane is the opposite. As an experiment, take a survey of the first five people you encounter, asking them to describe purslane. Could a majority correctly identify it as an exotic weed with smooth reddish stems, tiny alternate leaves and yellow flowers? I agree that purslane's omega 3's, Vitamin A and Vitamin C are superior. Realistically, the likelihood of my 18-year old son or his friends replacing cucumbers in their diets with purslane is nil. More than likely, he would eschew the cucumber at the salad bar and go for a bread stick instead.

The third, and perhaps least respected vegetable offender: iceberg lettuce. The offense: being the American cheese of vegetables, and maybe sinking the Titanic. The appeal: tasty on burgers and sandwiches, sold as salad in fast food joints and diners, recognizable. Ideally, Americans would all replace their iceberg lettuce with darker, healthier romaine. But I fear that after reading about iceberg's apparent lack of nutrients, Americans will choose a side of fries over a side salad. That is definitely not an improvement.

Advertising messages bombard us loudly and constantly to eat high-calorie, high-fat, salty, sugary, processed junk foods. My little blog voice is a whisper in comparison, but I would like to shout that EATING CELERY AND CUCUMBERS IS FINE!

Enjoy your celery, cucumbers and iceberg. Eat them with gusto as part of a diet rich in varied fruits and brightly colored vegetables. I am off to find a bunch (bushel? peck?) of purslane.

Harry Potter and The End of An Era

Julia looked around her cleared out bedroom, threw an overstuffed plaid duffel bag over her shoulder, and grabbed the last book of the Harry Potter series to re-read in the car. This was the day we moved her into her dormitory at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst for the first time. She tossed her curly red hair and rushed past me. I said, "Jul, I haven't read that one yet." She responded, "Can't you read it on Kindle?" Biting my lip, I tried not to cry. I snuggled up to her face, standing on tiptoes, and instead of kissing her cheek, blew a raspberry on it like I did when she was a toddler. She scrunched her nose and giggled, like she did then. Only this time she was humoring me, knowing how dreadfully I would miss her. My firstborn was leaving home, taking with her a huge hunk of my life.

That was two years ago. Now Tommy, 18, is counting down the days until he moves across the country to begin work as a personal trainer.

When Julia was 8 years old, Tommy was 6. We had been homeschooling for two years already. 3 year old Anthony and newborn Jack required most of my time and attention. So when I had heard about a book about a young wizard named Harry Potter, I splurged on the hardcover at once. Wanting to give attention to all four children, I read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone aloud from the rocking glider while I nursed the baby each night. Julia and Tommy sat rapt as Harry learned that his parents who had been killed when he was an infant were both wizards. Potter was invited to attend Hogwarts, an academy for wizard children. Locked up under the stairs each night, Harry was unaware that an owl was delivering him invitation after invitation to attend the school. Despite his muggle (human) aunt and uncle's attempts to destroy every correspondence, Harry was personally visited by Headmaster Dumbledore and Hagrid, a sweet giant, who escorted him to Hogwarts. Julia and Tommy appreciated the story more than the little ones. Bravely, they did not fear the evil villain Voldemort as much as they did Harry's nasty aunt and uncle. On the rare night that I was too tired to read, Julia and Tommy refused to allow my husband to take over, because "Mommy knows how to do all the voices." Thankfully, this was before they had heard the audiobooks, which utilized authentic Scottish accents in addition to British. My Hagrid sounded slightly like he was from Alabama.

The following year, we took a family trip to Europe, traveling between countries European-style on the train. To pass the tedious hours and to keep everyone relatively quiet, I read aloud from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Rowling's second book, while my husband walked the aisles with toddler Jack. Harry discovered his special talent of speaking with snakes when he communicated with a python through the glass in a zoo enclosure. Several days later during a visit to Paris' Parc Zoologique, Julia and Tommy whispered to the snakes through the glass, attempting to recreate the scene. To my immense relief, neither spoke parceltongue.

Book Three was released on the day we held a garage sale. Tommy and I took a break from haggling over prices to buy the book immediately. I started reading it as soon as the last customer had handed over their quarter. I read until I was hoarse. All of us worried together about the ominous Sirius Black hunting Harry, until we discovered that he was actually Harry's godfather, and we dreaded the dark, soul-sucking dementors. When playing together, Julia, Tommy and Anthony frequently called "Expelliarmus!" on each other, putting a spell on each other which caused them to drop their imaginary wands. We talked about the world of Harry and Hogwarts as if it were real, while going about our mundane muggle errands like food shopping.

Harry, and his friends Ron and Hermione became family friends. Harry's first girlfriend Cho coincided with Julia becoming a teenager. She was as interested in this new facet of Harry's life as she was in her own. Still children, the boys noticed a difference in their sister. Julia, Harry, and the Hogwarts gang were changing.

As each book came, even though the children were perfectly capable of reading it independently, they waited for me to read it to them aloud. Book 4 was long enough to keep everyone's interest during a 6-hour plane delay at a French airport. In fact, we even attracted other weary travelers who surrounded us as I read.

When she was fourteen, Julia picked up the original book and read it silently for the first time. It was the first book she ever actually enjoyed, she said. She devoured each successive book again and again, as did Tommy. By the time Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince (6) arrived, I read the book to just Anthony each night. Tommy read it independently on the day of release. At the end of the book, when Dumbledore died, Anthony and I wept.

Book 7 arrived to much fanfare, as we all knew it was to be the final in the series. Harry Potter would graduate from Hogwarts and go off into the wide wizard world on his own. This was the last time we would spend with Harry, the Weasleys and beloved Hagrid. Julia finished the book first, then Tommy, then Anthony. I never read it. Reading it to myself seemed lonely. I was not ready to say goodbye to Harry and the gang.

Each of these books was turned into a film, and tomorrow night is the opening of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part 2, the very last one. As always, Julia, Tommy and Anthony have tickets to the 12:01 showing. For the first time, Jack and I will attend with them. As sad as I was to take Julia to college, and to say goodbye to Tommy, I actually read the book this past weekend. It was time for me to face it: this part of our lives is over. Like Harry, Tommy and Julia must go off to begin their own, independent lives. Even if I had destroyed their acceptance letters like Harry's aunt and uncle (why didn't I think of that???), Julia and Tommy would grow up. They wouldn't need me to homeschool them, or read aloud to them, forever. It is what I and my husband always wanted for them, and how it is supposed to be. I am proud that they are moving away from the tight homeschooling community into a larger world, but I am not ready to close the book on them, or Harry. I look forward to reading these books to my future grandchildren.

A New Endeavor: Tell it To Lynne Lisa

I used to joke that I had an invisible sign on my forehead that said, "Tell me your problems," because strangers everywhere seem drawn to me. While I was chaperoning a field trip at the extremely crowded viewing platform at the top of the Empire State Building, a security guard honed in on me to alleviate the pain his two children (a girl and a boy) experienced during his difficult divorce. And there was that time while I waited for the single restroom in a cafe on 9th Avenue that a burgeoning actress asked my advice about whether I thought she needed a personal manager yet. So intent was she on getting my response (a complete stranger, merely waiting for a restroom), that she waited for me to finish and followed me to the counter while I ordered my salad. (My answer was "do you think you need a manager at this point in your career?" She immediately decided no, she wasn't ready. Another satisfied customer).

It used to feel like a burden on me, every time I left the house, having to bear so many strangers' troubles. But at some point I began to embrace it, realizing that there must be something about my face or demeanor which invites personal disclosures. Talking to people is always enjoyable for me. I love hearing about people's interests, jobs, families, and lives. If I can help someone by offering an ear, it makes my day.

Which brings me to my new endeavor: I have begun a course of study at the Institute for Integrative Nutrition in order to become a Holistic Health and Wellness Coach. Soon I will be able to assist people with their health and lifestyle choices legitimately. I will even be able to practice sitting down, not leaning against rest room walls and guard rails.

I look forward to meeting new people and hearing their stories. Hopefully, I'll be able to assist them in achieving health and happiness. In the meantime, I will be blogging more frequently about my journey.

Thanks for reading! Have a great day.

Unschooling on Vacation in Florida Part 1

The term "vacation" doesn't really apply to unschoolers, who are not regimented into a time schedule or specific learning space. But since our family has just returned from five weeks in Florida, and English doesn't have a better term for that kind of sojourn, I'll just call it a vacation.

What always amazes me is how much one can learn simply by stepping out of the everyday routine. We did not design an educational field trip. This trip was a celebration of my parents' 50th wedding anniversary. They invited my husband, my sons, and me to spend the month of February with them in sunny, warm Florida to get out of the frigid northeast winter. They rented a house off the internet in Jensen Beach on the Atlantic Coast and we just planned on being with my parents, hanging out by the pool, and playing on the beach.

We took this trip in stages. My younger sons, 11 and 14, and I left freezing NJ the last weekend in January, driving towards Florida. First stop: friends in Catonsville, Maryland (outside Baltimore). Aside from visiting with my delightful friends, we wandered through music stores and toured Baltimore. We spent half a day at the acclaimed National Aquarium, wandering from rainforest to arctic, then cheering on the trained dolphins as they leapt and splashed.

Leaving Monday morning, I drove south, watching our car's outdoor thermometer slowly creep up from 29 degrees in Maryland, to 36 in southern Virginia, and finally a balmy 56 when we stopped for the night in Charleston, South Carolina. The boys and I ditched our warm wool socks and left our winter coats in the car.

The following day we arrived in Jensen Beach, Florida where the temperature was 79 degrees! The home my parents rented was unbelievably large, beautifully decorated and filled to the gills with original artwork! At dinner, we discussed the quantity of the paintings on the walls, which sparked the boys to estimate how many. Younger son guessed 45. Older son thought the number was much higher, in the 70s. My parents thought there might even be 80. After dinner, the boys carefully counted every painting hanging in each room of the house, including the outdoor bathroom and discovered that everyone had guessed too low: 106 paintings! Most of them were done by Cuban artists. Fascinating. Surrounded by all this art, we felt as though we were living in a very comfortable museum. Along with the art were many books about Cuba, art, and antiques.
The patio housed the swimming pool and spa, and backed up to a nature sanctuary where many nature birds nested and fed. The boys photographed pelicans, cranes, and even a bald eagle.

And they swam! Living in NJ and having no pool, we don't have many opportunities to swim.
Little guy set a goal: by the end of the month he'd like to be able to swim 25 laps. Day One he swam three laps.

If you are keeping track, by the time we had spent one day in Jensen Beach, the boys had covered science, social studies, art, math, and physical education.

To Be Continued...

Infusing Foods with Magic and Love

I've just finished reading a novel combining the sensuality of cooking with romance, called The Cookbook Collector by Allegra Goodman. In the book, Jess (a vegan) pores over a collection of centuries-old cookbooks while falling in love with the curmudgeonly book dealer. Those ancient cookbooks relied on description and hand-drawn illustration, pre-dating mathematical measurements. Interspersed with the recipes, Jess found love poems using the words from the recipes written by the original owner. This book reminded me of the magical realism in 1989's Like Water for Chocolate. In that story, Tita sickened an entire wedding party when her tears of sadness over her lost love fell into the wedding soup. What do they have in common? Magic and love.

As a vegan cook, I am frequently asked what I use to substitute for animal products in my dishes. My usual half-joking response is "magic and love." As I think more about it, I discover that magic and love are the additives that turn all combinations of ingredients into meals. The alchemy that turns flour, oil and sugar into a fluffy, light cupcake is magical. But that is only one half of the equation. The best, most delicious foods are infused with love. I know it sounds new-agey hippy dippy, but I have anecdotal evidence that this works.

Last summer at Camp Common Ground, a vegetarian family camp in Starksboro, Vermont, I experienced this principle first hand working in the kitchen. Every afternoon at 4:30, I arrived to help cook and serve dinner for the other 130 campers. The rest of the kitchen staff, Karyl Kent, the coordinator, and Naomi, the head dinner cook, had been hard at work for hours. The instant I arrived, I was greeted with enormous smiles, hugs, and kisses. The vibe in that kitchen was all love. Some days, music poured from an ipod in the corner and there was singing. Some days, no music played but there was still singing.

Every night's meals began with whole grains and the freshest, most colorful locally-grown vegetables . Our bread was baked daily in camp's outdoor brick oven by Isaiah, a student of Qi Gong and truly loving person. Even campers who eschew carbohydrates in their daily lives could not resist Isaiah's hand-crafted sourdough loaves.

Naomi's expertise was preparing raw bright, crisp greens. She crafted healthy, delicious salads that were so tasty, people filled their plates again and again. Her secret was to massage the greens, infusing them with her positive energy and love.

Inspired by the vibe in Camp Common Ground's kitchen and Naomi's techniques, here is a simple kale salad that I make at home. I have purposely left off the measurements because in this recipe, intention and technique are more important than amounts. (Also, it feeds much fewer than 130 people.) Feel free to toy around with the dressing amounts until you are satisfied with the salad.

Asian Massaged Kale Salad
2 bunches crisp raw kale, washed
fresh ginger, diced fine
sesame oil
apple cider vinegar with mother
soy sauce
maple syrup
cayenne pepper
(raw almonds, raisins) optional

Whisk ginger, oil, vinegar, soy sauce and maple syrup and pepper together. Taste, adjust accordingly. With clean hands, pour dressing over kale. Massage well, until kale looks darker and slightly wilted. Add optional almonds and raisins. Allow to sit and marinate for at least 30 minutes before eating.
Serve alongside your favorite tofu recipe or a bowl of miso soup.

Sun-dried Tomato Hummus

I've been snowed in for several days with my husband and my kids, so I have been making lots of food. In addition to baking bread, I've had my crockpot churning out lentil and rice, marinara sauce simmering on the stove, and pasta boiling. But sometimes we all just want to grab a snack or make a sandwich, for which I made my simple sun-dried tomato hummus. It reminds us a little bit of pizza, it's that good. We spread it on bread, dip crackers into it, and wrap it up in romaine leaves.

Sun-Dried Tomato Hummus

1 15 oz. can chick peas
1/4 cup tahini
juice of 1/2 lemon
1 clove garlic
3 tbsp olive oil
water
2 tsp salt
7 sun-dried tomatoes, drained
1/2 tsp dried oregano
1/2 tsp dried basil

Combine chick peas, tahini, lemon juice, garlic, olive oil and salt in food processor until smooth. If lumpy, add water a tablespoon at a time and pulse until desired consistency. Add sundried tomatoes, oregano and basil and process again until smooth.

Garnish with: fresh basil leaf, slice of fresh tomato, chopped black olives, or chopped garlic.
Will last in refrigerator for several days.

Olive Rosemary Bread for my new Breadmaker

For Christmas, I received a bread maker. I can't for the life of me explain why I have never gotten one before. Seven people live in this house, and we all eat a lot of bread. Better late than never, I suppose.

My first attempt at bread failed. After that, I followed directions ex-act-ly from recipes I found on the internet for vegan breadmaker breads. No substitutions. No experiments. My results were much better for plain whole wheat, white, and oat loaves.

Feeling confident, I decided to use the same ratios of liquids-to-solids for the breads I'd already made and try my hand at an original olive-rosemary bread. While it was baking, the herbs scented the whole house. It turned out better than I had hoped. The kids couldn't wait to cut into it, but after an initial taste, I held them off long enough to snap a photo.

Lynne's Recipe for Olive and Rosemary Bread-maker bread (yields large 1/12 - 2 lb loaf)

1 1/2 c plus 2 tbsp.warm water
4 Tbsp. olive oil
3 tsp sugar
3 tsp salt
3/4 tsp ground black pepper
3 1/2 c bread flour
2 1/2 tsp yeast
1/2 tsp dried rosemary
1/2 tsp dried oregano
1/4 tsp dried basil
1/2 c chopped pitted kalamata olives

Put in water, oil, sugar, salt, pepper, flour in order (or in manufacturer-suggested order). Make a well with finger in center of flour. Add yeast. Set machine for "white" or "basic" and "medium" crust. Start machine. After approximately 40 minutes ("rise"), add rosemary, oregano, basil and olives. Make sure all ingredients are added in (use rubber spatula to scrape any off sides or bottom).

Let cool. Slice. Serve with olive oil, balsamic vinegar, or sun-dried tomato hummus.

I Believe in You

In Tina Fey’s fourth Emmy acceptance speech, she self-deprecatingly credited her parents. “I want to thank my parents for somehow raising me to have confidence that is disproportionate with my looks and abilities. Well done. That is what all parents should do.” Tina Fey entered the precarious, male-dominated field of comedy. Her parents could have discouraged her. They could have told her she wasn't pretty enough, or talented enough, or that the field was simply too hard to enter.

My own intelligent 20 year old daughter, Julia, could succeed as a diplomat, an international business leader, and a network executive. Her work ethic is unparalleled and she has a multitude of skills and knowledge. She has a 3.8 at the University of Massachusetts with a double major. Her plan: to be a Disney princess! This is the same dream she had when she was four.

Is it a parent’s role to unconditionally support a child’s decisions? Or is it the parent’s responsibility to protect the child from making mistakes? I think it is my role to unconditionally support the decisions, regardless of my opinion of them.

Truthfully, I am nervous for her. It is possible that she won't make the cut. Maybe she will get a role but won't make enough money to pay her bills. I could tell her “That’s a frivolous career. You are too smart, serious, studious for that. Try engineering like Dad. Try accounting like your grandfather.” But I keep it to myself. To her, I say, “You’ll be an excellent princess. Let’s research how you can get a job in a Disney theme park."

There are plenty of people willing to squash a young person’s dreams. In the field of acting, there are legions of agents, casting directors, and other actors whose sole purposes seems to be to strip an actor of dignity and hope. There are well-meaning, loving people in my family, two of whom raised me (whose identity shall remain cleverly disguised), who helpfully encourage my children to pursue careers they view as more practical. But things have changed in our economy since their heyday in the 1960s. Prestigious careers of old no longer exist. Attorneys discourage their children from attending law school. Doctors warn to steer clear of medicine. All I know with certainty is that I will not know what careers will exist in five years. New careers crop up regularly. Just because we are adults does not mean we are clairvoyant. I can’t see the future. I can only see my bright, optimistic children, growing into adults.

Tina Fey’s parents could have suggested that Tina become a math teacher. Tina would still have loved them and probably thanked them in her acceptance speech. But they believed in their daughter’s ability to make her dreams come true. As a result, Tina has risen to the top in a fiercely competitive field. Against all odds, she is the Emmy-award winning creator, writer, and star of a successful network television show.

As a mother, I don’t have to believe in my children’s dreams. I have to believe in my children. There will always be well-meaning friends and relatives to burst their bubbles. I want to be the person who always, always has confidence in them. I hope if any of my kids ever win an Emmy, they will thank me for my unrelenting belief that they would make it.

On the 5th day of juice fast my stomach takes to the stage

Saturday was Day 5 of my green juice fast. I woke up to a very grumbly sound and realized that it was coming from inside me. Disturbed, I jumped out of bed to juice some carrots, kale and cucumber and drank it speedily. Rather than quieting the growl, the juice only seemed to feed the beast. It had somehow gotten louder, filling the entire kitchen. All day the grumbling, growling, roaring followed me around the house while I did my chores and even accompanied me on my errands.

Saturday evening, my 13 year old son and I had tickets to see an off-Broadway play entitled "In the Heat of the Night." I hoped that my loud digestive system would not disturb the two people unfortunately seated on either side of me. When we arrived at 59E59, we discovered that the theatre was an intimate black box. All the action took place in the squared off area, and we audience sat surrounding the square. My seat was in the first of the two rows on the corner from which actors passed to enter the stage. Before the show, we were informed to silence cell phones, unwrap candies, and note that if we needed to leave the theatre for any reason, we would not be allowed re-entry. It was a quiet show, one without much music, sound effects or any props, in a small, enclosed space. My grumbling continued. I glanced around, looking to see whether there was a reaction from the man sitting next to me. So far, he amazingly managed not to notice. As the show progressed, the tension mounted. The murder mystery with racist
At a particularly intense moment, a police officer took down to his knees a murder suspect and cuffed him at my feet. Then the two actors froze in that pose as other actors across the stage had dialogue. "Glurg, grrrr, roarrrrr," filled my ears. Head one foot from me, at lap level, the actor had to try hard not to react to the incredibly strange noises emitting from my gut. But I could see him looking quizzically at me. I shrugged and tilted my head, aimed at the quiet man to my right, as if it were HIS ridiculously loud innards creating havoc.

Fortunately, I was not removed from my seat. The show was outstanding. I highly recommend it. See it on a full stomach, it will save you embarrassment.

Juice Fast Day 2

The second day of my first juice fast has ended. Hunger set in yesterday evening, while I cooked dinner for the family. This experiment would work much better if I didn't have to prepare meals all day long. I stir-fried broccoli, cabbage, carrots, onions, and romaine lettuce together in a garlic soy sauce and scooped it over red quinoa. As a side dish, I served an Asian style salad made from crumbled uncooked ramen noodles and julienned cabbage and carrots with ginger/soy/maple syrup dressing.

Back to me. Not eating. I suppose this would be a good place to disclose that I Love To Eat! Food is a large part of my life. I like to buy food, prepare food, talk about food and eat food. This is the first time I've ever fasted in my whole life, mostly because I never felt like giving it up before. Day Two was the first day of the realization that I can live without eating.

Fortunately, I really enjoy the taste of juice. I'm also enjoying trying new combinations and flavors. After dropping off my sons for their bowling league, I ran to the supermarket for supplies. I bought a ripe watermelon, a cantaloupe, a cucumber, a tomato, some extra celery and carrots, a cabbage, and some more romaine. For "lunch," I had a romaine, cucumber, celery, tomato juice. It was a little too acidic for my tastes but gave me the energy to talk a nice long walk in the sun before the boys returned. Besides the juice, I am focusing on getting fresh air, sunshine, and exercise everyday as well. After my walk, I felt exhausted. The boys returned home and were playing in the yard, so I lay on a blanket in the grass and took a short nap in the sun. This may have been my first nap since babyhood.

At dinnertime, I drank a delicious juice of watermelon and cucumber. After dinner, and I'm not blaming the watermelon, I became very cranky. The schedule required me to drive back and forth to two different martial arts studios in two different directions, one after the other, then come home and supervise kitchen clean up and math work. But apparently, no one was in the mood to clean up the kitchen or do any math. And the last thing I wanted to do was put away the leftover food I had spent the afternoon alternately preparing and avoiding. The scene went something like this:

me: "Clean up the kitchen, boys,"
boys: "I thought you said you wanted us to do math."
me: "I wanted you to do your math earlier so you could clean up the kitchen after dinner."
boys: "We'll clean it up later."
me: "I want it done now."
boys: "Then why don't you do it?"

I hate it when the boys have a good point when I am cranky. If I wanted it done immediately while they were doing something equally important, I'd have to clean the kitchen myself, including packing up the leftovers and putting them in the refrigerator. But I could handle it, despite my grumbly tummy, and I did. Both my stomach and my mouth were grumbling. Like a child, I complained out loud while washing and drying pots. Fortunately, no one pays any attention to me when I'm like this. On the plus side, at least I didn't have to solve the math problems.

Day Three ended when I took to the bed, saying good night to the boys and insisting that they go to bed early (11:00 for the teenage night owls in this house is very early). Here is the best part, last: according to the dreaded bathroom scale, I have lost 5 pounds!

Juice Cleanse Day 1

My jeans no longer fit. I weighed myself and was appalled at the number glaring at me. I lost 30 pounds several years ago, only to have regained a large portion. Winter was long and I spent too many days indoors, eating too much pasta, rice, and other heavy foods. So it is time for a spring cleaning of myself. Yesterday I began a Green Juice Cleanse/Fast, hoping to rid my sluggish self of excess.

I read about it online. Green Juices plus herbal teas and water constitute all the "foods" I can intake. According to the experts, when the body is no longer slogged down with digesting processed foods and white foods, it can begin to expel all the clogs. As it happens, I love green juice. In the morning, I juiced a huge fistful of kale, two celery stalks and a carrot. Later in the day, I had an entire bunch of dandelion leaves, more celery, carrots, and an apple juice. That was all. Then I waited for the magic and the darker side, the dreaded side effects I'd read about on the net.

But either my new face cream is doing an awesome job of squeezing my pores shut or my toxins are good and locked inside, because so far, I have seen nothing. No evidence of detoxifying. My skin looks fine, clear and pristine. I read that there could be boils (!). I have not experienced any unpleasant explosiveness, nor do I have terrible body odor.

So Day One passed uneventfully. How much longer do I have to do this? I will take it one day at a time. Green Juice Fast Day Two is beginning simply, with lukewarm water and lemon juice. I hope I start to smell bad soon.

Inspired by Vermont and the Massachusetts World Food Market

Recently my son and I spent some time in Vermont, working, exploring towns we had never seen, and getting to know people we had never met. The company was so interesting; in fact some of the most interesting people anywhere. Talking to them was educational for both me and my son. We learned details about the sugaring process from a woman who produces her own syrup at home as a hobby. We learned a great deal about Japanese culture from a woman who lived abroad for over ten years. And we explored the terrain of St. George on a guided hike by a long-time resident.

The food we ate was also stellar.

At the home of a new friend, my son and I enjoyed what is known as "Vermont Curry." Apparently, it is very common but new to us. There are many varieties. Our friend showed us the package label in Japanese and read the ingredients, all vegan. And at the home of another Vermonter, we enjoyed a delicious stir-fry which included among the farm-fresh vegetables, some canned seasoned seitan which I'd never encountered before.

During a lovely dinner at A Single Pebble in Burlington, with blogger @Cookveganlover, Lindsay, and her husband, we shared a rich, scrumptious tapioca pudding made with coconut milk. We declared that we would recreate it at home, using rice. But then I found some very nice pearl tapioca at the World Food Market in Hadley, Massachusetts. Searching the aisles, I also located the previously mentioned "Vermont Curry" blocks, which I was able to identify by sight as the package is written in Japanese. (I made sure to buy the ones that did not have cheese or honey in the ingredients.) Then I stumbled on the seasoned seitan that our friend Peg threw into her fresh vegetable stir-fry. Now I have all of the hard-to-find ingredients so I can recreate these wonderful Vermont dishes at home.

Last night, I chopped onions, celery, potatoes and carrots and threw them into a large pot with water. Adding Vermont Curry cubes (2), and boiling red rice in a separate pot, I thought I'd done exactly what needed to be done. Wrong! My curry was so much thinner and soupier than the one I'd eaten in Bristol. Sad. I had to add several tablespoons of corn starch mixed with water in order to thicken it to the desired consistency. After the thickening, it still tasted watery. So I added two more cubes for seasoning and it was just right. It yielded a ridiculously large amount, so I have lots leftover and some frozen.

I was more successful with the tapioca pudding. So I will share that recipe here.

Tapioca Pudding

1/2 cup pearl tapioca
2 cups coconut milk
1 cup soy milk
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup vegan cane sugar
2 tablespoon corn starch
3 tablespoons warm water
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 tsp orange zest

Combine pearl tapioca and milks and salt in saucepan over low heat, stirring constantly. Slowly add sugar while stirring. Beat corn starch and warm water with a fork, add to pan. Continue stirring and heating until boiling. Allow to boil for about one minute, then lower heat. Pudding should start to thicken. Once thick, turn off heat. Add vanilla extract and orange zest and allow to cool. Can be served warm but is better chilled from refrigerator.

Makes 4 - 6 servings.

Awesome Frickin Noodle Soup

I admit it has been a long, long time since I ate a bowl of real chicken noodle soup. I think it was during my pregnancy with my daughter, who is now in college, when I had a terrible cold. My mom probably cooked it from scratch with a whole chicken and lots of fresh vegetables and herbs. This version may not be exactly like my mom's, and it certainly doesn't have any animals, whole or otherwise, floating around in it. But I swear it tastes so much like chicken noodle soup that I feel all future colds staying away. It even looks authentic, with a pretty golden color and tiny droplets of oil floating on top. If I could marry a soup, and I weren't already married to a person, this would be the one. That is how fricking awesome this soup is. And for those of you who want to enjoy a nostalgic bowl of health and happiness, here is my Valentine to my Awesome Frickin Noodle Soup. If you make it, please feel free to add the herbs your own Mom or Grandma put in her chicken soup.

one onion, chopped small
4 cloves garlic, minced
olive oil to cover bottom of large pot
2 celery stalks, chopped
2 carrots, chopped
small bunch of Green Swiss Chard, leaves only, torn
1 can chick peas
1 block silken tofu, diced
1/2 tsp sage
1/2 tsp thyme
1/2 tsp. oregano
salt
pepper
water
1/4 lb. thin spaghetti broken into small pieces

Saute onion, garlic, celery and carrot for ten minutes or until celery is soft and carrots are bright. Pour in enough water to fill large soup pot 2/3 full. Add chard, chick peas, sage, thyme, and oregano. Salt and pepper to your liking. Bring to boil, stirring occasionally. Reduce heat and simmer for one to one and a half hours, covered. Bring back to boil, add spaghetti and tofu. Stir. Cook until spaghetti is soft, approx. 12 minutes. Allow to cool slightly. Serve with salad and bread. As with all noodle soups, this one will taste even better the next day.

When anyone asks how you made it, answer the way I do everytime, "with magic and love."