A Celebration Past

This was a holiday email I penned during Hanukkah December 2007. A lot has changed since then, but the wishes remain the same.

Last week I was feeling like a particularly bad Jew.  Considering my particular brand of Mojewism or Jewmonism, this shouldn't be a big surprise to me.  Nonetheless, it was the third night of Hanukkah and I hadn't lit candles, played dradle or made anything fried.   Now I was willing to forgo the second and third demands of Hanukkah celebration (though I do love latkes), but I needed to do the candle thing.  Hanukkah is specifically a temple holiday and a remembrance of the victory of the Maccabees.  While the most significant Jewish Holidays come in the autumn followed by Passover, to me Hanukkah is about the miracle of God's abundance, which is a rather lovely thing to celebrate.   I walked down to the Christmas market on Vorosmarty ter (a wonderful sensory adventure. The lights, the trees, the foods which are all very unhealthy and delicious, the garlands, the people in traditional dress, it couldn't be much lovelier) where I found a menorah (a bit ironic, I know) being sold by a very pleasant Hungarian Italian Jewish Catholic (Half Jewish, half Catholic, doesn't practice anything but celebrates all of the holidays).   I bought the menorah, went on to my Italian coaching and returned to my little flat to pack up for Italia, where I was going the following morning.  I said the prayer, lit candles, and thought about the different miracles in my life where I have received so much more than I could have ever expected . 

Thank you for giving me more than I ever expected – more kindness, friendship, generosity, love or wisdom.  Have a wonderful, joyous holiday season filled with abundance and peace.

With Love from Budapest,

BIRTHDAY PARTY!!!

Meet Levi. Levi is our brother. Levi is an academic/explorere/writer of books/inventor type doing all sorts of uber cool things. But when you boil it down, he likes simple things: His family (most days), his nieces and nephews (all days), engines, electricity, marshmallow wars...

Well Today is Levi's birthday. Here is my birthday equation for happiness. .

Morotcycle

+

 PVC blow gun

+

Marshmallows

+

Phinn in angry bear sweater and birthday glasses

+

Sweet Lobby

We wish you a life full of happiness, wonder, love and success!

The reports are true...

I'm a tree hugger.

Also... as leaves fall from the trees and as Thanksgiving final decisions are being made, eat this.

The best Apple Pancake maybe ever.

This superfood salad and this superfood sweet

Pumpkin chip cookies

Maybe my favorite thing on this list, Pumpkin Fondue

Recipes for left over pumpkin fondue (they're almost as good)

Farm Vegetable Tian

Hungarian sweets

And last but CERTAINLY not least, dinner in a pumpkin.

The Most Unusual Pie at Thanksgiving

This past week, a dear friend was helping me all day. We were doing a photo shoot for an upcoming project (more on that soon). She has one of the most exquisite aesthetics I've ever seen and I can't wait to share the pictures with you. We went to get a bite afterward and one of her pumpkins (who is -- coincidentally -- Hetti's best friends) rode in the back of my car. When it was time to trade passengers, I couldn't find part of her booster seat. The next morning while cleaning out my car, I found the strap a midst the layers of a crinoline slip. I asked to drop it off, which brought a dinner invitation. I felt rather sheepish accepting since I really should have been the one to extend the invitation. But if I was going to go, I knew I needed to bring something delicious. This was the result.

A great alternative to quiche or stuffing, this works as a meal or a side and is great for your vegetarian or gluten free Thanksgiving guests. The cream and cheese can be omitted for unsweetened almond milk and apple juice for vegans. You can also substitute yogurt for cream. It will give your pie an extra tang.

Cheddar, Apple and Semolina Pie

1 1/2 cups semolina*
4 cups broth (veggie, mushroom or chicken)
1/2 cup apple juice
1/2 cup cream
1 cup cheddar cheese
1/2 cup cream cheese or chevre

Topping
1/2 lb kale
1 red onion
2 yams
1 crunchy apple (gala, pink lady or granny smith work well)
3 tbsp crushed, roasted nuts (I like hazelnuts, but almonds, walnuts or most anything else will work too)
Olive Oil for the pan

Salt and pepper to taste

Bring broth to a boil rolling boil. Add semolina slowly to avoid clumps. Cover and simmer until thick. Add cream, followed by grated cheddar cheese. Pour into 2 deep pie plates or one casserole dish, leaving about a half inch on top. Leave, uncovered to set. Meanwhile, chop and saute kale in olive oil followed by the red onions and yams. When vegetables are done, arrange on top on pie garnishing with nuts so each piece will get some of every vegetable. Serve warm or cold. Serves 8-10 people

TIP: I love to use my panini press to sautee veggies. If you put the top down, it cuts cooking time in half.

*You can also use cornmeal, polenta or grits. They're pretty much the same thing. Semolina is a slightly finer grain, but the measurements are the same.

The King and I

Have you ever seen The King and I?

When I was a child I thought Anna Leonowens' obsession with a home of her own was insane. What was her rush? She literally lived in a gold encrusted palace. No house she could get on her own was going to come close to as awesome as her accidental home. And yet, every time she got Yul Brynner alone she reminded him of his promise of a private brick residence (as opposed to the obvious pastime of staring dreamily at his chiseled jaw).

I've realized that Anna and I have a lot in common. I have a sweet thing going here. But I'm not going to let my domicile-fixation blind me to the loveliness around me. So, with that in mind, I'd like to invite you on a teeny tiny tour of my little house in the palace.

We Salute You

I was in a South Carolina airport, checking my bags and getting ready to fly to another performance, when I saw people pouring out of the main terminal. A large group was dressed in vintage costumes, Rolling Thunder bikers were everywhere, there seemed to be a dozen color gaurds and a brass band was playing. There were hundreds of people, young and old, gathered together to welcome the returning soldiers. I told Yoni we needed to get more gigs in South Carolina. There was a group of WWII  veterans back from a trip to Washington DC. It was beautiful and wonderful and fun. I was overwhelmed with the commitment the community had to honoring people who protect us every day. When I asked if they did the same thing for veterans returning from current tours of duty, they explained they didn't. It just made me think for a while.

Notes from Montreal

So missionaries aren't actually encouraged to use slang. We're actually told not to use slang. Ever. But, for some crazy reason (read: Satan is probably trying to eat my soul), I like using slang even more now than I did before coming on a mission. Sometimes I feel like I should be sorry about it, and other times (read: mostly all of the time....) I  feel like I'm a bear and I just don't care.

Mostly I just find myself using slang in English -- when I'm talking to myself or with my companion. But sometimes I also have the urge to speak French like a cool kid - and let me tell you something, French slang is just as fun as English slang. And I know missionaries have rules for a reason - and I totally understand the motivations behind the injunction to avoid slang. But I also recognize that in order to appeal to a wider audience - including angsty Quebecois wannabe gangstas - I'mma have to perfect my French slang. Would you want to talk to sister missionaries who didn't use slang? Exactly. I wouldn't either. Case in point. So, I actually didn't really plan on going off on this tangent, but I did it anyway. Probably because I didn't really gather my thoughts before sitting down at the computer today.

Aaaanyway, this week has been good. Remember Carol? I love Carol. I've always loved Carol. She's always kind of been my favorite person here (or one of my favorite people here). OK. So, I *can* speak French now, and I can understand others when they speak. But sometimes (read: almost always) I don't catch everything. But sometimes that comes in handy. And sometimes that makes my companion really dislike me.

Example: The elders came to give Carol a blessing (she asks for 1 per week to help her stop smoking). One of the elders questioned whether she really needed the blessing. Carol was wounded. She scolded him, and we thought that was the end of the encounter. But the next time we saw her she was clearly still upset. I knew she was upset because she was saying she was upset and because she looked upset, and I guess Chorale trained me to be very expressive with my face because - between just a few words and looking sympathetic - Carol decided that I was the only one who really understood and loved her. She felt that while my companion was nice, she just didn't understand all of the things that Carol was dealing with, and that the elders were bad missionaries, unholy, etc.. The irony is: I really do love Carol more than the other missionaries. They all know it's true. But I actually didn't understand much of what she was saying that day -- Carol speaks real Quebecois, and sometimes I'm just a little too tired to pay close enough attention to understand everything (and even if I did have the energy I still couldn't understand everything). Little lessons: sometimes God blesses us when we're tired. Sometimes people get mad at other people for no good reason - for not understanding even when they're the ones who really do understand! And sometimes (maybe always?) love can make up for any lack of comprehension we may experience. That was supposed to sound both humble and profound and I think I failed on both counts. Oh bother. 

I sang "Michelle, My Belle" at the old folks home this week. I say "I sang" because even though there were about 30+ other people, I was the only one who knew the verses. So I sang the verses, and the sweet, senile old folks sang with me on the chorus. And it was pretty darling. And it's really heartwarming when old people start to remember you from week to week. Even though they don't remember who or where they are....

Je vous aime!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A Jolly Holiday

Here it is, people, The (belated) Halloween Money Shot(s):

Mary Poppins, Bert, and a wee waddling penguin

Aren't they too much? I die. Also, these go on file under easiest costumes ever. The whole communal ensemble was shopped from their closets. Willa's penguin hat was a very thoughtful gift from Momo, saving me from at least 10 minutes of hot glue gun frustration. Phinny's penguin hat was also a gift from Momo -- she brought it back from Japan a couple years ago, and it is officially my favorite souvenir ever.

On a related note, have you watched Mary Poppins lately? We've (obviously) been on a little kick. And I have to say re-watching it after 20 years totally blew my mind. I'd forgotten -- or more likely, never appreciated -- how beautiful and profound the story really is. When Mr. Banks finally breaks, and realizes what a treasure his children are, I just burst into tears. It reminds me what an unbelievable privilege it is to have this time with my sweet little people, and how incredibly fortunate we are that their daddy is first and foremost a lover of munchkins, magic, and monsters - and a super-serious, hard-nosed banker-lawyer-man mostly only during business hours (mostly). We're the luckiest. Go watch Mary Poppins. It will make you smile.

Some Important Safety Reminders for Holiday Travel

I'm usually guilty of ignoring the pre-flight safety brief, but I could watch this one over and over again.

GUYS. Guys. Guys, Halloween Costumes Next Year? Guys?

An afternoon spent mourning Halloween's passing and doing nothing I was supposed to has resulted in whatever this is (I'll tell you what it is: magnificent). For reals though, I feel like dressing up as each other is a pretty good group outfit. The people who get it would think that we're so clever (or just weirdly obsessed with each other (or both of those things at the same time))!

Sisters, can we spend next Halloween together and do this? It would bring me so many giggles.

Other peoples, what was your favorite group costume you saw this Halloween? Hopefully there were some better ideas out there than Miley Cyrus and that creepy rape-y prison escapee. My favorite was Daft Punkin (two sleekly dressed dudes with their heads inside of jack-o-lanterns instead of robo-helmets).

Crying, people who cry and one of the best things ever to come from crying.

I ascended the kitchen stairs and my eyes began to sting. When I arrived at the half door, I saw my mother standing above the cutting board with tears streaming down her face. This could only mean one thing and it was oh so wonderful. Mom was making her French Onion Soup. There are two things my mother cooks better than anyone else: French Onion Soup and moussaka. If you can get a dinner invitation when she makes either of these, someone in the Universe must be happy with you. Over the years, I have tried to no avail to recreate my mother's soup. So this spring when my friend Julie had a baby, I wanted to make her french onion soup. But when I realized I didn't have enough of the spicy, sharp bulbs, I tried something else. The result was quite remarkable. A soup with a completely different flavor profile than French Onion Soup (capitalized out of reverence for the dish). I started with the long-sauteed onions that are the base of the onion soup. From there, the paths of these two recipes diverge. 

Recipe continues in more detail after the jump