ONE THING WE KEEP NOTICING . . .
is how many contrasts there are in this 'new normal' of daily life.
For instance, I am a person who tends to crave stillness and silence. Now that the world has, in many ways, gone quite still and silent, I find that my grief over change and loss is spreading out all around me, resting in the corners and rising along with my breath, a constant presence.
But each time I encounter the concrete grief of a lost person, or people - in the news, anecdotally from friends, and now, regretfully, about someone we know personally - I notice that the silence and stillness is...wrong. What I really want to do is move my body and make as much noise as possible. I understand better now why folks from Italy to New York, and many places in between, are banging pots and pans at a prescribed hour each day.
I also find myself thinking of the importance of saying a person's name out loud. For a certain generation of people, the Vietnam War Memorial designed by Maya Lin is a powerful symbol of why the names of those we've lost are vital to the acts of remembrance and healing. In some ancient cultures, names were considered so powerful that they were hidden from outsiders - if an enemy knew your name, they could more easily find and kill you. (Some derivation of this custom must have resulted in the famous children's story of Rumpelstiltskin.) Others believe that the speaking aloud of a departed person's name is disrespectful, that it conjures them up and disturbs their peace. I personally feel that this conjuring is a necessary part of grief - that the NOISE of speaking aloud or clapping your hands or stomping your feet while you dance along to music (earpods in so as not to disturb your neighbors, of course) is how we move our energy toward one another in all the stillness.
In the spirit of coming together to heal when we are far apart, we have a name to say 'aloud' today: Evan Weissman. Undergraduate director of the Food Studies program at Syracuse University. A dear person, full of love and the desire to help others. He will never be forgotten.
And in yet another contrast, everything keeps coming back to lemons / lemonade. There is something about the freshness of spring, and how well their acidity pairs with the sweetness of new flowers, that has us using them a lot in our kitchens lately. Here's Tay's recipe for a very special lemony soup, to bring out the sweetness or the bitterness, depending on which you are feeling more today...
AVGOLEMONO SOUP
The first time I made this for my significant other, he asked me what I was preparing. When I explained what avgolemono soup is - chicken soup with lemon that is thickened with eggs - his natural reaction was, 'That sounds gross'. And then he ate it. And now it continues to be one of the comforting and requested items in our household. It is never not soothing.
I first learned of it as a kid, when my (100% Irish) YaYa would make it for me. Her version was College Inn chicken broth with the Real Lemon Juice (you know, the one that comes in a lemon shaped plastic container). I loved her so much that I would likely still slurp down that version. But after she passed away I went in search of a recipe. Many are quite complicated, and the one that has become the staple in our household was one I found via a random internet search. It was originally on Oprah.com and had the fewest ingredients. I've - naturally - made a few adjustments (mostly more lemon juice and adding lemon zest). I hope that it becomes a staple in your household, too.
INGREDIENTS
- 1 qt. chicken broth
- 1/2 c. orzo
- 2 large eggs
- 6 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice (or more)
- 2 tsp. grated lemon zest
- Sea salt and freshly ground white pepper to taste
- 2 Tbsp chopped dill or parsley
INSTRUCTIONS
- In a large saucepan, bring chicken broth to a boil. Add orzo; cover, reduce heat, and simmer 10 minutes, or until orzo is al dente. Do not drain; set aside.
- In a bowl, beat eggs until thick. Whisk in lemon juice and zest. Gradually add 1/2 cup hot broth from saucepan, whisking constantly. Add 2 more 1/2 cups of broth, whisking after each addition.
- Pour mixture back into saucepan and reheat, stirring with a wooden spoon, until egg cooks and soup slightly thickens. Do not boil, or eggs will curdle. Add salt and pepper to taste, then sprinkle with dill or parsley. Serve hot.
NOTE // If there are any leftovers you can have them the next day. Just be aware that the orzo will continue to soak up the liquid, so you can enjoy it a little more like a porridge than a soup on day two.
To holding on to childhood memories,
Tay + Dor
Co-Founders, Good Food Jobs
|
tidbits...
what we’re reading / listening to / watching / noticing / thinking about / captivated by this Tuesday…
A satisfying reminder of the roots of southern hospitality, with links to some of the beautiful and timely efforts that are taking place in light of the virus crisis (think Kentucky bourbon distillers switching over to hand sanitizer production) by Shane Mitchell for the Bitter Southerner.
One newsletter reader has been using her time at home to make a podcast: Season by Season is an odyssey through the 24 sekki of the traditional Japanese calendar, using poetry, music and sound to explore the rhythm of nature expressed by the seasons.
Opportunities to hone your cooking skills abound, and the latest classes from CocuSocial, an NYC-based cooking / tasting class venue, are absolutely free. Learn more.
And don't forget to check or add to the open source document of resources for the hospitality industry that our dear friend, Dana put together.
got a tidbit? drop it here for us, and you just might see it in next week's newsletter.
|
|
|