Category: Today’s Delights

Fasting produces a feeling of well-being in the body and mind, whether it’s a long term, one day, or skipping-a-dinner fast. It can forever change the way we think about food in our life. We’re blessed; we have the freedom to eat on a whim whether hungry or not. However, when we misuse that freedom, fasting is a wonderful way to get back on track.

I skipped a meal last week, and got to thinking about the delicious mashed potatoes I prepare. (everyone thinks the same about their mashed potatoes) Fasting also produces food cravings. Food cravings are not really about hunger, and fasting is easier when we understand this. The craving for mashed potatoes was neat. I was able to think about them without wanting to eat them because I knew it was only a craving. Simply knowing that something as tasty as mashed potatoes can be prepared easily, when the fast was over, was satisfying enough.

I thought about the many cookbooks and articles written about the best way to get the right consistency when mashing them. The right consistency-the perfect texture-is like many other things, an individual feeling.

Then I went on thinking about those cookbooks and articles written about mashed potatoes- what’s the best way to get that texture-potato masher, food processor, electric mixer? That seems to be the question. Then, do we leave the skin on or peel it? That’s another question. I thought about the way I prepare them using a potato masher. And unless someone has qualms about leaving the skin on, I leave it on.

I started dreaming about preparing them. I cut them in quarters, as many as the pot can accommodate, add water to cover them, and bring to a boil. I lower the flame when it comes to a boil. I add whole cloves of unpeeled garlic to the potatoes. How much garlic? As much as taste buds can handle.

When the potatoes are cooked through, I save the water, and remove them with a slotted spoon, along with the garlic cloves, and place potatoes and peeled garlic in a large bowl. Now comes the fun of mashing the potatoes and garlic, and s-l-o-w-l-y adding the water the potatoes were cooked in, and then adding a little Celtic salt and freshly ground pepper. Keep mashing; keep tasting, while adding the potato water. Keep mashing; keep tasting. More salt and pepper needed? Is it the right texture yet? What about adding a little olive oil? Does the last tasting say they’re just right?

Craving is satisfied and gone.

As much as I like a good glass of red wine I don’t have an understanding of exactly what makes a good glass of red wine. Last week I went to a wine tasting event in the Hudson River Valley. The wines for the evening were neatly placed on a table – waiting. I knew what would happen. There would be those words people use when wine is discussed. The words mean nothing to me in terms of wine; medium tannins, berry fruited, chocolate, spicy, oak, region of grapes, temperature control, delicate, crisp, “notes of melon,” fresh acidity, subtle, complimenting, and on it goes.

We were a small, group at the beginning of the evening. I tried to concentrate on what was said about each bottle of wine. I didn’t open my mouth except to taste the wine. Do I remember one thing about any of the wines? Nothing! I am resigned to being a happy taster. More than that is stretching it for me. I know when I’ve tasted a good glass of wine, the inclination to know more is just not there. However, this I know, if you’re serious about wine, moore brothers wine company at 33 East 20th Street, New York, NY 10003 (phone: 866-986-6673) is a good place.
www.moorebrothers.com

Oh, what a beautiful day. Look at all that snow. White as white can be. Slowing us down to almost a crawl, and we can’t do anything about it for at least a few hours. Just for a little while, are you enjoying the crawl? Notice how each snowflake has its own pattern. I noticed one day when I was on the steps of a friend’s townhouse. It was snowing wildly, and NYC was at a snail’s pace. My friend and I both happened to glance at the glass door where snowflakes had settled. We were enthralled with their patterns. Neither of us had stopped to appreciate individual snowflakes before this day. It was one of those moments when time seemed to stand still.

A snail’s pace is nice for a change, though I know not for everyone. Businesses have to keep to their schedules, but can’t, when the snow falls heavily. The thing about this keeping to schedules is that when we let go, in these kinds of situations, and not worry, when we enjoy the beauty of the day, somehow we get the support of the universe, and it all works out.

For someone not used to trusting this way, it’s not easy. However, it’s like everything else, you won’t know unless you make it your experience. Think of the tiny, fragile, snowflakes, think of their patterns and their beauty. It seems that the universe does things creatively, not adhering to the same old script, even when the results are the same, as in a snowstorm. The universe has fun.

Shouldn’t we also since we’re a part of it all?

I have an aunt; she’s the last living relative of her generation in the family. We, who claim her as a relative, absolutely love her. There’s a zest about her that never falters. She’s in her 80’s and doesn’t seem to know her age. No one has heard her complain about getting old. When the phone rings and she’s invited out – out she goes – no matter the time or place. Of course, you must know from this description of her that she laughs a lot.

She’s goes beyond the arthritis that grips her legs and hands, beyond the macular degeneration that’s left her “legally blind” and has taken away her driver’s license. In her early 80’s she was still driving, and was one of the best drivers of anyone I know. She once said that if she couldn’t drive she didn’t know what she’d do. It’s happened. What’s also happened is that there’s never a lack of people calling to take her out. Shopping? Swimming? Dining? Siteseeing? Visiting? Out she goes.

A few years ago, Aunt Irene found herself at an alternative healing place. The tests showed allergies. Oh, no. The tasty comfort foods (we all know what they are) were replaced by the “other way” of eating. You know, none of. . . and lots of. . . . After the initial shock of cleaning out kitchen cupboards and refrigerator, and looking at a restaurant’s menu with new eyes, Aunt Irene once again got into the flow. The bonus was that in eliminating the wheat she was allergic to, she lost lots of weight. Nice after all. What else is there to say about her? It’s this, it feels right to have Aunt Irene right here with the rest of us. If anything happens to people in Aunt Irene’s life, they’re automatically put on “top priority” of her prayer list. There’s great respect for that prayer list, and the woman who says the prayers.

Yes, she simply does what’s before her to do, and she does it so well.

Tonight it’s quiet in Raleigh. It’s a bit chilly. I like visiting here to see family, and, at the same time, to observe all the changes that have taken place since the last time I was here. Always there are many developments in a short span of time. Highways are being expanded, high-rise luxury buildings are going up, big beautiful homes are being built, small speciality shops and restaurants are opening, and more people coming in to live. I always wonder how the natives feel about all the changes.
www.rdu.com
www.angusbarn.com

Have you been thinking about moving? It seems people from different parts of the world are choosing North Carolina. Your next door neighbor could be from a country you’ve been planning to visit, and suddenly you have a personal guide. Raleigh’s a really clean city. It’s refreshing to get off the plane and find yourself in a friendly, clean, easy-to-navigate-around-airport. Public transportation will have to be revved up if Raleigh’s population continues to increase.

Do you enjoy sports? Whether you’re a player or a spectator you’ll participate because the enthusiasm for sports is contagious here. People are friendly, too. You can depend on old southern charm. There’s more, the Blue Ridge Mountains, a quaint town called Asheville, Black Mountain, the Biltmore Estate and Inn, the wonderful seacoast, Charlotte, and all the towns in between.
www.ncsu.edu
www.meredith.edu
www.biltmore.com
www.blackmountain.org
www.visitblackmountain.com

Not too far from the Beacon, NY train station at 232 Main Street is Homespun Foods. Jessica is the owner and chef, and if you were to stop there you’d notice Homespun Foods was planned with loving care, and the offerings are fresh and always deliciously consistent. On the menu is written, “I wanted a place for people who love food, who like to talk about food, and who want the ingredients to cook good food.” On the menu it also says she was a manager and trainer at Whole Foods in NYC; she knows what she’s doing. A garden patio waits for fine weather and for people to enjoy the outside. www.homespunfoods.com

While I sat eating the bread pudding-truly, it was good-I could see Jessica in the window of her open kitchen. She was using the biggest whisk I’d seen so far. There was a smile at the corners of her mouth as she beat the contents that was in the bowl. It’s obvious that she likes what she does. We started talking and she told me the story of when and why she began preparing bread pudding. She said that she used to own a bakery shop in Seattle and at the end of the day there was always leftover bread. What to do with the bread? That was the question. Bread pudding finally came to mind, and suddenly there was a demand for her bread pudding, now she needed to purchase more bread.

Everyone likes Homespun Foods. There’s no rushing here. Just sit a bit with your drink of choice, listen to the music, go out to the garden, and when the food comes, enjoy.

It takes a bit of effort to let go of stuff circulating in our head- so many thoughts held onto for dear life. I’m weeding in the Catskills and have been thinking that, for the most part, what we (may I say we?) think we know comes from here, there and everywhere. I wonder what it would feel like to see life with “new eyes,” to let the old stuff go, not a shred of evidence of those former beliefs (unless they serve us well).

Being in the country where it’s quiet, getting up in the morning and seeing an abundance of daffodils in full bloom, and wild turkeys scurrying around with their silly-looking gait, and deers eating fallen apples, gives a sense of whimsical to the day.
Sometimes you got to get away from all the concrete and all the stores in the city. And sometimes you got to just surround yourself with beautiful old, sturdy, green trees, and less extravagances, for a stay in the country. Nature’s way is serene, not noisy, and it gently invites us to stay calm and enjoy what it offers, and perhaps see things with “new eyes.”

“Without great solitude, no serious work is possible.” -Pablo Picasso, Spanish painter

“We have hints that there is a way of life vastly richer and deeper than all this hurried existence. A life of unhurried serenity and peace and power. If only we could slip over into that center.” -Thomas Kelly, British educator