Bountiful

“If you study life deeply, its profundity will seize you suddenly with dizziness…” A. Schweitzer

If I were to distribute my calling card these days no doubt I’d extend forth a collard leaf in silent introduction instead. Who needs a sloppy hash of pronouns, adjectives, and verbs when one spectacularly dignified object says it all? Too much time alone might account for what others view as eccentric biophilia, but I believe I’ve walked this path towards quiet adoration for long and from afar.

For about half of my life, every node of my existence has led back towards a body that I have struggled to accept. Half of half of this time, I’d say begrudgingly so. While loss of mobility has resulted in an interesting hyperawareness of the sensations of movement that can actually be experienced as enjoyable now, it still manages to pierce me with a longing and grief that hollows me out. I have been guilty of juggling several (some questionable) modalities of healing with desperate crazed zeal masquerading as optimism in the clever attempt to swiftly outrun my tears. Not surprisingly rushing towards the hale and the whole ever hopeful to get a quick fix, mostly managed to highlight the distance between myself and other.

But something does happen in the cracks of darkness, in the emptiness of self. And that is that singularly and then a few at a time, the grains of one’s being manage to reorient themselves and find new direction, the miraculous sprout of new growth. Food has been pivotal companion in this transformation. In the early years a relatively shallow understanding of “food as medicine” created a cooking style cramped with the weight of dogma. I looked towards food to fix the broken places inside. As one can imagine a few of my strangest meals were born then. Somewhere a shift occurred in this hungry search and I went from “looking for something” to feed the fragmented-- to seeing and appreciating, which exalted the whole.

About the span of two hands spread wide in wicked delight, this collard green radiates robust vigor. Where does it come from? It is flat like a plate but could it be tectonic scale from a prehistoric reptilian? Perhaps this is solo petal from one reluctant cantankerous brussel sprout or royal plume from emerald green macaw. Do its tributaries wend down to the great blue ocean or burrow instead through strata of soft dark humus? These alchemical cells of light, water, chlorophyll, and sugar divide and build, sacrifice themselves and then die. We are recipients of nature’s bounty and perpetually feasting on the gift of life. It is too much really to put into clear words, this kind of seeing. All I know is that when I look a little deeper- past the visible, the monumental, the cohesive, the socially acceptable; I catch glimpse of the unformed, the incongruent, the abstruse, the ambiguous and the holy. And it is in this quiet misinformed place where life is born wildly beating ready to spring free.

Collard Wraps: Coming off of my last post on layered constructions, I’ve been a bit obsessed with wraps inside of wraps, puréeing and pesto-ing every veggie/herb I can get my hands onto, and lots of color. I have always reduced my collards to a shredded olive heap on the plate but have been inspired to use leaves whole as a wrap for burrito/dolmas/sushi style fun. Raw foodies use the leaves uncooked, but nutritionally I understand that heating increases the availability of nutrients. Plunge the greens in boiling water to retain the vibrant color and texture. I went a little too long (started to turn olive colored) and found the greens slippery, challenging to make clean bites out of.

Ingredients:
Collard leaves cleaned and stems notched out
Toasted nori sheets

Cauliflower Filling: inspired by Melody @ MELOMEALS RAW CHALLENGE
½ cauliflower head destemmed and cut into florets
2 garlic cloves
1/3 jalapeno deseeded
3 sundried tomatoes
½ C toasted walnuts
1 ½ tsp curry
1 tsp Bragg liquid amino/ tamari
3 Tblsp olive oil
Small handful of cilantro
Smaller handful of raisins

Direction: Get water boiling in a heavy medium sized pot and plunge the leaves in a few at a time for approximately 30 sec. As mentioned above I went too long and would next time take them out when they achieve the bright green color. Have a bowl of cold water ready to douse the blanched leaves and blot dry. Finish how ever many leaves you want. I made a slew of wraps for the week. Toast nori sheets over a hot pan until the seaweed starts to curl and buckle a bit, can brush sesame oil over before and salt a bit afterwards. Put aside. Blitz the entire filling ingredients and taste. Hmm, this is interesting but like I said I’ve been sticking everything and anything into my processor… Take a leaf, dry it if necessary; place a nori sheet on top and then a few spoonfuls of the cauliflower filling in the middle. Fold the lateral sides of the leaves in on each side and then roll up like a burrito/eggroll. You may need to experiment with filling/leaf ratio or the need to cut in half. I found some of my rolls horrifyingly sloppy and the filling does tend to tumble out. All in all very interesting! If this doesn’t interest perhaps a brown rice/avocado/marinated tofu/ume paste filling would be nice. Go crazy.

Pastabilities

I didn’t want to be a curmudgeon so I held my tongue instead. While N- enthusiastically described his concept for an upcoming dinner party I had my serious doubts. Throughout the years we would discuss the merits of various meal schemes while simultaneously scribbling down depictions of these food fantasies. A giant corkboard in the kitchen oversaw our mock debates and in due time, the top two contenders would be slapped up in pretend attempt to gain some kind of neutrality. We explored, re-invented, and finally exhausted what we dubbed the “layered” concept which spanned the gamut from whimsical pastel hued ice cream bombes to things stuffed into bigger things. For this particular event, it was carbohydrates that were up for investigation.

Now right off, the idea of a layered carb dish sounded redundant and heavy hitting. Since when do elastic topped pants and a soft sofa for snoozing make for an exciting night? Moreover, the beige on beige color issue really bothered me but N- was untouched by such trivialities. Instead he persuaded me with a beguiling cross textural description of chewy twisted pasta against crispy cubes of potato and to make matters worse, there was absolutely no sauce in any way, shape, or form to help reconcile the two. Suffice to say that night did go down in history as the second worst dish he had ever created and served. The first place was affectionately reserved for a disturbingly viscous okra studded gumbo. Tough crowd I know, having been singled out earlier with my own cake-of-shame.

While I don’t doubt I have blissfully consumed at least a few million hydrates of carbon, I’d still irreverently say that I don’t much care for carbs. Far from a nutritionist and more of a generalist, muddled into my own layered complexity are the contradictions that rise and abound ad infinitum. I miss living in Italy and eating giant spools of egg rich pasta, and who can resist slurping up sprightly noodles in broth á la Tampopo? Yet the heavy consumption of these enticing forms of sugar and starch, not to mention the breads and pretty pastries atop fancy cut doilies leave me gorged and lethargic. Cut to the chase, the magic of photosynthesis resulting in stored carbohydrates in fruit and vegetable tissue- yes, the metamorphosis that transforms these whole foods into something that clogs- thank you, no.

But empathy sent me scuttling recently for rice sticks, influenced by a friend who had been waxing on about pad thai for weeks now. In a series of events including mistaken identity, I found myself pleasantly surprised to discover my rice noodles were in fact- lithe and magical bean threads, and that is perfect if you want to slink around in summer heat feeling svelte. Bean threads, cellophane noodles, shining noodles, and even powdered silk noodles are some of the poetic names given to this slender Asian noodle. Dried this food staple made of mung bean starch is whitish, fragile, and almost opaque. Bundled into a haphazard mass they look possibly suited for scrubbing pots. However, after a restorative fifteen minute soak in warm water and a quick toss into the fry pan, this once brittle crone turns translucent and shimmery, the now gossamer hairs of a mermaid picking up the glint of sun and surf. Receptive to liquids and a splash of seasonings, the supple strands take on the flavor and hue of any sauce it happens to share space with. Occupying the world of the unseen, it can be seen as a humble sort. Alone the taste is invisible and rather shapeless, but in cooperation with other ingredients these transparent filaments create a luminous web that brings out the best in all other elements. In spite of a definite presence these carbohydrates do not dominate, obliterate, or obfuscate, rather they are skillful collaborators with a light touch and a magical sense of beauty. It seems odd to consider a mere noodle as having the power to influence, yet with constant conversation in my head about the interconnectedness of things, perhaps nothing is too small or too irrelevant. Perhaps the ability to recede into the background, relax our borders, and dissolve into the soup isn’t such a bad thing, but exactly what we need. And hands down, I’d take that over heavy handed potatoes descending upon a plateful of gemelli, chewy or otherwise.

Ondine’s Tresses, serves 1: I admit this is a simplified take on chap jae, a Korean noodle dish I grew up with. Really any vegetable could be used, just think of slicing the veggies into longer elegant pieces. I didn’t have any hijiki at the time, but would make this addition since these noodles remind me of the glinting reflection of the sea. Also, although this noodle seems lighter than regular pasta- I discovered that it has more carbohydrates and a higher glycemic index. So if you are watching what you eat, please be aware of this.

Ingredients:
Bean thread bundle approx 1.2 oz
1 garlic clove minced
2 scallions sliced into 2” lengths
4 shitake mushrooms, destemmed and sliced
Handful of watercress
1 small carrot grated
A bit of reconstituted hijiki
1/3 C water/broth
Oil
Tamari
Mirin
Toasted sesame oil/seeds

Directions: Place the tresses in a medium sized bowl and cover with warm water for about 15 minutes. Get a large fry pan and place over medium high heat. Swirl some oil into the pan and begin frying up the veggies in order of hardness. Sauté for a few minutes until the vegetables soften. Add the water or broth, about a teaspoon of mirin, a tablespoon of tamari, and the soaked noodles. Cook for a few minutes while stirring. The noodles will soften and become stretchy and transparent. At this point anoint with sesame oil until the threads glisten. Taste for additional seasoning tweaks. Garnish with toasted sesame seeds.