Borscht

I live laden with food. Not burdened, but bundled. It is not uncommon for me to find a forgotten jalapeño in my pocket or a lemon left in my purse. Rosemary twigs line my jackets and cinnamon sticks wriggle their way into my chest of drawers. Food should be personal. 

This is what I am making tonight, to fill our kitchen with warmth and delight. I hope this Sunday finds you sweetly.

Borscht Soup

4 cups stock to water

1 ½ cups thinly sliced potato

1 cup thinly sliced beets

                                                                                     

1 ½ cups chopped onion 

2 Tbs. Butter  

1 scant tsp. Caraway seeds                                                         

2 tsp. salt

2 tsp black pepper 

1/2 tsp. fresh Dill weed

1 large, sliced carrot                                                                       

1 stalk chopped celery                                                                        

1 Tbs. + 1 tsp. Cider vinegar

1 Tbs. +1 tsp. honey           

1 cup tomato puree

toppings: sour cream, dill weed, chopped tomato

Place potatoes, beets and water in saucepan.  Cook until everything is tender.

(Save the water)

Begin cooking the onions in the butter in a large kettle.  Add caraway seeds and salt.  Cook until onion is translucent, then add celery, carrots and cabbage(optional).

Add water from beets and potatoes and cook, covered until all the vegetables are tender.

Add potatoes, beets and all remaining ingredients.

Cover and let simmer for at least 30 minutes.  Taste to correct seasonings.

Serve topped with sour cream, dill weed, chopped fresh tomatoes, and extra vinegar. 

Trusting in Strangers

We are waiting on the side of the road. It is our first time and we are nervous but both pretend not to be. We both pretend we trust strangers and we both pretend that this is the adventure we want. I wish that we were warm and had a bed to sleep in but I don’t say anything. The sky looks like it could drench us soon and my cracked heels beg for a fresh pair of socks. Our spaghetti supply is getting low and we frugally limit ourselves to one meal a day. We are hoping to make it to a town soon to replenish our food supplies and have relative peace in the safety of camping in someone’s backyard.

We thrust our thumbs at every car that passes by, which isn’t too many today. We give our best desperate looks and I smile hopefully at each driver but their taillights keep getting smaller in the distance.

We start to worry that we will have to find a quiet meadow to spend the night when we jokingly throw our thumbs out at a passing 18 wheeler. “Oh God, I hope he doesn’t stop.” He does. We look at each other, crooked smiles, pretend we are braver than we are, and shrug our shoulders. We snatch our packs off the ground and awkwardly run, our hands still carrying mate. We peek our heads in and he beckons. I send a silent prayer to my guardian angels, and before I know it, Aaron has thrown my bag into the front and he is lifting me inside. Our driver is playing Kenny Rogers and as we start moving, “The Gambler” begins to play.

It is almost too much to believe. I felt like Jack Keroauc, even though I have always abhorred him. It feels like we are in a movie, thumbing down rides and listening to Kenny Rogers. Except that I have never been as cool as I pretend to be. We are in the bottom of Chile and the entire ride all I can think of is the knife in Aarons pack and how quickly I could access it if needed. I am too nervous to talk and Aaron doesn’t speak enough Spanish so we spend the ride listening to Kenny Rogers on repeat. I know the rules, and I know it is our job to entertain our silent chauffer—but today and this ride, I am a nervous wreck. I sit wringing my hands, thinking of how no one knows where we are and we could be dead for weeks before our parents back home might worry. I sit thinking of my survival skills and wondering how well Aaron could throw a punch. Every slight movement the driver makes I am convinced is the beginning of a slaughter or violent rape. I sit. I worry. I listen to Kenny Rogers. We do not speak.

In a few hours after many listens to Kenny Rogers Greatest Hits, we make it to Cooiyhaque and the driver lets us out at the edge of town. We say thank you over and over again—Thank you for the ride and also sorry for thinking you were a hitchhiker killer. Thank you for delivering us and allowing us to continue to trust in the great Mystery.

We laugh, we buy beer and we shake off the fear. There are many more rides to thumb, many more drivers to entertain, and many more stops on our journey. We cannot waste any more energy on fear.

Ginger Cookies Baby!

I have absent for so long I will be surprised if anyone even reads this now. But I keep writing, because it is my silent understanding that beauty is nothing if not shared, and so even these slices, even these insignificant stories and recipes must be thrown out into the void to create unknown ripples.

I suppose I have been absent from myself as well, but that is all too familiar a feeling. I suppose also, that I have felt that I have nothing to write. That the peace and insignificance of our lives here is somehow unworthy and boring. That somehow I am so afraid of melting into the void that I have slipped into it unknowingly.

But in the meantime there are the most delicious ginger snaps you've ever had, and they are begging to fill your kitchen and bellies. They are seriously AMAZING and they are meant to be shared and eaten warm.

Chewy Ginger Snaps 

1/2 cup chopped crystallized ginger
2/3 cup sugar + extra for dusting
6 tbsp butter

1/4 cup molasses
1 large egg
1 tsp vanilla

2 cups flour
2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp cloves

Combine 1/3 cup sugar and butter together and mix until white and fluffy. Mix chopped ginger and rest of sugar and mix well. Add molasses, egg and vanilla, mix, then scrape down bowl. Add flour and rest of spices and mix until just combined. Refrigerate for an hour or so, or until the dough is cool enough to handle. Shape into 1 in balls, then roll in sugar.
Bake at 350 for about 11 min. They will still look soft but don't worry, they will harden when cool and still remain delightfully chewy.