I mention this not to boast, but as a prefix to my actual point. My Aunt Susan, and her husband and children have tried making this soup many times, and it never seems to come out quite the same. Good, or very good, or excellent, but different. Each November when our families congregate, we discuss what they might be doing differently in their kitchen than in mine. I always smirk and reply, "The secret ingredient is Love."
This is not to imply any lack of love in my Aunt Susan's heart, or her family, In fact the opposite. But it is to say that what makes my soup unique to me, is that I prepare it each year with the love and an open heart, and the knowledge that it will be a joy to my loved ones. And that, my friends, will always translate into your food. They always say you get out what you put in, especially in reference to nutrition, but the adage extends to the energy that goes into your food as well. When you make food with love in your heart, you are sharing that love with everyone who eats it. Anyone can throw the right ingredients in a pan, but we've all tasted experienced this difference between our grandmother's cooking vs anybody else's. Grandma always wins.
In fact this recalls to mind a second anecdote. Ever since I can remember, my mother's mother used to make rainbow cookies at the holidays, three layers of almond cake, gloriously stuck together with jam and preserves, topped with chocolate. They go by other names, but Grandma always called them "rainbow cookies," so that's good enough for me. When I was in college, in a small art school with no meal plan, living on frozen chicken patties, pop tarts, and ramen noodles, Grandma would regularly send a tin of rainbow cookies in the mail, usually with a money order stashed inside for good measure... And say what you will, but very few things, even now, have ever tasted as good as those cookies. They became so sought after amongst my friends and classmates that I had to hide them, or lock them in my car for safekeeping. Love.
Last year, I thought I would initiate a little holiday bonding with Grandma, and asked if she would bring the recipe along for her Christmas visit, so that we might make them together. She's long given up heavy duty holiday baking, and at 86 I don't blame her, yet I had hallmarks visions of standing next to her, covered in flour, receiving little gems of wisdom as we shared this holiday ritual.
It turned out to be a disaster! Something I thought we would do together became something I did alone while Grandma critiqued, and at the end of the day, I was just flustered. I don't really know where it all went awry, but I will tell you this much: if there was something missing from my version, we can all be sure what it was. The cookies were fine, technically done the right way, yet mine were somehow more mechanical, just a frustrated guy in a kitchen, who never had much baking prowess to begin with, going through the motions. My point is, the nourishment will be received in the manner it was given, so why not add the love?
I think, also, that we can extend this idea a bit further. We're all aware, no matter how blissfully ignorant some us may try to remain, of the terrible conditions under which animals are factory-farmed for slaughter. We all know about the hormones, the steroids, the unsanitary, cramped living quarters. We've seen the documentaries, the chickens so beefed up, no pun intended, that their legs give out. It's not a pretty picture. Most of the time, we just try not to think about it.
Having said all this, I am not derailing a food and wellness blog into animal rights activism. Both have their place, and I want to keep this blog within the parameters I've envisioned for it. But my related point is this: how happy do you think those animals are?
It's my assumption that the average chicken doesn't spend her days happy. In fact I surmise that she spends her short life under constant stress, fear and depression. Frankly, I think it foolish to assume for a second that we aren't consuming that stress, fear and depression right along with the chicken. If you aren't woo-woo enough to accept this on a purely energetic level, then consider what we know about the chemical nature of stress and anxiety. It seems perfectly logical to me that if animal products are going to be consumed, then the happiness of the animal during its lifetime is crucial, and show respect and gratitude for the sacrifice the animal makes.
Oddly enough, this whole stream of consciousness came to last night while I was laying in bed, wide awake, having just returned home from a rousing evening of karaoke. I love to sing, and when I get up there, I like to ham it up and have fun with it, usually to the amusement of those around me. But last it I couldn't help noticing this little pocket of post-glory-days frat boys. For whatever reason, a confident gay man is very threatening to a certain segment of the male population, and it was clear that they were not entertained by my rendition of Poor, Unfortunate Souls. This was a shame for two reasons: first, my Ursula impression kicks some ass, and second, I could just feel the negativity coming from the other side of the room. The thing that struck me though wasn't fear, or anger, but sadness. I just feel overwhelmingly that I need to share the message, however cliche, that life is too short to be that frat guy, and be that afraid of other people's light, let alone shine your own. Forgive me if I sound a little flowery or saccharine, but it's true.
Cultivate your positive energy, in your food, in your family, I all aspects of your life. Especially in your karaoke.
Namaste.
- Posted using BlogPress
Location:Madison, CT
you really are brilliant. love you
ReplyDelete