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As I write this, the first week of October, the wounds we’ve suffered as a nation are still fresh, in my heart and yours. There is much that awaits us, and nothing is certain. It will be a miracle now if more suffering does not follow, possibly to innocent families caught up in a war they had nothing to do with, but now that fall is here, my days of panic are gone. I can count on this seasonal transition to carry me back to a place I haven’t visited much lately: home. When the weather cools, I instinctively turn inward, preparing for the darker, cooler days to come — especially this year. Though my energy is quieting and I find myself doing positive things to support my own sense of balance and groundedness, there’s something invigorating about a crisp autumn day and the simple pleasure of getting back into the kitchen after summer hiatus. And so my sorrow recedes in the onrush of guests and a now-bustling kitchen, and I am back on track. I share love with my family by feeding them, and, naïve as it may be, I find myself hoping that in some way, feeding my children honors all children everywhere. I am not sorry or ashamed for the security and abundance I enjoy. Everyone should have certain necessary — and unnecessary — things. I honor the suffering and despair of others not by having disdain for my own blessings, but by being grateful for them. I worry about whether the Afghan children can eat, and I will pray for them by serving my loved ones. My children instinctively look to me to see how to handle life, and I am the one who sets the tone for each day. While they will be happy to tell you that I am nobody’s model for moderate emotional behavior, when the terrorist attacks occurred, I knew I had downplay my own alarm. Without realizing entirely what I was doing, I started making soup. The first week after the tragedies, I sent my daughter’s fifth-grade class two gallons of Russian cabbage soup with sour cream (at least the teacher liked it). Next I broke the house rule and bought bacon for a vat of potato soup that everyone devoured regardless of his or her chosen food "ism." Two days later I made a classic chicken-noodle soup with organically fed free-range chicken. My normally fussy children, too busy eating, didn’t complain. All of us are feeling bolstered by what used to be called a potage, an old word meaning thick, nourishing soup. Our nutritional needs change with the seasons, and soups are perfect as the transition meal. They’re easy, quick, and the ultimate in comfort foods. Moreover, the potential for immune building and overall nourishment can’t be topped, depending on the ingredients. You can include soup in a meal as a lighter, brothy accompaniment to the main course, create a hearty dish that serves as the centerpiece, or even make a seaweed soup like a liquid salad. If you’re making a light soup, consider using a miso-based recipe. This enzyme-rich soybean, barley, or rice paste contains a special mold called koji that is fermented for several months or years. Salty and almost meaty in flavor, miso is excellent not only for the considerable flavor it lends foods but also its digestive and immune-enhancing properties. The cultures in miso assist the body in breaking down foods for assimilation later in the intestinal tract, and it’s also around 10-20% protein. Most impressively, miso has also been shown to act favorably on those with radiation poisoning, as shown in studies that were underway in Japan when atomic bombs hit Nagasaki and Hiroshima. Just don’t forget to include a few veggies, which bring balance to the contractive, grounding energy in miso. If soup is to be your main meal, the possibilities are endless. Choose a primary, defining ingredient, such as tempeh, noodles, or a grain or bean. Then build around this food with a vegetable base, seasonings, thickeners (if desired), and a garnish. Many a soup is improved with a dash of rice or cider vinegar just before serving. If yours lacks something, try that. If you’re vegan or otherwise lactose-intolerant, substitute almond or peanut butter for your base and see what happens. The plant-based fats in these foods make them satisfying in the same way cow’s milk is, and many people can’t even tell the difference. It’s really good. A quick tip for thickeners: try puréeing a portion of the soup and adding it back in before serving, or use arrowroot or oatmeal to thicken. Check a cookbook for exact directions, as arrowroot dissipates after thickening if left on heat too long. Above all, remember that making soup is a creative act that sometimes comes together out of real chaos. Being centered when preparing it will help you act intuitively about what should be added — or done without — to improve flavor, texture, and appearance. Here’s a colorful recipe from the classic Moosewood Cookbook by Mollie Katzen that uses chickpeas, a staple in diets throughout the Arab world: 2 medium-sized ripe tomatoes Heat a medium-sized saucepan full of
water to boiling. Core the tomatoes; plunge them into the boiling
water for a slow count of ten. Remove the tomatoes and peel them
over a sink. Cut them open; squeeze out and discard the seeds.
Chop the remaining pulp and set aside. Soup is such an able metaphor: symbol of hearth and home, a cure for what ails us, and maybe even a teaching aid. In his book Healing With Whole Foods, Paul Pitchford writes that even foods that normally should not be consumed together for digestive reasons are easily absorbed in our systems in the form of a long-simmered soup, because the foods have broken down to the degree that their life forces intermingle. Everything, Pitchford says, "makes peace in the pot." May we, as members of the global family, find peace in our pots this Thanksgiving season. Recipe reprinted with permission from The New Moosewood Cookbook by Mollie Katzen. Copyright © 1977, 1992, 2000 Tante Malka, Inc., Ten Speed Press, Berkeley, CA. Visit Mollie Katzen online at <www.molliekatzen.com>. |
My psyche is still
being ravaged by the September attacks. I already live under
siege mentality on a daily basis, and now worst-case scenarios
play through my head alongside whether or not to take a long
bath. I feel a new, raw sense of my own mortality, and everything
has changed — for the better! In one bold stroke, I’ve
been forced to rethink where my energy was going and how I was
moving through time. It was an almost instantaneous moment of
"aha." Have you, too, remembered to move more slowly
on the earth, to be more aware of its great and transient beauty?
This Thanksgiving, I’m grateful just to feel grateful. How
precious life is!