On purpose

When I was a kid it was usually my job to make the salad for dinner. As my mom’s sous chef I got to set the table and do little errands. “My hands are dirty, get me the big silver bowl,” or “Go out to the storeroom and get me a jar of pickles.”

As I got older, I got to help with the side dishes, like peeling potatoes or making guacamole. For some reason, making a salad was my least favorite side dish job — and of course, that was the one Mom asked me to do most often. There was nothing fun about making a salad. It’s a lot of work to chop a bunch of stuff, and in the end it doesn’t taste that good anyway. You have the iceburg lettuce, tomato, onion, maybe some carrots. Probably the best part of making a salad was shaking the ranch packet with milk and mayonnaise in the pourable tupperware container.  But even that sucked. In my mind, I only made the salad because Mom didn’t want to do it. The exciting part was making the mashed potatoes, frying the chicken and blanching the sweet corn. But I wasn’t allowed to do the fun stuff. I had to make the stupid salad. I’d throw it together in a second or two and run off before Mom could ask me to do something else.*

It seems a lot of us often rush to do most things in our daily lives so that we can have more time to do what we “really” want to do. In normal life (ha, I refer to my non-sabbatical life as “normal life”) I get up and do last night’s dishes before showering, then off to an early morning meeting, then to the office, then to a meeting, then speed through e-mails, go to another meeting, then rush through reading some documents and replying to e-mails. After work, I stop at the grocery and take the shortest route home (always in a car), flip through the mail, make dinner and off to the reading group, social activity, or event. Next I come home and put in a load of laundry, then drop into bed feeling guilty about a friend I haven’t called or a task that went undone. Making dinner is simply one more “nexts” after a long day of other “nexts” and it’s usually followed by another “off to.” Just one more thing to get through.

Having time to just be has made space for me to enjoy simple things like making dinner. My favorite part is spending a long while cutting vegetables. I go meditatively, gratefully — especially as the sunrays make magic time on the large cutting board below our west-facing kitchen window. I lay out my vegetables, wash them carefully, checking for critters and mud. I shake them in the drainer and even wait for the water to dribble out. I go the extra mile and towel off the kale if needed. Mushrooms are liquid sponges so instead of mass-washing them I brush them off, one by one.

I make that first slice into a potato, and see a tiny spray of juices in the sunlight. Potatoes are juicy? I let my finger feel the waxy skin of a pepper, or a papery red onion, examining for soft spots. A cold carrot requires a little more muscle than an unrefrigerated one. I prefer the ones with their feathery tops still attached. A mushroom slices silently, without effort.  I watch the knife glide through a julienned pepper before cutting it crosswise, more loudly now, to chop it into the tiniest of pieces.

Gathering and washing and cutting is not a barrier to me getting on to the “next” thing…or to something more fun, exciting or relaxing. Sure, I love the creativity of seasoning, the changing colors of sauteing, the thrill of flipping and the beauty of plating the food. But I love the slow chopping too. What if all of life, all of the time, where experienced as something we actually wanted and gratefully intended to do? On purpose.

*Ironically, now, salads are one of the things I enjoy making most. Over the last few years, salads have become my specialty. They are a way for me to pair random (sometimes fading) ingredients to make a pretty, creative and tasty meal. Granted I now have Caleb, my very own sous chef and I know how wonderful it is to have someone to chop the veggies!

Fun stuff of late:

These are good raw (and safe)! We used half the syrup and put dark chocolate chips in them.

Went to Chicago last weekend. The car ride and walking the windy city were both so much fun, but it was the company and conversation that made it a dream.

I’ve overdosed on non-fiction — it’s nearly (except for this, Ali. Let’s talk) all I’ve read since I got here. I told myself I couldn’t start any new books until I finished the three I’d already started but absolutely no movement has occurred. But yesterday I gave up the silly self-rule and set them aside. I am now flying through this wonderful novel.

Last night I was feeling lazy but had spent all the money in Chicago so we weren’t gonna eat out. Caleb challenged me to make a meal with what we already had in the fridge. Of course, I made a salad! CSA lettuce, bacon, boiled egg, the last of some blue cheese crumbles, red onion, croutons made from hamburger buns, topped with pickled asparagus and homemade warm bacon and fresh dill dressing modified from this recipe. It was so delicious, better than going out!

Relatedly, I found a Mennonite cooking blog, score!! I”ll be sure to gain more weight if I keep browsing this one. I think I’m going to have a try at making Wareneki. Hope it’s like Grandma’s — what do you think of the recipe, Mom?

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