The Holes In Our Hearts

 

It's only in the empty spaces that we can grow. 

Just about two years ago, when the last of my two grandfathers (pictured here with my grandmother) passed away, I remember thinking about emptiness more than I ever had before. Having your own emptiness is easier, I realized, than watching someone else suffer from emptiness, from a deep and transformative loss. 

There's this place of pain in between change and growth, and it's truly a force to be reckoned with. We can (and beautifully do) offer support to those who are hurting in the form of hugs, well wishes, laughter, kind words, and perhaps a cake -- and these actions are vital. They carry us when we can't carry ourselves. They keep us alive when we think we can't go on. But the only true healer is time. It's really only in the empty space, in the span of time where pain grows abundantly, that we can find ourselves again.

I look deeply at this photograph of my grandparents in 1955, and I suddenly remember why photography is so important to me. Good photographs are good because of the emptiness they contain. The best photos leave you asking dozens of questions but also manage to satisfy you and tell you a important story. They fill in an empty space while they create an empty space, which feels to be the perfect system, and the perfect representation of how we tend to live our lives. Empty? Fill. Fill? Empty. It's engrained, but I love the idea of trying to ditch that system, at least for a little while. So I'm trying to be patient, trying to figure out how to be less urgent in my intentions, less urgent in my desire to fill everything that feels so empty.

And so, as 2014 begins, I am trying to embrace emptiness: more spaces between glasses and mugs in the cabinets, a shelf with nothing on it, fewer shoes, an empty breadbox, time in which my body isn't moving frantically in order to get from point A to point B. Fewer things, more time, more air for breathing. The things we've lost, both willingly and unwillingly, are gone perhaps so that we can live more deeply and purposefully. Having things and being full make us feel good, but our real truths can only be seen when we have less. Crisis strikes or emptiness fills us and then, suddenly, the world can see who we actually are. When we have fewer things, cleaner slates, and emptier hearts, we are our real selves, and only then can we begin to truly understand the true depths of happiness and the possibilities of the human heart.   

I wish you a very happy and purposeful 2014, my dear readers. Take your time, honor emptiness, and live as big of a life as you can. And may you be patient with the holes in your hearts this year. You do, truly, deserve it.

The note that accompanied the photograph of my grandparents: a friend or relative had come across the photo and mailed it to them decades later. (And, yes, steak! Also, for some amazing reason, Hershey's Syrup.)

Food That Works

Person #1: Are you hungry?

Person #2: Yeah, are you?

Person #1: What do you feel like?

Person #2: Oh, I don't know...a sandwich, maybe? But I don't have much money. But I don't know where we'd go, since I only like really super-hot sandwiches. I'm not sure where to get something like that.

Person #1: That actually sounds pretty good. I'm so hungry right now, though. I wish I could have a sandwich right this second, while we're getting gas in the car at pump #2.

Person #2: I know, me too...WAIT A SECOND! What's this?! HOT HOT Breakfast Sandwich? Here?! At the gas station? For only $1.99?!

Person #1: We have to have it! Do you think they only have one sandwich available? Can you go check?

Person #2: (scampering to the gas station shop) I'm on it!

Rabbits, Grapefruit, Dog: The Best of 2013

RABBIT, RABBIT.

That should be the very first thing you say in the new year if you want the very best luck to come to you. If you neglected to do it this time around, then consider your good luck granted to you personally by me. And go ahead and braise some rabbits in 2014. Now that's good luck!

Everyone! Thanks so very much for being with me this year. It's been fast and slow and beautiful, fierce and shy and kind. I love sharing my food life with you, and I'm happy you're here. In no particular order, here are my top picks from 2013.

Happy 2014 and be well!

Tomato juice. Cocktail onions. Green peppers. Kohlrabi. Mussels. And, yes, grapefruit. These are a few of the things I've been trying to like for YEARS. So far, I've come part way on only one: grapefruit. I still don't like to eat grapefruit, but acquiring new tastes is quite a process for me sometimes. I do now have a newfound love for the urgent, tart, and earthy juice of a ruby red, especially in a cocktail or a smoothie. And that's progress!

I've realized and admitted that there isn't a time of day that I don't want to eat a hardboiled egg. I love them for every meal and every in-between, and I've even taken to having one before my coffee in the morning. Cooked just right, with deep but bright yellow yolks, they are sun pulling through the clouds. If I'm lucky enough to get my hands on some truly fresh eggs, I relish those creamy orange yolks, a true reward for a city girl like me. I crack the shell off on the cutting board, peel with a rebellion and an irreverence that is very unlike me, and slice it in half with a knife that's perfect for the job -- one whose blade is just as tall as the egg is when it's laying on its side. Cracks of black pepper, some flakes of Maldon salt, and sometimes a thin drizzle of olive oil, a tiny smear of Brownwood Farms Kream Mustard, or a little dollop of sweet relish. Really, why should egg salad have all the fun?

I am just now getting to know this versatile, delicious sauce, and, for crying out loud, I don't even know what "UB" means yet! I can't imagine a meat that wouldn't pair well with it, and I see it as a condiment/marinade/potion that could really take the world by storm. The square bottle itself is lovely, but the sauce is the real star. Good on everything? I plan on finding out just how true that is. 

Why would I buy a bag of quickly-drying-out Brussels sprouts for twice the cost of AN ENTIRE STALK of fresh, bright-green gems? (Well, as it turns out, a stalk has a lot of sprouts and unless you have a family of twelve, it may be slow work getting through the entire thing before it starts looking less-than-beautiful. But they do freeze, and what kind of person would pass up a stalk of something that is not only supremely nutritious and lush but that also makes a perfect weapon?)

Oregon Fruit Products, where do I begin? Your products are so magical, but your distribution is so spotty. This is challenging for me as a lover of your canned Royal Anne Cherries, but I will blame it on the grocery store buyers in Chicago, who seem to think that this product is not as important as I do. Happy was I several weeks ago when I stumbled upon four jars of these cherries in a tiny, cramped, and truly amazing supermarket called Big Apple Foods. Yes, they are $6 a can, and yes, they are worth it! I love that this company has been around for ages, and their beautiful art deco-style labels are hard to beat. Grown in the Pacific Northwest, I plan on sending my dear friend and Seattle-dweller Aimee to the farm to make friends with these fruit guys. Besides being a key ingredient in my great-great grandmother's ambrosia recipe, I've been using them lately to pair with this incredible cheese from Idyll Farms:

Which brings me to #6 on the list! This new(ish) Alpine goat farm and creamery on Michigan's Leelanau Peninsula has simply turned my world around. These folks (and goats!) create the kind of cheese that makes you want to never eat any other goat cheese for the rest of your life. It is the deepest, steadiest, smoothest, and most sublime cheese I have ever had. What I know is that everyone involved in this operation is doing everything right, and it shows. From the gregarious, charming man who sells their cheeses at the Northport Farmers Market, to the people who turned their lives 180 degrees to start this farm and create the thing they love most, it's a perfect model of business, and the perfect model of cheese. Does Murray like this cheese? Yes, of course. He does, after all, know when a cheese is destined for greatness. Thank you, Idyll Farms. You are not only the finest cheese I have tasted this year, but honestly the best I have tasted in my entire 34 years. Keep it up! It's beautiful.

Speaking of Murray, who has a new year's resolution of losing about ten pounds, loves this peanut butter even more than its over-sugared, over-salted for-humans counterpart. A whisper of this stuff in his purple Kong and he is transfixed, transported, and, frankly, the happiest dog on the planet. As he's working on licking it out of his toy, he glances up at me every once in awhile to just gaze at me with the brightest eyes and a smile of true gratitude. (Plus, I buy one and one is given to a needy dog? Yes please!)

My brother's girlfriend, Roisin, has absolutely excellent taste in gifts, and she's so good at choosing exactly the right thing for everyone. In fact, last year, she made the Best of 2012 list! Remember that amazing list book that I am so madly in love with? From her! So, she got me these really good dish scrubbers made of peach pits. Stronger, less gross, and less blue than SOS pads, they are amazing in that they will remove any gunk or funk but won't ever scratch your dishes -- not even your nonstick pans! And they are machine-washable! Miracle of science, miracle of gift-giving, miracle of scrub-ability.

I've been trying to de-gluten this past year, and I couldn't have done it without these amazing products. Versatile and supremely healthy, they are absolutely perfect for baking. So, watch out, wheat! Brown rice and oats are coming, and they're wielding Brussels sprout stalks!

Speaking of not eating gluten, I just can't get enough of this doughnut chain in the Chicago suburbs called Spunky Dunkers. First of all, try to find a better name for a doughnut shop. You can't! Second, try to find a more Mayberry-like interior, old-timey and practically surreal. Third, these doughnuts are really, really good.

Dish of the year: chop chae. It's a Korean miracle! I've always loved noodle dishes, but this one was the true winner this year. Relatively easy to make, chop chae is the perfect balance of flavors, and is endlessly satisfying. Glassy, glossy sweet potato noodles, cabbage, carrot, and green onion, all stir-fried in sesame oil and sweetened soy sauce, this dish is simple and perfect. I add Sriracha, peanuts, lime, which gives it a Thai-sort of flair. This is the dish I could eat every single day. 

I have a newfound love for pears. Bosc, Anjou, Comice, Bartlett: give me all your pears! I like them a bit battered but still somewhat firm, and I always want them with cheese. Want to impress me? Bring me a ripe wedge of Camembert, a hardboiled egg, a slice of rustic, pillowy bread, and a pear. Add on a cup of coffee or a glass of Prosecco, and I am all yours. Oh, and is that a square of dark chocolate in your bag? Sounds perfect.

In early November, we took a venture to Ohio to visit my dear and darling friend, Meghan, who birthed a splendid little girl in July. It had been ages since we'd seen each other, because this country did its best to keep us very far apart for several years. But we were together again, and cooking side by side in her kitchen like we used to. With our other friends giggling and clinking out in the yard to collectively maintain the pork on the grill, the two of us fell back into our kitchen system, shimmying around each other, stepping over dogs, slicing, searing, boiling pots over, laughing, and cursing. We'd stop to just look at each other sometimes, marveling at our good fortune. Though only for one dinner, we were together again, dancing our kitchen dance, and riding the cooking wave that we started on over a decade ago when we were so lucky as to live together. Dinner at Meghan's that night wasn't just a meal. It was a chapter in a book, a breeze through my heart, a piece of perfection.

Lucky Break Wishbones, you do it all! You stand in for all those real wishbones that are too small, too greasy, and never plentiful enough. You look like a real wishbone, you feel like a real wishbone, and when I buy a pack of 50, you give everyone at the Thanksgiving table multiple opportunities to get the bigger half. Brilliant, beautiful, and fair: just like every turkey dreams of being.

Sugar, you know, is a drug. These gummi bears, though, they're a lifestyle. The company is called Albanese, and every one of their jewely bears has a tiny A on its belly to prove it. Headquartered in Merrillville, Indiana, which is about an hour from Chicago, the outlet store calls to me, begging me to come to this land of colored sugar, where every one of the twelve flavors is about as perfect as an artificial flavor can be. And they aren't ordinary gummi bears. They are the softest, most perfectly chewy bears on the planet. Distribution is awkward: Roisin (who introduced me to these bears!) and I like to get them at the butcher shop, Gepperth's, on Halsted, but some small grocery stores carry them too. Every store that carries the bears buys in bulk and bags or boxes them up in their own way, so it's important to always look for the most airtight packaging you can find. Fresh and shining like perfect gems, this is the candy I hate to love. But I do. See that seafoam green-colored one? That's the very best flavor.

Ninety-nine cents. That's it. This bottle of salty, spicy, silky hot sauce will cost you less than a persimmon. It's sold everywhere in Chicago, although I suspect distribution is perhaps limited to the city only. They also offer a giant bottle (at least a liter) for $2.99, which leads me to think that if you called the factory and asked nicely, they would probably fill up your bathtub with this stuff for less than ten bucks. For once, I have set aside the Cholula. It's Valentina for now.

Speaking of budget deals, this is the finest $11 bottle of whiskey this side of anywhere. Clean, sharp, and smooth, and suitable for mixing or drinking by itself, this is my whiskey of the year.

Another golden liquid in a tall bottle! Rice bran oil, as it turns out, is the new grapeseed oil. Extracted from the germ and inner husk of rice, rice bran oil is notable for its VERY high smoke point of 450 degrees. This means you can fry with less splattering or get things golden brown or perfectly crispy without burning them, and, like grapeseed oil, it's touted for its health benefits. It's also excellent in just about any scenario that would typically call for vegetable oil or olive oil. It's light, versatile, and, basically, a total powerhouse in the kitchen.

My kitchen towels used to plague me. They were all different, and not all of them were actually good at kitchen tasks like wiping, drying, absorbing, and scrubbing. Every time I needed a fresh towel, I dreaded it. The choice was overwhelming. Do I pick the absorbent one that leaves white lint on everything? Do I pick the one that is beautiful but not very business-oriented? Or, I just dried my hands with this soft one, and now I want to use it to wipe the counter, but I can't because I don't want to stain it! This other one is in tatters but it's the most effective towel I have! Help! Finally, this year, I came to my senses. I ditched them all for an entire case of bar mops. Every one, identical. No hemming and hawing. Every last one, durable, absorbent, and practical. They are simple, and they do it all. Bleachable and perfect. When one gets holes or stains, I'm not sad about letting it go. There are dozens in the stack on the hutch, and I won't lie -- the uniformity is really, really appealing to me.

Last but not least! Not only #20 in the list, but my #1 love this year, and by far the most important and beautiful project I have ever embarked upon. Murray started his job as my sous chef in January, and he got off to a VERY rocky start. He was blockaded out of the kitchen in those days because he wouldn't let me just cook. He broke through and over blockades though, which was both infuriating and hysterical. Now I know that he, like anyone in a new kitchen, needs time to understand the space and find the best way to use it. Now that we know each other well, and our hearts understand each other, we can cook together and be together in one of the most fluid partnerships I've ever had. 

So, thanks, Murray. You are my near-perfect cooking companion. My in-the-way rug, my patient friend, my gentle giant. My muse, my peace, and my official cheese-taster. My always-there-for-me, always-happy, always-eager, forever calm polar bear. The gentlest, most loving animal I could ever have the pleasure of knowing. My kitchen dog. My mascot. Murray.

Happy New Year, everyone!

Lots of love to you and those you love.