I stop suddenly on the trail, leering to the left, then swinging right. Taking it all in. This is one of my favorite places in the world. The place where W proposed, where we walked and ran together that last summer here. Where visiting friends and family were brought. Where I escaped Biology 212 and pondered life instead.
Serenity. Belonging. Ownership. These feelings wash over me.
Breath in. Release. And running again.
I opt for an out and back and take it all in again from the opposite direction, this time reveling in the change of light and the minty-summery-grassy aroma. Watch the sheep far off in the back pasture.
“Life goes on, day after day, but it also has the ability to reinvent itself, to start over.”
Farmers markets. Checking out my “must read” books from the library. Lazing away a post-5k afternoon, curled up with W. Somehow getting my body up and out the door to run 11 miles on a Sunday morning and then getting myself to church. Experiences I didn’t let myself enjoy this past year. Until now.
After months of unease and indecisiveness, starting over. Back to the place that feels like home. The college town that’s been in my dreams. I’ve longed for a sense of community, for fitting in where my values lie. For meeting new and catching up with old friends. I’m anxious to begin. Already beginning. W’s advice “don’t push it; let it happen,” as I restlessly wait for him to join me permanently in the fall. I’d like for everything to come into place all at once, but we’re easing back in to the thick of things.
“This is what the seasons show us. We all have marveled at the apple tree’s ability to rest through a dark, cold winter, then to grow new leaves in the spring, to blossom again, to bear fruit.” We’ve been waiting through the long winter these last couple years. We’re ready to let our flowers bloom. Grow those apples, I say.
Later, a moment’s jaunt from our new abode, W and I walk through the forest of ferns and Oregon grape, oak and Douglas fir. We contemplate this transition. Our journey has many unknowns. As one of us is uncertain, the other has been given divine wisdom to trust the process. It is a back and forth sort of thing, and we have always worked this way, it seems. Through the major decisions, this leaning on each other. Today, I encourage W to settle in to the journey, to welcome the ups and downs. Both are progress. We are moving forward again. To new beginnings.
Quotes are taken from The Runner’s Guide to the Meaning of Life by Amby Burfoot.
This salad was inspired by a recent trip to Whole Foods Market. I wandered around and around the prepared foods counter until I finally settled on the salad with raisins. It was a solid choice, and I knew I needed to recreate the recipe. I changed the ingredients up a bit, by using millet and adding the summer squash, which in a greedy moment, I snatched more than was needed from my mom’s garden. If you do not have millet, feel free to substitute quinoa or couscous. Don’t skip the raisins, they add the perfect counter balance to the Middle Eastern-inspired spices.
Savory-Sweet Summer Squash Salad, serves 3-4 as a side dish
The vegetables in this can easily be interchanged. Sautéing diced eggplant instead of bell pepper is a great addition for the Middle Eastern flavors.
Recipe Updated: 8/25/21
1/8 tsp. ground allspice
1/2 tsp. fennel seeds
1/2 tsp. ground cumin
1/2 tsp. ground coriander
1/2 tsp. ground turmeric
pinch of black pepper
1/4 tsp. sea salt
1/4 cup raisins
3/4 cup millet, uncooked
1 1/2 cups water
Juice of 1/2 a medium lemon
2 Tbs. olive oil plus more for sautéing
1/2 Tbs. raw honey
1 medium onion, diced
1/2 red bell pepper, diced
1 medium zucchini, diced
1 medium yellow summer squash, diced
fresh basil or cilantro, optional
- To begin, bring water, spices, salt, and raisins to boil in a heavy saucepan. When boiling, gently stir in millet and cover with a lid. Lower heat to simmer and cook for 25 minutes. When done, set aside.
- While grain is cooking, stir together the lemon juice, honey, and olive oil. Set aside.
- Dice onion, bell pepper, and summer squashes into a medium dice. Heat a large sauté pan over medium-high. Pour in enough olive oil to lightly coat bottom of pan. When hot, add the onion, and sauté for 15-20 minutes, until slightly caramelized. After about 15 minutes, stir in the bell pepper. Add a dash of water as needed to help caramelize.
- When onions are sweet and golden, stir in the zucchini and summer squash. Sauté for 5-10 more minutes until squash is slightly soft. Stir in the cooked millet and the dressing. Adjust seasoning and sprinkle with finely minced fresh basil or cilantro, about 1 tablespoon per serving.
“Go into yourself and see how deep the place is from which your life flows; at its source you will find the answer to the question of whether you must create. Accept that answer, just as it is given to you.”
– Letters to a Young Poet, Rainier Maria Rilke
The truth is, the beginning is blurry. When I squint back into the depths of my childhood, my thoughts were not long off of food. I would take cookbooks to bed at night, squinting into the flashlight-shadows, long after my sister had demanded I put our shared, bunk-bedded room into darkness. Looking back at the shy, quiet, anxious little person that I was then, I recall only that I felt most at home in the kitchen. I still do.
It began then, I think, with playdough. My mom mixed up homemade playdough. I remember seeing the recipe on a worn index card in her gray metal recipe box, a box that to this day holds her most cherished recipes. There were two recipes in that box that were beyond intriguing to my child-mind: elephant ears and playdough. The first was something that I had never considered could be made outside of a hot, steamy, trailer-kitchen at the county fair. The second was the only non-food recipe that I’ve ever known my mom to have on hand. I must have asked her, and she mixed up a batch for us. I don’t remember much after beyond the whirl of the mixer blades, and the fact that my mom brought me into the kitchen, handed me the measuring cups, and taught me fractions.
From that moment when I learned to turn on the mixer, to scoop flour into the measuring cups, to follow recipe instructions, up to now, nearly 20 years later, I’ve been most at home in any place surrounded by food. It fascinates me in its cultural symbolism, use as a socio-economic tool and weapon, as a draw to family gatherings and entire holiday celebrations, and, most importantly, in its most simple form as basic sustenance for the hunger in all of us.
In those simple childhood days, those most-remembered foods symbolize the dearly loved and oft-hated. My favorites from that gray box included our neighbor’s recipe for honey-cinnamon swirl rolls, my mom’s homemade bread, and leftover-oatmeal cookies with just the right amount of spice. There was my favorite breakfast, dad’s “stinkbug porridge”, which was a simple concoction of raisins and brown sugar. And then the fresh milk from our cow, Betsy, with flakes of cream floating amongst my morning cheerios. I had to plug my nose to get the milk down after staying an extra hour at the table gathering the resolve to drink it. Now looking back, I realize what a precious experience to have been raised in a place where our milk came right from the cow.
In this new year and new beginning of sorts, I am reminded of how I am drawn to food as a means of communication and connection. I am reminded of the beginning, how I learned in the kitchen with my mom and the whirl of the blender blades that are still in her cupboard today. I am reminded that food is special, and that when I go into myself, as Rilke suggests, the only answer I come back with is, yes, I must create.
Though I can no longer enjoy thick slices of my mom’s bread, or partake in flecks of cream floating in the cow’s milk, I hold in my heart and in my cooking a focus on good, simple, nourishing food, in whatever way it can be most enjoyed. I am looking forward to this year to come, and the creations it will bring.
Pomegranate, Kale & Pancetta Spaghetti, serves 3
Pomegranates have been often in our kitchen this winter, more than ever before. This creation happened spontaneously and naturally, out of ingredients we had on hand one evening. It will become a favorite, I’m thinking, in the many wintery days ahead. If you have not used pomegranate molasses, it can be found at a well-stocked grocery store, online, or you can make your own by reducing pomegranate juice in a sauce pan. Don’t leave it out in this dish; it will be missed.
6 oz. brown-rice spaghetti (or any type that you prefer)
4 oz. pancetta, diced
1 medium onion, chopped
1 large bunch kale, chopped (I prefer Tuscan but any type will do)
1/4 tsp. salt
3 Tbs. pomegranate molasses
1 Tbs. orange zest
seeds from one pomegranate
salt and black pepper, to taste
GUTSy Performance Nutrition 