crack the plates

A surprisingly confessional & somewhat depressing post. Hold on to your hats.

Several reasons we should have dinner together:

Veggie cashew tom yum curry, shared with friends Lindsey & Chris.

My plate, close-up.

Indian feast, shared with friends Kelly & Chris.

Sweet roasted root vegetables and bhindi masala, enjoyed with friend Dave.

Dinner plate:

When I lived in Atlanta (particularly post-undergrad) my favorite thing to do was throw a dinner party & have lots of friends over. It’s almost unreasonable how effortless it was to send out a mass text or quick e-mail and, just a few hours later, be greeted by a half dozen or more of my favorite people. So many of my best memories revolve around food: like the time I prepared a full-on Mediterranean-style mezze meal for my best friend Jina that featured hand-stuffed vegan dolmades (grape leaves; not to mention tabouli, baba ghanoush, hummus, and more). Or the time my ex & I slaved in a hot June kitchen putting together possibly the most overblown Southern meal of my life–collards, cornbreads, chick’n fried tofu smothered in gravy, skillet corn, fried okra, fried squash…the list goes on. Or the year “Christmas” to my nearest & dearest meant a lavish Indian-style meal served in courses on pillows in the gorgeous condo where I was house-sitting at the time. Not to mention the fact that more than a couple of friends chose to introduce me to their newest sig ot over a shared dinner. Preparing food together is a great way to get to know someone, and it’s always fun to gossip about a new beau’s knife-skills (or lack thereof) later.

Make no mistake: these things happened on a weekly basis. Despite being busy employees (of art magazines, non-profits, hospitals, restaurants, and major research universities; third-shift included) and grad students, we made time for one another. Sure, I was often the catalyst, providing the welcoming home and the good food, but folks showed an interest. They showed up.

I grieve for the fact that, here in Richmond, it has not been so easy. My friends are often so perennially over-scheduled that I seem to have to start checking dates or soliciting for these ridiculous doodle polls weeks in advance. We lack a culture of breezy stop-ins and drop-bys…regrettably, the few times I’ve bucked the trend and just gone for it, it’s been a little hairy. (Not that anyone’s ever been inhospitable–but the surprise showed.) Our buzzword is, tragically, “busy”–but for what? Unprogrammed time, unregimented schedules, & spontaneous fun are in perilously short supply. Why? Is anyone happier for it? I know I’m not. At the risk of being overly confessional, I recently posted several pictures from happy days/meals past on my wall to remind me of gentler times…and to give me hope that one day I’ll be having those great parties again.

And there are glimmers of hope. Recently a friend stopped by, totally unexpected, and we ended up having a joyful hour-long conversation over tea. I wasn’t even recovered yet from a recent illness, but her presence filled me with energy and life. I know that now is not, with 32 packed days left til my Master’s thesis is turned in, a particularly auspicious time to start throwing dinner parties…or even encouraging all of my friends to show up at the doorstep anytime they please. But I do plan on continuing to cultivate an open, hospitable spirit, such that when these 32 days have been conquered I can apply myself with renewed vigor to friendship-building through food. Perhaps in so doing I’ll slowly be able to loosen my vice-grip on past memories, dear as they are.

But I can’t do this without you. We’ve gotta build this together.

A necessary post-script: Thanks to those who are already doing it, who inspire me, who’ve made time for dinner and meaningful conversation. You are the reason this post has pictures. :)

My dear friend Jacquie over at Constant Conversion has been doing Photo Friday posts recently. This week she channels Cookie (“‘C’ is for..”) & the rest of the Sesame Street gang with a focus on the letter T & what it stands for in her life right now: tea, teamwork, & treasures. And what a treasure of a post it was! Best of all, she inspired me to start my own “Photo Friday” series: food pics Friday is here!

These pictures were taken when Nate & I visited our friend Catherine (and, to a lesser extent, the Interfaith Youth Core Annual Conference) in Chicago last October. Let me tell you about Arya Bhavan! Just a short bus ride from C’s place in the historically German Lincoln Square Neighborhood (where a piece of the Berlin Wall resides in a bus station), Arya Bhavan is located on Devon Avenue in “the heart of India town in Chicago”. A night view from the other side of the street:

The food was delicious, the setting serene:

You might not expect to have too much contact with wait staff at a buffet restaurant, but Arya Bhavan is different. We were immediately greeted by a polite, kind young host who led us to a table, provided drinks, & invited us to the buffet. I have no idea how he guessed, but it’s a testament to his extraordinary hospitality skills that he immediately confirmed our veganism–and then thoughtfully took us through the the large buffet, pointing out what was “suitable”. (Happily, over 80% of the offerings were vegan!)

I was over the moon for his hospitality at this point–but then he secretly notified the kitchen of our presence & asked the cooks to prepare a special vegan garlic & onion naan! We felt like royalty when our special surprise arrived:

Make no mistake–I later lavished praise upon him in front of the management.

The meal itself was divine, though we both needed Tums later. (Spicy!) Here’s a shot of Nate’s plate:

I highly recommend Arya Bhavan for all of the reasons described (pictured!) above–and particularly for the price. The dinner buffet was $11/person not including drinks (but we just got water). Next time I’m in Chicago you bet I’m showing up with an empty stomach, a handful of antacids, & a few hours to spare.

As a bonus, here are a couple of embarrasing shots of Nate & me enjoying vegan avocado bubble tea in Chinatown:

greasy hair, gigantic grin, tapioca tooth.

As you probably already know, I hosted a successful free sale about a month ago. (For more details and DIY suggestions, check out my earlier write-up). Over thirty “shopped” and about half of the attendees also brought items for sharing. While this was a wonderful surprise, it also meant that at the end of the day, we had much, much more than what we’d started with. Oh, what to do?

The natural response was to take everything to a local thrift store (or two, to spread the love). But as I sorted through the items to be donated, I noticed that many of them could–should–be put to use immediately. Like the 20 or so jackets that didn’t get taken, or the half-dozen good-quality men’s sweaters. I didn’t feel comfortable taking these kinds of items to the thrift stores where employees & volunteers readily share the fact that it often takes months for clothes to get on the racks. (I don’t know about you, but I’ve seen the gigantic intake rooms of the local Goodwill and Salvation Army–not pretty.) What good does it do to donate high-demand, seasonal warm clothes in January if they may not make it out til June?

Also: the focus was on free. Goodwill & Salvation Army are certainly cheap–but they’re not free. I hosted a free “sale” to move myself & others towards an anti-consumer vision of simple abundance & sharing. How to continue in that spirit?

I decided to contact local community centers & direct aid organizations. I first called GENESIS of the YWCA, our overburdened & perennially underfunded domestic violence, sexual assault, & homeless agency serving women in Wayne & four other area counties. I was sadly informed that they could not accept further material donations because they’ve dwindled down to one volunteer who, alone, is slowly chipping away at the mountain of donations from times past. In short, the receptionist explained, GENESIS is not able to reach women in need with some of these items because they simply don’t have the people-power to organize & distribute what is already there. Because this need made my own desire to donate impossible, I placed an announcement soliciting volunteers in our church bulletin &  received a great response. (If you’re in the 47374-area and want to volunteer, just let me know–I’m coordinating volunteer orientation in early March. And if you can’t donate you’re time, they’re still accepting donations of money, food, and cleaning products. More info here.)

Rebuffed by GENESIS, I next tried AMIGOS, Richmond’s Latino/a Center. I explained my situation; amazingly, the person who answered had tried a kind of free sale of her own at AMIGOS just a month prior! She breezily recounted how she had to strongly encourage the suspicious young moms & other community members to take advantage of the items that had been laid out for free. “Our friends are not used to getting things for free. Here, they work hard for what little they have and don’t expect anything else. They have a hard time accepting these valuable items as no-strings-attached gifts.” She also provided some insight into the cultural differences of the US and Mexico (where she lived for a while & where many of AMIGOS’ clients call home): in the US, she explained, you can be wealthy, your brother dirt-poor, & nobody questions your character. The poor brother is blamed for his personal moral/etc failings. In Mexico, that isn’t okay. If your sister or brother is hungry or homeless, you do whatever you can to help.” After a great in-person conversation we set a date for the big AMIGOS free sale!

I admit, the desire to reach out in this particular way didn’t just pop into my mind–my mom inspired it. For most of my childhood she worked in the grounds (landscaping) department of an elite private Atlanta country club (golf course); she was the only Bobcat-driving woman in that hardscrabble department & most of her colleagues were undocumented immigrants, many doing unskilled manual labor. Every year or so she’d round up our family’s ill-fitting clothes & take them to Atlanta for distribution among the friends with whom she regularly shared lunch, cracked jokes, & picked up new delightfully dirty words. It was a profoundly meaningful act of giving, even at a young age.

I support donating to thrift stores; after all, that’s where I get the majority of my clothes and household items! But I don’t think any of us ought to underestimate the impact of giving directly in our communities. We can seek out opportunities to improve the quality of life for others by giving our time & material resources to organizations doing local good. Next time you have a pile of clothes, useful household items, or the like, check locally for women’s shelters/centers, substance-abuse recovery homes, tutoring programs–whichever you think might be in a good position to receive whatever you have to give.

I learned that people are ready to respond with generous hearts–they just might need the opportunity! In the days leading up to the AMIGOS event I solicited donations at church & encouraged my friends to ask their friends for donations. In addition to offering some of her own daughter’s former items, one friend connected me with a mom who literally filled our car with boxes and bags of toys, baby clothes, children’s books, and similar in-demand items. jackpot, I thought, as I made a housecall to pick up the abundance. Other friends donated a dresser that was quickly scooped up by a local family at the event.

The most memorable moment of the event was, for me, when I noticed a young boy, about seven, flipping through some of the donated books. He’d taken a fancy to a few but wasn’t quite sold on James and the Giant Peach, one of my childhood favorites, til I started excitedly telling him the story of the little boy with the horrible aunts who climbs up into a magic giant peach, meets some crazy new friends, and travels all the way to New York City! He hung on to my every word, eyes widening, mouth slowly gaping, til finally I finished & he asked softly–”Do you mind if I take that one home?”

Open yourself to such moments! Host, or facilitate, a free sale today! Some inspirational photos from the event:

In the weeks leading up to Christmas, my friend Matt encouraged our congregation to consider the ways we can embody the counter-cultural, anti-materialistic message of Jesus in one of the most insanely commercial times of the year. (You know, that time when Christians are supposed to be so joyously anticipating the advent of his radical life & message?) On several Sundays, folks shared their plans: donate an equal amount spent on gifts to a charitable organization, write a few meaningful cards instead of sending a slew of autographed pages, making presents instead of buying, hosting parties instead of giving individual gifts. All great ideas.

I’ve had the opportunity to spend some time studying 60′s counter-culture while in seminary, particularly that of the diggers & yippies, and so I naturally wanted to try to organize a “free sale” for my community. Free stores/sales still pop up every once in a while, but they’re by no means as common or popular as they once were. The diggers who opened the first stores claimed that Americans (Amerikans?) had entered a post-scarcity world where new items no longer needed to be produced or purchased. Instead, whatever you needed was likely sitting unused (or underused) at your buddy’s house, and too much was being thrown needlessly in the trash. Beloved communities didn’t need superstores to buy more; instead, they yearned for a centrally-located space where people could share what they no longer needed and the needy could take home whatever might improve their lot.

Fast-forward about 40 years. Nate & I realized that much of what we own we don’t need for a variety of reasons–don’t use/don’t like/have duplicates, etc. The clutter was getting to us; our possessions had become a part of us, and they wore like wet clothes. How wistful I got over the days when I could pack everything I owned into my compact car! Of course, I didn’t sit around feeling sorry for myself too long–I got to work organizing the free sale! And on Sunday, January 10, from 12pm-10pm, we invited friends & neighbors into our home to take what they needed. Over 30 “shopped”, most brought items for sharing, and no one left unhappy. It was exhausting, to be sure, but truly a success.

For those who might like to try one of their own (& I highly encourage it!) here’s a little run-down of what we did:

1) Went through our stuff: clothes, toiletries, housewares, media, kitchen items, even some food. On & off, this took a few days. It was difficult in all the usual ways that going through and getting rid of stuff can be for packrats, so don’t expect it won’t be if you’re that type. We found it helped to amass everything in one obvious, centralized location such that we could observe our progress.

2) I made facebook & e-mail event invitations; I announced the event at church and in safe public spaces. I emphasized the following: “Feel free to take whatever you need/find interesting/would like to give away to someone else in need.” I also noted that it would be a community event open to those who didn’t need or want to give away stuff, but simply wanted the company of like-minded folks: “this will also be a time for visit & brainstorm the ways that we can continue to live into a countercultural, anti-corporate vision of peace, sharing, and simple abundance. So come for conversation, tea, dreaming…”

3) I quickly addressed guests’ burgeoning desire to bring stuff to the free sale. Two possible reasons for this: we grow up hearing, skeptically, “there’s no such thing as a free lunch”, so folks have a hard time with the “truly free”, instead preferring to bargain/barter/trade. Second reason: people got really excited about the idea & opportunity to clean out closets and help others! If you host a free sale, anticipate that friends will want to bring items for giving away–and how. By the end of our sale, we had replenished stock at least fourfold.

It may also be wise to advertise, when possible, your availability to pick items up. Folks may not take you up on the offer, but it’ll be encouraging & hospitable to those who need it.

4) We allowed folks to come just a couple hours early that day to drop items off.

5) We arranged items by room, clearly marking what was available for taking and what wasn’t. For instance,

• a huge table in the kitchen had all the kitchen stuff
• the bedroom hosted all the clothes (on the bed, in neat piles), shoes, and purses/bags
• an even bigger table in the office held the housewares and etcetera
• the living room was the common area, where lounging, talking, and cupcake-consumption happened

6) We opened our home from 2-10pm (officially). We gave everyone who came in a brief “tour”, explaining how the rooms were arranged

7) We stood by, making new batches of cupcakes, cups of tea, grinding coffee beans, and answering questions as folks browsed, dreamed, and enjoyed the simple abundance of togetherness.

8. We connected items with folks looking for particular things, sometimes giving beyond what we had planned: in one case, a student & friend from Nigeria had recently moved and needed kitchen wares. After rounding up items from the common table, I searched our pantries for extras to make his transition a little easier. A pot I hadn’t planned to part with, but that I didn’t need too terribly (just liked a lot), went his way when I learned of the need. Don’t be afraid to open yourselves to this kind of exchange! It might feel uncomfortable at first (we like things, we really like them!) but eventually the pain of the trivial loss is replaced by the soothing understanding that you have provided for another in need.

9) We closed up shop a little late, crashed, and went easy on ourselves the next day. It was great fun, totally worth it, but as I mentioned, exhausting. Plan for it. But, of course, don’t let it discourage you… instead…

…Build beloved community! De-clutter your life! Loosen the stranglehold of consumerism! Host a free sale today!

Much peace,

Adrienne

Greetings from Pleasant Valley, New York! I’m here visiting my partner’s family in a little town about 15 minutes from Poughkeepsie. I regret the fact that I haven’t updated in well over a month. (Specific apologies to specific questioners–Lizzy, Sarah & Aden, Andrea, and best of all, Erin, who apparently read my entire blog one bored day.) First the flu got me, then finals, and so on and so forth and well, you know how the story goes. I’d love to say that I’m going to be back at it regularly henceforth but the truth is, I’m just not so sure. The first completed draft of my MA thesis (long time comin’) is due March 1. Since breakfast ended today I’ve been brainstorming and outlining, drawing hieroglyphs in a little notebook and ruing the number of weeks I have to finish a 100-page paper. Thankfully, I finally have some delicious inspiration…but more on that another time.

I’m happy to report that I’ve been eating well–folks have been remarkably understanding and accommodating this season. Thanksgiving was easy in Richmond and Georgia. At church, I pressed the Ministry Team to consider providing a vegan entree for all our vegetarians and vegans, as the church is in the habit of providing a turkey. They were delightfully responsive and enthusiastic; come Thanksgiving potluck, we veg*s had three Tofurkeys and marinated tofu and walnuts as main courses. (Relatedly, I’m happy to report that Richmond Church of the Brethren will soon have a write-up on the popular All-Creatures.org site, which is associated with the Christian Vegetarian [where Vegetarian means Vegan] Association, CVA. Awesome! I’ll post a link with the write-up once it goes live.)

In Georgia, Nate & I had Thanksgiving lunch with my grandmother, called Nanny. She’s not quite 80, but I’ve worried for years that she didn’t quite “get” the “whole vegetarian thing.” The morning before our lunch, Nate & I worried aloud to my parents–would she assume Nate isn’t vegetarian, and serve a Thanksgiving ham? Would she make her beans with hamhocks? Might we discover three casseroles, contents indiscernable on account of a thick topping of bright orange cheese-stuff? And yet, upon our arrival, we found a vegan feast fit for Southern royalty. Funny how folks’ll surprise you sometimes, eh? Note: prayer/sending good energy works.

Christmas in New York and Nate’s mom is so thoughtful. She called a week in advance to ask questions about what to buy and had soymilk, organic cereal, good tea, organic chocolate, fruit, and Imagine organic soups and broth waiting on us. For Christmas eve dinner she prepared two Tofurkey roasts with roasted carrots and potatoes, steamed vegetables, and even made the traditional pumpkin pie with soymilk. Best of all, apart from a minor comment from dad about non-existent preservatives in the Tofurkey, no one questioned–or should I say, challenged–our choice to be veg. This is doubly fortunate, as one of the most common experiences for vegetarians at holiday dinners seems to be The Challenge: someone from the family, no doubt insecure about his/her own choices, puffs up and starts demanding answers about why we do the way we do…and no amount of polite re-directing will help.  Of course, this makes us feel positively awful and unloved…you know, all those feelings totally inappropriate for family gatherings. Happy to say there hasn’t been a moment of discomfort with this delightfully hospitable family.

With that, I’ll get back to outlining my thesis. Peace, loves!

Yesterday, my friend and Pastor–a foodie himself who, while not a vegetarian, consciously limits his intake of animal products–mentioned a new book that I might want to check out: Jonathan Safran Foer’s Eating Animals. The reviews so far sound promising. I was particularly taken by this excerpt from a review in the Huffington Post today, where the author asks us to consider how our eating choices reflect our values:

“But what Foer most bravely details is how eating animal pollutes not only our backyards, but also our beliefs. He reminds us that our food is symbolic of what we believe in, and that eating is how we demonstrate to ourselves and to others our beliefs: Catholics take communion — in which food and drink represent body and blood. Jews use salty water on Passover to remind them of the slaves’ bitter tears. And on Thanksgiving, Americans use succotash and slaughter to tell our own creation myth — how the Pilgrims learned from Native Americans to harvest this land and make it their own. And as we use food to impart our beliefs to our children, the point from which Foer lifts off, what stories do we want to tell our children through their food?”

This section stood out because I just returned from Interfaith Youth Core’s Annual Conference, Leadership for a Religiously Diverse World, where I met and learned from lots of folks from different religious traditions–Buddhism, Jainism, Judaism, and Sikhism, among others. My favorite part of the conference was the “speed-faithing” sessions when, for about an hour, a young leader of faith offered a kind of 101 from her or his particular tradition.

I was particularly taken by the Jain and Sikh students who described how their eating choices fit within their entire way of looking at the world. The Jain student taught that his commitment to the fundamental Jain principle of ahimsa (non-violence) persuades him to see veganism as the most coherent choice within that ethical framework. (Jains at large reject all flesh and eggs, but take dairy products; however, in today’s increasingly factory-farm (read: suffering) laden marketplace, many are totally vegan).

Similarly, the Sikh presenter said she is vegetarian because her faith teaches her that taking life is totally wrong. (She consumes dairy but is careful as to the source.) “Life” is not confined to human life, as Harvard Humanist Chaplain Greg Epstein persuasively illustrated during his talk on engaging Humanists & Atheists in interfaith work. Because we humans depend on the earth for sustenance, we must make conscious decisions to promote its health, too. (You’ve probably already read how much fecal matter from farm animals is destroying our water, so I’ll spare you any statistics here.) Humanists may not believe in a supernatural higher power who exists and acts from beyond the laws of physics, but they do believe in community and the fact that the right “community-based actions and decisions can lead to a more fulfilling and purposeful existence“.

The way we eat says something about what we believe…and most of us (at least, among my readership here at cracktheplates.com) have the blessing of at least three times a day, guaranteed, to live out those beliefs. That’s a better way of getting at the meaning of that tired and kind of obscurantist “You are what you eat” adage, isn’t it? I eat vegan (and frequently local) because, while I am definitely not in the business of deluding myself into thinking that I can eat in such a way that no living being will suffer or die because of my choices, I do recognize that I can take steps to minimize my impact. (Reflecting on the Jain concept of intentionality helped me with this one.) It may not be a perfect choice, but I firmly contend that it is a better one than eating animals and their “products”. (And, aside from that, it’s not like I’m losing out–have you read this blog lately?) This is one reason why I don’t insist everyone go vegan immediately; more constructively, I try to be encouraging and serve as a resource when folks tell me they’re trying to be more conscientious about what they eat.

For me, it comes down to the admission that eating involves making a moral choice that ought to reflect who I am and what I believe. In selecting food at a market, cooking at home, serving others, and picking up my own fork, I see moral choices for well-being or for ill. (Thanks, beloved Peter Singer!) I’m a privileged first-worlder with the choice to buy food that is demonstrably better for myself, neighbors, and planet–and so I do. This choice to minimize the negative impact on my own body, my neighbors’ bodies, and my planet’s body is one that is in line with my steadfast commitment, framed within a relational theology, to do what I can to promote the well-being of neighbors near and far, sentient and non.

Working from a Christian persuasion, I recognize that Jesus’ concerns were for the least of these. He was a radical who touched to heal the most outcast; who teaches us to feed the hungry, to quench the thirst of the parched, to welcome the stranger, to clothe the naked, to take care of the sick, and to visit the imprisoned. (Matthew 25:31-46) One of the ways I choose to embody these teachings follows from acknowledging that the way I eat is a moral choice that affects others and ought to logically cohere with how I view the world and my place in it. So acknowledged, I choose veganism.

Today’s kitchen adventures began shortly after 9am (and an unsuccessful trip to the vet, sadly) at the ESR center dining room. Friend Bekah and I teamed up to make a butternut squash-fall harvesty-type soup for about 60 for Peace Forum. Today’s topic was entrancing–a woman from Christian Peacemaker Teams, who has been living in Palestine for some time now, shared stories of non-violent resistance in the tiny herding village of at-Tuwani.

The message was alternately hopeful and heart-breaking; the best part was how she described her Palestinian friends and fellow activists so clearly and penetratingly that I felt as though I got to know them through her. Appropriately, it persuaded me to take a look at my budget this month and see if there’s not a little cash there for her work, for these sisters and brothers who only seem so far away, but who, in reality, simply aren’t. You can read more at Joy’s blog, I Saw it in Palestine, here.

But this blog is about the food, so back to it! The recipe was a totally winged one. Here’s what we did, kinda, and you can, too, sorta:

• chop about: 6 lbs of organic carrots, 4lbs of onions, 10 organic sweet potatoes, a 5-lb bag of regular potatoes; a head of organic garlic; a bunch of organic parsley; a handful of garden-picked sage
• for a roasting pan, prep 10 huuuuuuge butternut squash
• use a box of no-chix vegan xGFx bouillon cubes
• spread everything but the butternut squash across two huge pots (I’m talking 50 servings in one pot, 30 in the other); season with organic marjoram, thyme, pepper, olive oil, and basically a shaker of salt; boil
• scrape the filling from the butternut squashes; process it quickly with some of the soup in a bowl with a hand mixer (no immersion blender, stand blender, or food processor required!) to get it sorta mushy, then return to pot and incorporate well
• season, serve, please 72 people (the final count) and put away the abundance of leftovers!

We served the soup with a gigantic salad (most of the ingredients donated by our local Kroger), some green beans and garlic, a fruit salad, and a soy-bean side of some kind. Miraculously, the entire freaking meal was both vegan and xGFx!

in the pot

Beautiful soup, so rich, and….orange?

For future reference, it would’ve been good to mix it up with a few tbps of good-quality curry powder, or with some maple syrup.