How Can I Be Hearty and Hale?

Answer: EAT MORE KALE!

Up until a few months ago, I was a kale virgin. It wasn't something we ate growing up, and I honestly couldn't tell the difference between collard greens (are they the same as mustard greens?) and swiss chard and kale and several other leafy greens in a certain section of the produce department. I think I read something about kale's many virtues and went in search of a recipe that sounded doable. Coincidentally, around the same time, I saw someone on the Food Network make a raw kale salad. It looked intriguing, but I wasn't sold on the mango she was including. Honestly, it would never have occurred to me to serve kale raw because it looks so-well-tough and unapproachable. The food show host actually massaged the kale, and I am gratefully borrowing her technique here. WARNING: This is a HANDS ON recipe and NOT for those of you who don't like playing with your food!
The original recipe came from Weight Watchers, but I've shifted things around a bit. I think they used shallots, and I use garlic and I've increased the amount of lemon juice by a lot because I LOVE the taste of lemon!
Ingredients:
1 large bunch or 2 small bunches of KALE
( there are several varieties of kale in the markets these days; I've tried several in this
recipe and they all worked just fine.)
6 large cloves of GARLIC (feel free to use less if you aren't a strong garlic lover)
1 cup freshly squeezed LEMON JUICE (it took me about 7 smallish lemons to
get that today).
 Zest of one large LEMON (or two smaller lemons)
3 1/2 Tablespoons HONEY
3/4 Cup of EXTRA VIRGIN OLIVE OIL
1 1/2 - 2 cups shaved PARMESAN CHEESE
1 teaspoon each SALT & PEPPER

STEPS:
#1 Cut the kale leaves away from the tough stems. There are a couple ways to do this. You can take a sharp knife and shave the leaves from the stalk or you can fold the leaf in half and cut the leaf away from the stem. Either way, you want to separate the woody stalk from the tender leaves.
#2 Throw all the leaves into a large colander and rinse thoroughly. Let them air dry while you make the dressing. THE LEAVES SHOULD BE COMPLETELY DRY WHEN YOU MIX THEM WITH THE DRESSING.

#3 Now it's time to squeeze those lemons and add the lemon juice to the other dressing ingredients:
LEMON ZEST
HONEY
Crushed GARLIC (it should be as close to pureed as you can get it)
SALT/PEPPER
Now, slowly stream in the
OLIVE OIL as you whisk the dressing together.
#4 Next, make sure the kale is completely dry and cut it into thin slices (chiffonades). Each piece of kale should be a yummy bite-size morsel of green goodness.
#5 Make sure your hands are clean--this is the fun part! Pour the dressing over the kale and start massaging the dressing into the leaves. You only need to to do this for about 2 minutes to soften the tough fibers.
#6 Next, add the parmesan cheese and you are ready to serve!
This salad is quite hearty and leftovers can be refrigerated and enjoyed the following day without fear of sogginess!

Bon Appetite!
Rachel

Why are we here?

I know. I know. This is a pretty heavy topic for the middle of summer. Heck, its a pretty heavy topic for any time. Most of us would rather focus on the details than the big picture. What do I want for breakfast? How much will my electric bill set me back this month? Should I cut my hair or leave it long?  How can I get more sleep? Exercise? Love? Money? Fill in the blank!
I have just returned home from an amazing two weeks in Cape Cod. The first week, as I've already alluded to in last week's post, was spent with my great friends Beth and Greg.  This week was spent farther down the cape, at the very tip, Provincetown. And it felt like I was going farther down, farther into myself. I was taking a memoir class at the Fine Arts Work Center and it was, for the most part, a week of work and solitude. There were eight of us in the class, and we comprised a wide variety of ages and backgrounds. Seven of us were female. Some were extroverts, some introverts, Some with lots of writing experience under our belts, some with not much at all. One of us was a retired physician. Two women worked in the field of corporate diversity training. There was even a lovely, lively mother-daughter pair. Our gracious and wise teacher, Marcie Hershman,  who teaches at Tufts and has published a memoir of her own about the loss of her beloved brother (Speak to Me), lead us into places which surprised and excited me. But more about that in a minute.
This was my second course at the Work Center (I had been there two years ago), and while I loved the other course, this one was even better. Why? Perhaps its me, perhaps I knew what to expect and so was more ready to be open to the experience. Also, this class was filled with more people with whom I felt an immediate sense of kinship. I am deeply hopeful that we will continue to know each other for many years to come! Finally, Marcie is a wonderfully unique soul, and her spirit infused us with a calm creative energy. She is very, very funny. Her humor, sometimes, softly self-deprecating, never mean-spirited, allowed us to work really really hard but to feel joy rather than burden. Her exercises often took me by surprise (and there were a few that I wanted to resist or twist into some other shape), but (Marcie would want me to put an AND there instead of BUT) there was clearly a method to her madness.
There are three main things that I came away with this week. Don't worry, I will circle back to this week's weighty question...just follow me for a minute.
#1 Great teachers make teaching look a bit like magic. Marcie gave us disparate assignments (many of which seemed to have little or nothing to do with the process of writing memoir). She began the week by asking us all to bring in a small mirror...and the mirror we chose (rather than what we saw in it) became a kind of framework for the way we SEE. The week was filled with mirrors looking into mirrors looking into mirrors. However, unlike the carnival House of Mirrors, I left feeling that things were clearer rather than distorted. I hope that my students have moments at least where they feel that I have guided them to an important place in a magical way. Thank you, Marcie, for being one of the great teachers whom I have had the honor to know.
#2 Life is a story. All of us have the most fascinating, painful, odd, true stories within us. One of the great gifts of aging is that our story collection becomes like  the New York Public Library rather than the bookmobile in Paris, Texas. I was charmed, amused, mesmerized and blown away by the stories of my colleagues. I was surprised and grateful for the stories inside me. Ironically, some of the most painful moments in my life became transformed into words that felt like perfect be-jewelled (yes, classmates that is an inside joke--reference to my little blue mirror) gifts I was able to offer the world. Which leads me finally to the question which I promised to address in this post: WHY ARE WE HERE?
#3 Scientists might answer this question one way, while philosophers would take a different stance. Rabbis, priests, ministers, and other religious leaders would mine their traditions for answers. I would not, could not, presume to answer that question for any of you...but I hope that you will pause for just a moment when you finish reading this and try to come up with the beginnings of a response.
I know we are put here for many reasons and part of the work during our journey is to find out what our purpose is and then to strive to fulfill it. I was born to give birth to Josh, Ben and Emily and to mother them and love them to the best of my ability. I think I was also put here to teach, to share my love of books and words and life with my students. I can honestly say (in this semi-public forum) that after this week, after the work and the writing and the writing and the work, I was put here to write. I don't yet know what form that will take....but I am working on that. At least, for the moment, it is enough to know that I was meant to be a writer; it is part of my destiny.
I'll leave you with some of the photographic images from my week in PTown.
 I would LOVE to hear your comments about your own answers to the question: Why are we here?

What is a Friend?

Even the seals on Monomoy Island find comfort in companionship. It seems safe to surmise that we were not meant to travel this journey unaccompanied.  I am writing from one of my favorite places in the world, Cape Cod, and I am visiting my good friends Beth and Greg who have a wonderful home here on the beautiful Bass River. As I sit in the room that (I pretend for one week a year) is mine and look out at the water, I am incredibly grateful for this friendship and all the other friendships that make up the patchwork of my life so far. 

When I was younger, I had one best friend, and she was the repository of all my secrets. I have never been someone who has a plethora of friends. I collected pens and books and loads of other things, but I had (and still have) a very small circle of friends. This probably stemmed originally from my shyness, but I think now it has to do with the weight of friendship; I have never wanted more friends than I can carry. I'm not talking about literal weight, I'm talking about emotional weight. You should never be too busy to help a friend, to listen to the details of her bad day (even if it is simply a bad haircut). My friends have been there for me through the bumps and the bruises, the chaos and the confusion, and they have been there for the celebrations, the laughter and the joy. Most importantly perhaps, they have been there for all the humdrum everyday moments in between. The moments when you are lying in the sun on your metaphoric island happy to glance over and see that Sadie Seal and Susie Seal are right beside you!

Beth admiring her new VS  birthday panties!

We have laughed a lot this week (this picture alone caused more than a few giggles), and I am reminded once again that my friends add life to my life-- as I hope I do to theirs. Albert Schweitzer is quoted as saying that  "In everyone's life, at some time, our inner flame goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter w/another human being." Our friends are the torch-bearers, they enliven us when we are feeling burned out, and when we forget...they remind us of the person we want to be.

I am surrounded by beauty here; everywhere I look, I see something I love. Beth and Greg and their family and extended family have been a part of my life for over a decade and there is a history now that is incredibly powerful. As I watch Evan waterski, I am reminded of going up to the hospital to visit him on the day he was born.

 I share a similar history with my other close friends and I never take it for granted. I am immensely proud of the fact that those relationships span so many years. The poet William Blake once wrote:

"The bird a nest, the spider a web, man friendship."

I will try not to jump into English teacher mode here, BUT clearly there are many ways to interpret this comparison. The nest and the web are safe spaces for the bird and the spider, just as friendship is a safe space for us. But I am intrigued by another piece of the metaphor: The bird labors to build the nest and then is able to rest and enjoy its comfort. The spider works diligently to spin the web and then is rewarded by a place that provides her with sustenance. We must carefully craft our friendships...each shared experience becomes another brick in our unique building. Years and years down the road, we put our feet up and pour two glasses of Sauvignon Blanc and watch the river or our kids or whatever the view provides, and we feel so incredibly lucky to have built this incredible safe warm spectacular friendship. 

On a more prosaic note: TO ALL OF YOU WHO HAVE TRIED UNSUCCESSFULLY TO LEAVE COMMENTS--PLEASE TRY AGAIN. I THINK I WORKED OUT THE KINKS!!!