Are You a Cake Person or a Pie Person?

The answer for me is: It all depends! If the choice is Key Lime Pie or Chocolate Cake, I'm a cake girl. However, if the choice is Carrot Cake or Strawberry-Rhubarb Pie, I will take the pie--thank you very much!
I am pretty sure that I was in my forties before I ever tasted this delicacy. I am also pretty sure that the first one I ever ate was baked by my dear friend Beth. I'm sure that, never having tasted rhubarb, I was initially a little reluctant. However, one bite and I became an instant convert.
Last summer, Beth and I embarked on a wild rhubarb hunt. The hunt was wild, not the rhubarb.
Greg, Beth's lovely husband, had requested a S-R-P for dessert and the local grocery was out of rhubarb. The farmer's market had none either, but they tried to sell us a rhubarb plant. We spent several minutes debating the pros and cons of buying the plant in order to have the pie for dinner. In the end, we left the plant there and went in search of another store that might have a few stalks left.
The point of my little tale is that S-R-P is worth some extra effort; it is that good!

So...back to the present and true confession time: Although, I love eating Beth's S-R-P, I had never actually attempted to make my own. That all changed a few days ago when, while shopping in my local Houston market, I happened to spy the loveliest  stalks of rhubarb I had ever seen. I am not exaggerating one bit when I say that they were GORGEOUS!!

 I bought three large stalks and 2 16 oz. containers of strawberries and then phoned Beth for the recipe. She didn't have it on hand and I got impatient, so I started googling and found one that sounded similar to the one she uses. Luckily, I had a beautiful piecrust dough in my freezer (from a local bakery) and that saved me the extra step of making the crust. If you are not so lucky, you can easily make an all-butter pie crust for your S-R-P. There are oodles of easy recipes on the web.

So--back to the rhubarb. One question that one must address when cooking with rhubarb is whether or not to peel them. Beth said that there was no need to peel the stalks. However, as I started cutting into the first one, pink  strips started coming off and they felt awfully stringy. I opted to pull them off (no peeler necessary) and they formed a beautiful pile of ribbons that was photo-worthy!

The next question is whether or not to cook the rhubarb mixture before you bake the pie. Beth said: "No Need" My internet search found recipes both ways, but I opted to save a step and cook it all together. So, after cutting the rhubarb into little celery-like pieces, I added them to the sliced strawberries and added the juice of one half a lemon, 1/2 cup of flour and 1 cup of sugar.  Then I left it all to soak for about twenty-thirty minutes.

While the fruit mixture rested, I worked hard at rolling out the pie crust. As you shall see, I was not terribly worried about the LOOK of this pie; I was mostly focused on TASTE! One step I failed to take that I would add for all future S-R-P's is that I would pour off the extra juice after soaking the fruit. My pie was a tad runny, and I think this extra step would help alleviate that problem.

As you can see, my large lattice strips are very rustic looking. I think rustic sounds much nicer than sloppy!
Anyway, I like a lot of crust with my pie so thick strips of dough suit me just fine!
I am happy to report that the final result was amazing and it would be embarrassing to admit how quickly Ben and I polished off the whole thing--so I won't tell you. Suffice it to say, it was yumm-o!

Last night, I found out that S-R-P happens to be a favorite of my dad's. Who knew? So, the next one I make has his name on it!!!

By the way...this POST is #49 of the 52 I initially promised to write. Can you believe that a whole year has almost passed since I started this project? Anyway, I have not yet decided whether or not I will continue this blog in some form or other, but I am eager to hear your suggestions. Also, if you have any question requests for the last three posts, please send me your comments!

Do You Know Who You Are?

My 17 female seniors have just finished reading James McBride's powerful memoir, The Color of Water, and I spent part of this weekend reading their moving in-class essays about McBride's search for his identity and about their own struggles to figure out who they are. School will be over soon. Some of these seniors have attended our small private school since kindergarten. We talk fondly about our "cloistered walls," but walls can be both protective and confining. The world outside those walls is large and far more diverse. Some of the girls are more than ready to break out of this lovely shell, but many others seem  filled with trepidation. A few of the girls wrote about trying to define themselves in a world that often makes them choose between being "cool" or "popular" and their Christian faith. One of the girls, who has one Asian and one Caucasian parent, wrote about identifying with McBride's struggle to define himself racially (he had a black father and a white mother). A few of the girls wrote about being different with different groups of friends and trying to ascertain which identity was more genuine or authentic. One interesting essay was about a young woman's understanding that she could view her affluent and privileged upbringing as either a benefit or a deficit. Ultimately, she chose to see it as a gift.

These girls are all bright and talented and will go on to college and then into the world to do great things.
As I read their essays, I couldn't help envying them a bit. So much of their lives lies in front of them like a blank canvas. At 51, I have much less of my life left to unfold. Yet, I don't feel as if my identity is completely static. I believe that we are always evolving and growing if we live our lives with intention and clarity. I know that I am a different woman than I was at 20 or 30. I hope that when I turn 60, I will feel that I am almost exactly the woman I had hoped to become. Not that I plan to stop growing, but I hope, at that point, to be mostly satisfied with my identity.

My forties were a time of great re-invention. I went from married to single, from stay-at-home-mom to full-time English teacher and from someone who was frightened and sad to someone who was happier and braver.

My challenge for you, dear bleaders, is to upgrade yourself  at least as often as you upgrade your cellphone. If your software needs a 2.0 version, perhaps you do as well. Stretch your comfort zone.
Learn something new. Be a kinder, gentler, stronger, smarter, happier, healthier, wilder, freer version of YOU. Think of identity like a painting-in-progress: add some detail, erase an imperfection, experiment with a new color. After all, you're the only person on this entire planet who can create YOUR IDENTITY. Make it a great one!

What Was The Last Movie That Moved You?

Yesterday afternoon, my dad and I went to see a matinee of "Salmon Fishing in the Yemen." My mother and sister had gone to the opening and raved about it so much that my dad decided that he had to see it.

I am so glad that he insisted. It was charming and unusual. While there were a few over-the-top touches that I found cheesy and unnecessary, as a whole the film was a delight. There were moments during the movie when my cheeks hurt because I was grinning so much. There were other moments that I wished I had a pad and pencil with me so I could write down the wonderful lines. At some point in the film, I remember thinking, "If I could write a movie, this is the  kind of movie I'd want to write."

An all-star cast put this together, but it started with a debut novel written by a British businessman and dedicated fisherman, Paul Torday. Then, the screenwriter for "Slumdog Millionaire," Simon Beaufoy worked his magic on it and finally, it was directed by the talented, Lasse Hallstrom who also directed, "What's Eating Gilbert Grape."
The film was brilliantly acted as well. Emily Blunt and Ewan McGregor played the lead characters and it was lovely to watch as they calmly and quietly fell in love with each other. McGregor's character is a quirky scientist who becomes part of an Arab Sheik's far-fetched dream to bring salmon fishing to his native land. The fact that his land is a desert only makes the dream that much better. Emily Blunt is the Sheik's financial advisor and the person he's put in charge of shepherding his dream to reality.

There are twists and turns along the way, but the essence of this film is simple and sweet. Its about love and dreams and faith. At one point, the Sheik is questioning Ewan's character about his lack of religious belief. The Sheik then cleverly points out that all people who fish, (and Ewan is  a huge fisherman), are people of faith; they have to be to cast a line into the water hoping that a fish, that can't be seen, will attach itself to the hook. I could feel my dad smiling as he sat on the seat beside me. He is a man of deep faith and has spent his life explaining faith to  people who question it.

I loved this movie. I loved its whimsy and I loved its depth. Movies like "Salmon Fishing in the Yemen" make me want to write books and read books and see movies and be in love and travel and see the world and explore the universe and explore my own heart. They make me believe that dreams can come true and miracles can happen. They make me  bigger and better. They expand me. Great art makes us grow.
GO SEE THIS MOVIE.  

How Do You Define Freedom?

Friday night my parents hosted the annual Passover Seder at their home It was probably one of our largest gatherings ever. I was thrilled to have the ENTIRE Delagi clan joining us from Dallas: Beth*Greg*Matt*Sam*Hannah*Evan*Ben*Wilbur*
Dexter (that is one mom, one dad, five kids and two dogs)!!!

Emily, Beth, ME, Hannah & Dexter

Our families have shared many big and small moments as the kids were growing up, but this was the first time in years that most of us(sadly, Josh was in NYC and couldn't be there to join us) were all together in the same place. Now, many of the kids are grown (we drank a lot more wine collectively than at our past seders) and it is fun to watch them all hanging out together.
We have a serious seder. My dad, the Rabbi, does not take any shortcuts. We laugh. We sing. We eat. We drink. We drink some more. But we do this holiday justice. We work our way diligently through the whole Haggadah. Dad expertly doles out parts and everyone --from the youngest to the oldest--has a part to play. Mom does all the behind-the-scenes work. She cooks, she sets a beautiful table, she hides the afikomen and she buys wonderful gifts for all the finders of the hidden matzoh. My mother does not like anyone to be disappointed--esp. children--so she hides enough little matzoh morsels for everyone at the table UNDER 30.  That's a lot of hidden matzoh!
The Passover story is a story of freedom. We are all lucky to live in a country where, most days,  we take our freedom for granted. Not only are we granted "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness," but we are also free to practice our religion even though we are in the minority. Of course, there have been issues of freedom even in this great country. There was a sad time when blacks were slaves, women have fought valiantly for equal rights in the workforce, and the battle for same sex marriage is ongoing.

I think that it is fair to say that we might all define freedom a little differently. For me, as I struggled at a particularly difficult juncture in my life, freedom came to mean having my insides and my outsides match.
It meant being free to live the kind of life, to be the kind of person, I wanted to be. It meant creating a safe and loving home for myself and my children. Life is a series of choices and we are free to choose our own path. Sometimes, we choose wisely, sometimes we don't...but that freedom to create our own life is more of a gift than a burden.

As I have grown up (I think I am still growing up), I have learned that going down the wrong path can have its merits. When I take a risk, I feel alive even if the end result is not exactly what I would have wanted.  Each time I step beyond my comfort zone, I grow. We should all embrace that kind of freedom.

The Israelites' freedom came at a price for the Egyptians. One of my favorite parts of the seder is when we take a drop of our wine and symbolically give it away in memory of each of the plagues visited on the Egyptians. Friday night, Beth brought an adorable array of plague masks and the kids donned them during that part of the seder. They were locusts and boils and wild beasts, etc.

Some days, we feel plagued by the price of freedom as well. We have so many choices to makes each day, and some nights we go to bed with our own small share of regrets. We second guess ourselves and question the wisdom of our actions.

And then, we wake up and start again. We embrace our freedom and recognize the responsibility that comes hand in hand with it. The seder ends with a wish that all people everywhere will soon know freedom. Lets celebrate our freedom and work to free those who are still bound.

Where Do You Find Beauty?

I told a friend recently that they should surround themselves with Beauty. I think I was in a poetic mood; perhaps, I was speaking metaphorically. Nevertheless, it made me think (as my random insights often do) about my own life.

This weekend as I traveled to Austin to attend my daughter's sorority's Mother-Daughter Weekend, I was delighted to see that the Indian Paintbrushes and Bluebonnets were all abloom.  I cannot remember the last time I traveled those roads at exactly the right moment to partake of the amazing sight of the orange and blue covered fields. Cars were parked along the highway as people got out of their cars to take photos among the flowers. I felt buoyed by the Beauty. I felt that the magical landscape somehow was a harbinger for what would be a lovely weekend. Beauty begets Beauty.

The Pulitzer Prize winning poet, Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950), once wrote: "Beauty is whatever gives joy."  I could not agree more. Sometimes, we put Beauty in this small box and she is so much larger, so much more interesting, than that. She is wild and wonderful, and she is all around us.

My daughter is  beautiful. Yes, she is a lovely looking young woman, but she is beautiful to me for so many other reasons. She is bright and brave and honest and real...and those are all beautiful adjectives. She has beautiful friends, but mostly, I see Beauty in the friendship they share. They care for and about one another.
They support each other. They laugh loudly and often. I have always felt that true friendship is one of the most beautiful things in my life. By surrounding myself with friends who truly know and care about me, I am surrounding myself with Beauty.

Emily w/Annika & Kate

Saturday night, the three girls and their mothers (and one aunt) all went to dinner. Later, I learned that Emily was a bit nervous about how it would all go. Just because these girls adore each other doesn't necessarily mean their mothers will feel the same. Also, Emily knows that I can be a tad shy in new social settings and I suppose she worried whether or not I'd be outgoing enough to make new friends. She needn't have worried! It was an easy evening filled with camaraderie and laughter. The common theme seemed to be gratitude. We were all grateful for our lovely, beautiful daughters. We were grateful that they had found such wonderful new friends. We were grateful that they wanted us to spend time with them, and we were grateful that the other mothers could recognize our own daughter's true Beauty.  After the evening, Emily marveled at what a great time we had all had.
As I drove back to Houston on Sunday, again surrounded by orange and blue and yellow wildflowers, I felt the truth in Edna St. Vincent Millays' words: "Beauty is whatever gives joy."
So friends--go forth today and surround yourself with BEAUTY!