... Because everything I learned about living a good life, I learned in my kitchen.

I won't always show you recipes, because I don't measure. You can't really measure life, so how can I teach you that?

On our journey I will share stories of self-reflection as we cook and reminisce. The kitchen remains to be my "hall of epiphanies" . Stay with me as we explore the depths of our cooking pots, and of our soul...



Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Iron Sharpens Iron. Do you agree?

There is an English proverb that tells us that behind every great man is is a great woman.  I feel blessed in that I grew up seeing it both ways.  My Dad also made my Mom a greater woman.  He was supportive and encouraging, but he also challenged her to do things she didn't think she could. 

As time passed in their lives and in their relationship, they could look back and see how they built each other up, and in doing so, built a strong family with confident kids.


My parents brought their individual talents and God-given gifts, and made us into a unit- a well-oiled machine that ran on fundamental principals.

Both lived by Love, Compassion, Discipline and Loyalty.  These were the ideals that they had in common. 

My Mom was the Spiritual rock of the family who taught us to find God inside of ourselves.  This was essential because we are a blended family.  My mom and I are Puerto Rican.  My [step} Dad was born in Ireland, Irish from grandma's side and German-Russian from grandpa's side.  He was also Jewish and my mother is Christian.

Rather than either of them converting, they taught us both and let us decide if and what we wanted to practice as we grew up.  I gravitated toward Christianity and worship with Abuela, Mamita.  My brother, gravitated toward my Dad's Jewish roots, and now practices Judaism as an adult.

You can imagine that growing up in my home as a kid in the Bronx, NY was interesting and fun.  There was never a dull moment.  On one side of the apartment mom talking to us in Spanglish, "Mira!  Cierra la window!"  and then you had my Dad singing Yiddish songs.  We tried our best to observe and learn about our family's traditions.

My Mom is also very detail-oriented and determined. I remember being in the fourth grade and doing my homework on the  dining room table so that I could be close to her while she cooked in the kitchen.  Now, you have to know that I absolutely despise Math and I always have.  I used to tell my mom all the time how after college, I would never need this type of math again.  A bit of irony that I end up in a career that encapsulates finance and math.  A whole lot of math.  As always, my Mom was right.

This particular evening, I was doing division examples for math homework.  My mom would walk by every so often.  I would say about 4 different times she asked me to write neater and to align the columns.  She also asked me to stop erasing on the paper so much, causing it to smudge.  I didn't listen.  On the fifth time that she walked by to check on me, she took my paper, crumbled it in her hand and walked away with it.  "Start over." she said, and I knew by the look on her eye that it was no time to argue.  I was hurt, upset and confused because I'd worked so hard on it, and it wasn't easy for me. When I asked my mother why she'd done that she said, "At the top of that paper, you had written your name.  I want you to learn to take pride in that name.  In life, when you put your name on something always make sure that it's your best work and worthy of carrying your name."

Another mom-moment was when I was in a panic about making it into a specialized high school.  The entrance exam was known to be very difficult, even for straight-A students like me. My Dad had cautioned me, "You've grown up being a big fish in a little pond, if you go to that school you will become a big fish in an ocean.  Can you do it without losing yourself and who you are?  You have to make that choice."
What my mom said next, impacted me for life.  We were in Alexander's Department store on Fordham Road, in the Bronx.  She could tell how nervous and anxious I was about the upcoming exam.  As we were descending on an escalator, my mom looked softly at me and asked, "How many kids go to that school right now?" 
 "About 2,500."  I answered in despair.
My mom sharpened her gaze at me and asked, "Well, if 2,500 kids passed the exam and made it in, what makes them different than you?"


From my Dad, we learned to be practical, pragmatic, plan ahead, to laugh (sometimes at ourselves) and to be very organized.  None of these were in my nature, and I had to dedicate myself to learning these skills.

By nature I am chaotic and impulsive.  Anyone who knows me for the past ten years or so would disagree with that statement, but what they fail to see is that I had to work so hard and commit myself to learning discipline and to be practical.  Motherhood has a way of speeding up those lessons.

As a couple, my Mom and Dad had many encouraging conversations and moments of  inspiration.  Many of those moments my brother and I were never privy to.  What we did see was their individual growth over time.  As adults, we can appreciate all of it as we look back on our family and on who they were as people.

A man said this to me recently, "Iron sharpens iron."  He was making the point that a woman and a man have the potential to build each other and help take each other to previously unreached horizons.  I do agree with that.  I grew up seeing it and watching that unfold.

As a woman, I believe that both people have to get to a place where you can be open and vulnerable to each other, enough to let your partner support and help build you up.  If you are unable to be vulnerable, if something holds you back, then you are unable to become a team.

team
tēm/
noun
noun: team; plural noun: teams


  • two or more people working together



verb
come together as a team to achieve a common goal

synonyms:join (forces), collaborate, get together, work together;


As a single woman, I hear a lot of my married friends vent and I can compare it to my own personal experiences.  What I have learned is this, in order for iron to sharpen iron, you cannot be afraid of how sharp the sword..  

What you have to gain is an army of two, a protector, loyalty and Love.  You just have to be willing to be open and to walk in Truth. 

Sure, death feels imminent, but so does eternal life because as we grow older we realize that there is only eternal life, in the freedom of loving and being loved. 

... And so shall one man and one woman sharpen each other.


In order to achieve our potential, we cannot do it alone, and must be willing to endure and withstand intensity.

Monday, March 3, 2014

Pumpkin's First Birthday Without Him

It didn't matter what my friends call me.  To my [step] Dad, I was always Pumpkin.  When I was a little girl, it was Princess Pumpkin.  He went as far as to buy me a beautiful and delicately ornate gold tiara, with diamond rhinestones.  It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen or touched, my crown.  I felt so beautiful every time I played alone in my room and put it on.  And every time I looked at it, I felt so incredibly loved by my parents.

We lost my Dad on January 7th of this year.  I haven't had the words to say it or write about it.  Music hasn't sounded the same, and I hadn't smiled from the inside, for weeks.

My only comfort is that he passed peacefully in my mother's arms.  She whispered loving words to him and comforted him, telling him how loved he is and will always be.  Then she asked him not to be in pain any longer.  He always said how he never wanted to leave her alone.
He took his last breath only after she promised to find him again when it was time.


Part of the reason why I'm at peace being alone is because when you grow up watching two people that are truly in love and devoted to each other, most other things pale in comparison.  My mother is a strong woman, independent and very lady-like.  My Dad was loving, with a brilliant mind, devoted.  Their lives, together and individually, exemplify honor. My Dad really was a good man.

After he passed, I was incapable of writing a eulogy, until the actual morning of his funeral.  I was up and ready early.  As my mom, brother and daughter were dressing, I sat in his chair with his pen and a pad of paper he used for random notes.  I felt him, and it came to me.

I had recently read a proverb that said that the richest man is he who figures out that the highest prize is to love and to be loved in return.  My dad was a very wealthy man. 

This man had a brilliant mind, but what set him apart was that he figured what was important in life, long before most people do.  My Dad made sure that he invested himself in his family.  He was consistent in showing his love every day.

In the end, in that moment when someone is writing my eulogy, that's really all I want.  That my life will be a testament that every single day, I showed love, without expecting anything in return.  If I am loved back, then like my Dad, I would have gone with all the riches to be had.  In the end, that is all that we can take with us.  The love we gave, and the love we received.

He was a 3rd generation military man.  One of the hardest parts for us was hearing the cry of the soldier's trumpets as they played Taps, or when one of the soldiers knelt down in front of my mom and handed her the folded flag, that later soaked in our silent, falling tears.  Watching my brother kneel at his grave saying his final good-bye ripped out everyone's heart who was there.


His service, burial and the way that we chose to remember him was so lovely and a perfect tribute to him. The Jewish and Christian sides of our family came together with love and grace to honor our Dad.
Kaddish

One of the most meaningful parts of this day for me, was my father, Carlos who came to the funeral to honor my step-dad.  They always got along to so well, and respected each other.  They both chose to honor my mother and I, by setting an example of how a man should be.  Instead of ill-will, they chose to partner and co-parent for my benefit.  The result?  I was raised with two fathers that adored, cherished and honored me.  When a father does that for his daughter, she learns to see herself this way, and accepts nothing less from the man in her life.  How can I when I grew up with the example that these two men set for me?  I thank God for my parents daily.  All three of them.

I embrace every year that goes by, and thank God for the blessing.  However, it hit me like a ton of bricks, that I wouldn't hear my Mom passing the phone to him and him saying his usual, "Happy Birthday, Pumpkin!".

Recently, I was caught up in running errands and went to call him to ask him a question.  It had completely escaped me that my Dad was gone.  I had reached for my cell phone and had even begun dialing.  In an instant, a paralyzing and cold reality came over me.  I stood in a supermarket aisle, shivering with tears streaming down my face.  That was my defining moment that my dad Pat was gone.  The second was on my birthday, knowing that never again will I hear his voice sweetly wishing me a happy birthday.

Heart-broken all day I was struggling for a way to turn it around. I remembered what a great sense of humor my Dad had and how he always made us laugh, and remember what was important.

I came home and decided to connect to him the best way I know how.  He was an amazing cook and when I lived at home, we spent a lot of the time in the kitchen cooking and talking over techniques.

My friend had just let me hear a song yesterday that made me smile, and took me to a happy place.  I put that on while I was cooking.  And it made me smile again.  It's just that kind of happy song, silly like his humor.  I'm sure my dad would have liked it.  Especially knowing that he was Irish and my Mom is Latina. 
He was always saying how he loved his Puerto Rican girl.  My dad was always madly in love with my mom. 

I played the song and toasted to him while making a nice dinner for my baby girl and I, picturing my Dad relaxing peacefully on a beach, waiting for my Mom.



Tuscan Pasta with Cajun Crab.. why not?

Easy meal.  Buy the fresh pasta from the refrigerated aisle in the market.  I love fresh pasta so much better.  Cooks in about 3 minutes after being added to boiling water.

Add olive oil, a pat of butter, sliced cherry tomatoes and diced onions.  Simmer.  Add in pasta after draining.  I used angel hair.



 In a separate pot I had water boiling with a large tea bag that I filled with assorted peppercorns and Cajun spices.  I added garlic, fresh herbs, salt and fresh lemon juice to the water, then added snow crab leg clusters.

Melt butter, add salt and freshly crushed garlic.



It went so well together.  My Dad would have loved this.  I chose crab legs because my daughter and I absolutely love them, and because my Dad's favorite restaurant when I was a kid was the Crab Shanty on City Island.  It was a family tradition.  The family went there after the funeral to honor and remember him.  Everything about it, felt right. 


It turned out to be a lovely evening with her.  At one point we were both quiet and she said, "...I miss him too."

In that moment, I could swear that I felt my Dad.  That he was there.  And that if I listened closely, I would hear, a whispered  "... Happy Birthday, Pumpkin."