When we open our bedroom curtains in the morning, we look out onto a pasture.  We live 3 minutes from our modern village but between us and the village is a farmhouse and we feel fortunate, enjoying this rural view every day. The farmer brought his five special cows and their three calves into the pasture last week  (the breed is called ‘Lakenvelders’ : laken means ‘sheet’ and they look indeed as though a white sheet has been thrown over the middle of their red-brown backs!) and the calves are still running around enjoying their freedom like little kids playing tag.Today is May 4th and it is Memorial Day here. Flags hang at half-mast. There are concerts and commemorative services held, wreaths are laid at monuments and this evening at 8 p.m, Dutch soldiers and civilians who have given their lives in war situations and/or peacekeeping missions since World War II will be remembered in a respectful period of silence for 2 minutes. Traffic will stop, the television will go on mute, music will be stilled, cyclists will bring their bikes to a standstill and people will sit silently in their homes and in restaurants. At the end of the 2 minutes, the national anthem ‘Wilhelmus’ is broadcasted and sung, on the street or wherever one happens to be. It is important to realize that flying the flag and singing the national anthem is not a daily event here but one reserved for special, meaningful moments. It is therefore all the more significant and moving; a participatory way to give tribute to the fallen.

Tomorrow, May 5th, is Liberation Day and will mark the end to the Nazi occupation of the

Netherlands in 1945. The flags will fly again, this time from the tops of the flagpoles and this

special day will be celebrated with festivals, concerts, parades, speeches and a now-

dwindling number of elderly Canadian liberators who will, often in uniform, visit our part (the

eastern part) of the country. Homage is given to them as they share their history. Memories of the liberation but also of the occupation, the deportations and the hunger winter of 1944-5

include stories of the Dutch Resistance and the giving and receiving of shelter during those

dangerous days. These experiences are recounted at events and in the press, serving as

reminders to us all of the sacrifices for and the foundations and significance of our freedom.  De V-Foundation (a national foundation for peace, freedom and veterans’ care (in Dutch all

three words begin with ‘v’) ensures that war museums, remembrance centers and freedom

festival celebrations continue to obtain funding (including from the Roosevelt Foundation) to

keep memories and awareness alive.

There are those who, in commemoration of that time of hardship and food scarcity, will

choose to eat a tulip bulb or an onion with their celebratory drink on May 5th. i have read that in some parts of the country, cats and blackbirds disappeared from the landscape during the winter of 1944-45. You  can guess why. Wartime recipes pop up this time of year and cooking workshops are even held to promote awareness – and creativity – in cooking with a limited

variety of ingredients. There was hardly any meat, eggs or cheese. Bread was also scarce.

Sugar cost 40 guilders a pound, if you could find any.

So what to do when a birthday was nearing? Birthdays in the Netherlands mean birthday

cake. I researched some wartime recipes and learned that flour was replaced with cooked

and sieved potatoes. They were then mixed with hoarded rations of sugar and 2 precious

eggs. The eggs were separated so that the whipped egg whites would create a lighter batter. Yummy.

In America, eggs, butter, sugar and milk were also rationed during wartime and home bakers became creative. In the luxurious life we live, there is no blackbird or cat on the menu and

also no potato birthday cake. Also not in the America of 1944. However, I have discovered

that a number of today’s increasingly popular vegan recipes are based on wartime rationing. Retro-recipes. Anyway, here is a recipe for a chocolate cake that would have been possible tomake in the days of rations in America and will also fit vegan guidelines. There are a number of  versions of thus recipe on internet, some are called ‘wacky cake;’ this version of a wartimechocolate cake, which contains no eggs or dairy products, is actually quite moist and tasty!

Ingredients:

1 1/2 cups plain flour

1 cup sugar
1/4 cup cocoa
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 tablespoon vinegar
1/3 cup rice bran oil or other vegetable oil

1 cup water

Instructions: Preheat oven to 350F.

Mix all dry ingredients and stir to combine.
Add wet ingredients and stir through well.
Pour batter into a greased & lined 8 in square baking pan

Bake for 30 minutes or until skewer comes out clean.

If you are reading this, then it is likely that you are free to walk outside with no constraint, you are free to make your own choices and you are free to speak your mind. Lucky you.

Lucky me. Now the rest of the world.

http://gourmetgirl-friend.blogspot.com/2014/10/wartime-chocolate-cake-vegan-wacky-cake.html

https://www.de-basis.nl/over-ons/vfonds/

https://onstwedde.info/nieuws-reclame-bedrijven/nieuws-reclame-bedrijven-detail/article/koeiendans-bij-bio-boerderij-landleven-2.html

When it is officially Spring and the sun watches over the equator, dark and light have equal say: the Vernal Equinox. Vernal means ‘new’ or ‘fresh.’ Dutch farmers invite us to witness a wonderful event this time of year. True to tradition, they let their cows out of the stalls after a five month indoor sentence and the ecstatic bovines literally prance and dance   in the pastures. For the first time, my husband and I witnessed this release a few weeks ago and and observed the farmers gazing at their liberated cows with blissful expressions on their faces. No matter that the sunshine was missing on this day. Freedom. Space. Nature. Green grass. The cows nuzzled each other and jumped for joy. They raced out together, rather awkward in their natural surroundings at first but quickly, they adapted and carved out their own niches in the vast open space, so obviously happy to be alive.

I am reminded of another experience, this time not in Spring but on a glorious October day a few years ago, when I was at the Bleecker Street playground in New York City’s West End with my small granddaughter. It was around four o’clock in the afternoon when the peace of quiet playtime was shattered  by a surge – and I mean a stream, a rush, an overwhelming outpouring – of boisterous school-aged children who burst noisily onto the playground. They had just been released from school. I looked on, not in bliss like the farmers but in stupefaction, as I held the hand of my overwhelmed granddaughter. Charged with pent-up energy and intent on taking their places in this open space, the children shouted with glee and played tag, kicked around a ball and rushed the playground equipment. I surveyed the situation with mixed feelings which included awe and dismay. Really? We really want kids cooped up indoors all day?

Remember recess in the sixties? We were made to walk single-file to the door and then the teacher would nod her head. What ensued was a race for space on the playground. Things haven’t changed all that much. Kids and cows need freedom.

My mother collected teacups. Not necessarily expensive ones but lovely, decorative porcelain teacups. They were displayed in a glass cupboard in our dining room and they were never used.

When my mother died, I inherited the cups. I decided to use them. When friends came to tea or brunch, the colourful cups and their saucers took center stage, their rightful and meaningful place, on the table full of sweet and savoury delicacies. At my husband’s 60th birthday dinner, they also served as tiny soup bowls for stracciatella*. Because they are all different and unique, they looked beautiful on the table set in white. ‘Mummy is with us,’  I thought.

We have since moved house twice and have downsized in the process. The teacups have ended up in a box. Our 26 year old daughter would like to have Grandma’s  teacups ‘for later’ but doesn’t have any extra space in her apartment in Amsterdam, so I am saving the box of teacups for her. Some of them leak and some have unsightly cracks. My practical side is inclined to get rid of the imperfect cups. But then, remembering the concept of kintsugi, I decide to keep all of the teacups.

Kintsugi or kintsukuroi is a Japanese art form, especially applied to ceramics, where ugly cracks are intentionally made visible by filling them with gold. The cracks tell a story and are allowed to be there; in fact, their presence is emphasized. Why does everything and everyone have to be perfect, without cracks, without wrinkles, without irregularities? On social media we see only perfection. We know it’s not everyday reality and yet it attracts us. In Michael Sandel’s book ‘The Case against Perfection’, about the ethics of biotechnology, he mentions ‘the ethics of enhancement’. Designer babies, bionic athletes and embryo ethics are discussed. We are able and empowered to enhance; to do ‘more and better:’ but does that necessarily mean that we should? He dedicated his book to his two sons  who, in his words, ‘’are perfect just as they are.”

And they probably are. Life is a gift and we are perfect in our imperfection. What’s more, don’t we get better and learn from our imperfections, our scars, our mistakes? How wonderful if we can embrace these parts of ourselves instead of wasting energy  covering them up. What wonderful examples we can be if we teach the children and youth who are entrusted to us not only to accept their setbacks and their perceived less-than-perfect qualities, but to gild these qualities and experiences and be proud of them. They are what make us unique and special. From setbacks we learn to pause, reflect, adjust and move on. Not everyone has to have a Colgate smile and yet we make sure that the orthodontists always have enough work to do. The crooked tooth is beautiful, just like the crooked nose, the small breasts, the freckles and yes, the scars. In a world where perfection in performance, in beauty, in filling our various roles is desired and sometimes even insisted upon, there is little room left for remembering and reconciling with that which makes us who we are. It is not easy to stay true to ourselves if we are always  chasing an ideal. If we want to cross out and erase every mistake and every wound, we wander further and further away from ourselves. Imperfections and old wounds belong to us and form us. Kintsugi offers a different perspective: acceptance, healing, moving on; proud of the scars that make us who we are. As Billy Joel sings, “I love you just the way you are.’ Maybe it’s time to embrace ourselves, cracks and all.

*Recipe for Stracciatella

A light, nutritious and elegant soup made with boiling broth in which a mixture of eggs and grated Parmesan cheese, plus some ground nutmeg are scrambled. The eggs and cheese boil in the broth and form threads in about 30 seconds. Spinach or frozen peas can also be added to the soup; the nutmeg can also be replaced with grated lemon peel for a different taste sensation. The soup can be ready in  5-6 minutes. It is a light, nutritious and above all tasty soup. My mother was always waiting for us with her broth, whisk and egg-cheese mixture for stracciatella when we arrived from the Netherlands each year. Truly a golden memory for me and my family.

Credits:
Image cup courtesy of Etsy.com
Image face courtesy of https://youtu.be/u7q2Kbnb8RI
Sandel, Michael J. (2007). The Case against Perfection. 1st edition. Cambridge, Massachusetts and London, England: The Belknap or Harvard University Press.
Joel, William Martin. (1977) Just the Way you Are. On ‘The Stranger.’ Columbia Records.

Mijn moeder verzamelde theekopjes. Niet per se dure theekopjes maar mooie, fijne, porseleinen theekopjes. Zij waren geëtaleerd in een glazen kast in onze eetkamer en zij waren enkel voor de sier.

Toen mijn moeder overleed, kreeg ik de kopjes. Ik gebruikte ze wanneer vriendinnen op de thee kwamen en de kleurrijke kopjes en hun schoteltjes schitterden, charmant en betekenisvol, op mijn tafel vol zoete en hartige lekkernijen. Ook op het diner voor mijn man’s 60e verjaardag deden zij dienst als mini-soepkommetjes voor stracciatella.* Omdat zij allemaal verschillend zijn, stonden ze er prachtig op de met wit gedekte tafel. Mummy is bij ons, dacht ik toen.

Twee verhuizingen verder en de kopjes zijn in een doos beland want wij hebben gedownsized. Maar omdat dochterlief zegt Grandma’s teacups te willen hebben ‘voor later’ maar geen extra ruimte heeft in haar appartement in Amsterdam, bewaar  ik de doos met kopjes voor haar. Een aantal van de oude kopjes lekken en een aantal hebben barstjes. Praktisch van aard, ben ik geneigd om de minder goede kopjes weg te doen. Maar toen ontdekte ik het concept van kintsugi en ik heb ze gehouden.

Kintsugi or kintsukuroi is een Japanse kunstvorm, toegepast vooral op keramiek, waar lelijke barstjes expres zichtbaar worden gemaakt door ze op te vullen met goud. De barstjes vertellen een verhaal en mogen er zijn; sterker nog, zij worden juist benadrukt. Ik moet aan de Nederlandse gezegde ‘scherven brengen geluk’ denken. Waarom moet alles en iedereen perfect zijn, zonder barstjes, zonder rimpels, zonder oneffenheden? Op social media zien wij alleen perfectie. Wij weten dat het niet de enige realiteit is en toch trekt het ons. In  Michael Sandel’s book ‘The Case against Perfection”, over de ethiek van biotechnologie, noemt hij ‘the ethics of enhancement.’ Designer babies, bionische atleten en embryo ethiek passen de revue in zijn betoog. Meer en beter kan en mag: maar of het moet? Hij schreef zijn boek vóór aan zijn twee zonen ‘who are perfect just as they are.’

En zo is dat. Het leven is een cadeau en wij zijn perfect juist in onze imperfectie. Sterker nog, worden wij niet beter door en leren wij niet van onze imperfecties, onze littekens en onze fouten? Hoe heerlijk als wij deze delen van onszelf kunnen omarmen in plaats van energie verspillen om ze weg te moffelen. En wij kunnen geweldige voorbeelden zijn als wij de kinderen en jeugd die aan ons toevertrouwd zijn, leren om niet alleen met hun mindere kanten en tegenslagen om te gaan maar om ze juist een goud randje te geven en er trots op te zijn. Want de ‘oneffenheden’ maken iedereen uniek en bijzonder en de tegenslagen bieden ons de kans om pas op de plaats te nemen, reflecteren en met nieuwe inzichten door te gaan. Die scheve tand is juist mooi, net als de scheve neus, de kleine borsten, de sproeten en ja, ook de littekens. In een wereld waar perfectie in prestaties, in schoonheid, in het invullen van onze diverse rollen gewenst en soms zelfs vereist is, blijft er weinig ruimte over voor het vergulden van wat maakt ons wie wij zijn. Het is niet makkelijk om bij onszelf te blijven als wij altijd een ideaal achteraan hollen. Als wij elk foutje en elk wondje weg willen praten en uit willen wissen, dwalen wij verder en verder weg van onszelf. Imperfecties en oude wonden horen bij ons, vormen ons en maken ons wie wij zijn. Kintsugi biedt een ander perspectief: acceptatie, helen, verder gaan, trots op de littekens die ons maken wie wij zijn. Zoals Billy Joel zingt, ‘I love you just the way you are.’ Misschien is het  tijd om onszelf lief te hebben, barstjes en al.

*Stracciatella is een simpel en elegant soepje gemaakt met kokend (vlees)bouillon waarin een mengsel van eieren en geraspte Parmezaanse kaas, plus wat gemalen nootmuskaat erin worden geklutst. De eieren en de kaas koken in het bouillon en vormen draden in ongeveer 30 seconden. Spinazie of bevroren erwtjes kunnen ook erbij in de soep, ook citroenrasp i.p.v. nootmuskaat kan. In 5-6 minuten is de soep klaar. Het is een licht, voedzaam en vooral lekker soepje. Mijn moeder stond klaar voor ons met haar stracciatella als wij arriveerden uit Nederland elk jaar en dat herinnering heeft voor mij ook een goud randje.

Credits:

Image cup courtesy of Etsy.com

Image face courtesy of https://youtu.be/u7q2Kbnb8RI

Sandel, Michael J. (2007). The Case against Perfection. 1e druk. Cambridge, Massachusetts and London, England: The Belknap or Harvard University Press.

Joel, William Martin. (1977) Just the Way you Are. On ‘The Stranger.’ Columbia Records.

My two most comfortable places: the classroom and the kitchen. There, I know what to do and I do it with care and joy. I connect with myself and with others. I feel alive and can improvise and use my talents for others. I can create, with passion and with purpose. I feel flow and balance: at one with my essential nature, my life energy, my wisdom, my responsibility, my raison d’être.

Ikigai, Dharma; the concept has many names and definitions but I experience it as a resonance with the person I am meant to be. This awareness is soothing and empowering at the same time. Happiness is difficult to define, but this resonance could be it.

The meditative action of chopping vegetables in my kitchen, after an 8-hour workday with teenagers and colleagues, brings me back to my center. Using just the right amount of  energy at just the right moment contributes to my sense of well-being. The concentrated actions, the awareness of being in the moment and letting go of the day makes me calm and gives me a sense of purpose and of caring as I prepare a meal. Not having been raised on a diet of processed food in packets and jars,  I find it hard to imagine satisfaction in opening up a can and dumping its contents into a pan.

Daddy’s vegetable garden was the main source of our meals when I was growing up. Green beans, zucchini, cucumbers, lettuce, arugula, snap peas. We picked beautiful red tomatoes from the vines, still warm from the sun and bit into them as if they were apples. So many tomatoes that my mother spent hours putting them into jars for ragú in the winter. With her, we picked wild blueberries in the woods, which she later turned into scrumptious blueberry pies. I still have her pastry cutter, an heirloom of significance to me.

One of my favorite family-and-food- memories: excursions to Nantasket Beach. While we played in the cold Atlantic surf, my grandparents would climb onto  the rocks and pick off the periwinkles: very tiny sea snails. A dangerous hobby, especially at high tide. The tiny snails are considered to be poor man’s food but trust me, they are truly a delicacy. Returning home from the beach, we  showered the sand and salt from our sun-browned bodies and then gathered in my grandmother’s kitchen to feast on her transformation of the snails (‘lumache’) into an amazingly elegant dish, lumache in umido, served over polenta (cooked cornmeal) on a huge wooden board which was placed in the middle of the table. Portions were served  with a big spoon from the board and we all received a common pin to remove the cap of the tiny snails and to fish out their contents. A perfect end to a beach day. Sustenance prepared skillfully and lovingly. These moments formed me, formed my Ikigai.

So is my Dharma in my DNA? Maybe, or it may be a nature-nurture thing. Whatever,  the resonance I experience is a natural feeling of ‘‘coming home”; coming home to myself.

When do you resonate with yourself? What is your Ikigai?

My first maternity helper was the local butcher’s daughter.  (In the amazingly caring Netherlands, families with newborns receive postnatal baby-and-family care at home for a good start. ) Besides coaching me on the ins-and-outs of breastfeeding, ensuring that I got enough rest and making tea for guests who came to admire the new addition to our family, she tended to the evening meal. When we would ask ‘what’s for dinner?’, she would answer, ‘broccoli’ or ‘spinach’ or another vegetable. I found it curious; she was the butcher’s daughter yet didn’t refer to what we, at least in the 80’s, considered to be the main part of the  meal: MEAT.

Times change, vested interests change, traditions change, albeit that last, slowly.

If the butcher’s daughter in the 80’s was focussing on vegetables as the highlight of the meal, who am I to argue with her?

Green veggies and salads are a staple in our home, as a main or a side and this foolproof and attractive dish is always handy. It is a make-ahead and served at room temperature.

Basically, all one does is blanch lovely dark green (spring) vegetables, separately: think bimi, mange-touts, young snap peas, green asparagus tips, haricots verts.

Stop further cooking after blanching by rinsing under cold water, drain well or wrap carefully in a tea towel to get rid of the extra moisture and toss gently with a simple dressing. I use a nut oil (walnut or hazelnut) and white balsamico

or sherry vinegar, plus a touch of French mustard and honey. Lovely additions are thin strips of orange peel (without the white part!); in that case you could squeeze a bit of the orange into the dressing and/or chopped hazelnuts, à la Ottolenghi. I have at times even added a handful of arugula (rocket lettuce) just before serving, to make it more salad-like.

Leftovers I bring to work the next day; with the addition of crumbled fetà cheese I can enjoy a lovely and satisfying lunch.

The greens can ride shotgun….or take the driver’s seat. Up to you. Happy Sunday!

Back from Florida, back to rainy and windy March weather. Maartse buien. March comes in like a lion….can’t wait for it to go out like a lamb. Oh how wonderful the sun felt last week!

This weather calls for soup. Minestra, we called it at home, that was hearty soup. Soup, zuppa, was lighter, more summery.

In Nederland ontdekte ik soepballetjes. Zij komen voor in Italiaanse ‘wedding soup’ maar ik vind ze echt oer-Hollands. Mijn schoonmoeder maakte tomatensoep, niet erg speciaal, maar er waren balletjes. En die waren lekker! Op zoek in de Nederlandse supermarkt vond ik ze in blikken (blech) en in de diepvries (acceptabel en handig om in huis te hebben); en vers (ook acceptabel.)

Ik ontdekte dat de combinatie  balletjes met pasta elleboogjes of ditalini, in marinarasaus, een makkelijke en lekkere maaltijd was voor mijn zoontje. Met piselli, of course :).

Mijn zoontje is nu 36 jaar en Ik koop geen balletjes meer. Ik maak soep wel vaak voor mijn man en ik maak minestra zonder balletjes. Eigenlijk zonder vlees. Wat vlees is niet altijd nodig, toch? Pancetta gebruik ik soms als basis maar gedroogde chili flakes en knoflook of ui voldoen ook, gefruit in olijfolie.  Daarna de groenten: van alles, maar altijd wortels en bleekselderij en meestal ook gebroken sperziebonen of witte bonen, voor winter minestrone. Courgette kan, een aardappel mag ook, eigenlijk wat er ik over heb aan groente mag erin. Iets van een donkere bladgroente, aan het einde toegevoegd zodat het net slinkt. Wat zout, veel versgemalen peper. Verse basilicum hoort er ook bij en wat passata plus groentebouillon. No pasta in minestrone. En mijn moeder’s geheim:

de korst van Parmezaanse kaas.

De korst is gewoon kaas, niets anders. Het wordt zacht als de soep pruttelt en ik vis  het uit voordat ik het ga serveren. In mijn vriezer ligt altijd een bakje met restjes korst van Parmezaanse kaas, om te gebruiken in mijn minestre. Het geeft een heerlijke diepte en het bindt de soep. Verrukkelijk comfort food.

Ik ben twee keer naar de Parmigiano Reggiano kaas fabriekje in Parma, Italië geweest en het proces is een prachtige schouwspel. De kaas wordt gemaakt met net opgehaalde verse melk van grazende koeien en alles gebeurt op dezelfde tijd met dezelfde handelingen, elke dag, een wonderlijk ritueel van vakmanschap met als resultaat honderden wielen Parmigiano Reggiano.

Niet veel mensen weten dat mensen met lactose intolerantie Parmezaanse kaas mogen eten zonder problemen. Dit komt omdat een groot hoeveelheid lactose is uitgescheiden in het proces. Een gezond en lekker natuurproduct en een tip: heerlijk met dikke balsamico bij de borrel!

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