snow!

oranges

This time of year, we bring oranges to the table and the smell alone is enough to evoke Christmas memories and remind us of the traditions we once loved dear.

In our house growing up, oranges were a holiday treat. We'd shave the zest into Mummy's English shortbread. We'd flavor the brandy butter for the figgy pudding with orange liquor. Every year we'd receive a large box of fresh Florida oranges from Mama Sonia and Papa Roger—each fruit individually wrapped. When Santa came he'd always leave an orange in the toe of our stocking. (That's how we knew we were at the bottom!)

We'd make pomander balls by poking a plump orange with fragrant whole cloves and hanging it to dry. As a child this was one of my favorite Christmas activities—and it still is! Moreso than gift-giving, carol-singing, Christmas-shopping and cookie baking. Now, whenever I smell orange and clove, I think, "Christmas, special, family, shortbread, happy, cozy, pomander ball!"

I love the idea of relegating the orange—such a special fruit—to holiday enjoyment. These days, when we're able to get any kind of food or fruit any time of the year, I yearn for the simplicity of yesteryears' traditions. When having certain things at certain times made those things special (oranges in December, strawberries in June). We find nourishment in that simplicity and we pass it on so that others may also know that feeling and grow from it. So here, I pass on our beloved pomander balls to be enjoyed during the holidays:

How to Make Pomander Balls

You'll need: 1 orange, ribbon and whole cloves.

Wrap the ribbon around the orange once, then twist and wrap the other way like a present. Tie the ends into a bow. Insert the cloves into the skin of the orange until the surface is evenly covered. If the fruit is juicy, you can roll the pomander ball in ground cinnamon to absorb the liquid. Then hang the fruit to dry in an airy place. Retie the ribbon every couple of days as the fruit dries and shrinks. Eventually, after a few weeks the fruit will harden and become completely dry. At that point, you can tie off the ends of the ribbon into a knot and hang as an ornament on the tree!

hugs & love

By Emma H. W. Kouri


My sister Penelope and I have spent 4 days with our grandmother in Winter Park, Florida. This is the first time we've been to visit (together) since Papa Roger died last February. Everything is different now.

Mama Sonia is not the peppy, let's-go-shopping-and-out-to-lunch grandmother anymore. She doesn't want to go out, or even leave her apartment. She doesn't want to get dressed, and just wants to sit in her chair and think (and read, and watch T.V.).

When we were growing up, Mama Sonia was our sassy Puerto Rican grandmother who always spoiled us. She never forgot a birthday, she always took us to the latest Disney theme park, and she loved to go shopping. She was an amazing cook and loved to entertain. She has spent much of her life entertaining and socializing; nurturing others with her culinary skills and her knack for conversation.

Papa Roger always chose the route out of the building where he would run into the least amount of people. However, if he was with Mama Sonia, they had to go out the front so she could see/greet everybody who was out and about. Wish them happy birthday, tell them she is so sorry for their loss. Whatever people were experiencing, she knew it and she even knew the names of their loved ones. That Mama Sonia is not here now.

Mama Sonia does not remember birthdays or anniversaries, and most of the time she forgets what day it is. She has a new routine now, and it is one of solitude and peace. I have to say that I was extremely worried about her—she hasn't walked out of the door since we've been here! But, when I was having a glass (or two) of wine at Park Plaza Gardens today with Penelope, we talked and tried to understand. Here are some points that we came up with:

1. We could never, ever, understand the pain and loss that Mama Sonia is experiencing right now, since Papa Roger died
2. We cannot imagine what it's like to be (almost) 84
3. Mama Sonia's needs NEED to come first.

So, we came home today with a new attitude. Mama Sonia needs to be showered with love, and not judged for her actions. We bought her roses and the chocolate-covered popcorn that she loves. We made her (well, she asked actually) drink 2 glasses of wine with us. We made her laugh.

We had a talk with her and discovered her own take on things. First, she says, everybody is different in how they deal with things. She really doesn't want to go out and really doesn't feel sad when she's alone. She feels badly that people are worried about her. We told her that she needs to follow her heart; that she should not go out for anybody but herself. Only she knows what is best for her, after all she is 84 and full of wisdom. She still looks amazing, has great skin, and even smells wonderful! The old Mama Sonia may never come back to us. But the new one is real, honest, and just as nurturing as the old one. But she needs to be nurtured and accepted now. She needs to be nourished. By nourished, I mean (using her own words, after 2 glasses of wine):

To be hugged
To love others
To love yourself.

We love our grandmother and hope we have many more special times with her in the future.

hungry creatures

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.

Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colours,
He made their tiny wings.

The purple headed mountains,
The river running by,
The sunset and the morning,
That brightens up the sky;−

The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,−
He made them every one:

The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water,
We gather every day;−

He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell,
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.

(Amen)

—All Things Bright and Beautiful, hymn by Ce­cil F. Al­ex­an­der

gratitude

By Penelope Wall


For Americans especially, this particular week leading up to Thanksgiving is one in which nourishment is inextricably linked to the idea of gratitude. We give thanks for our bountiful feast and the bounty in our lives.

We should always be grateful, not just on Thanksgiving. But it's human nature, I think, to want to compartmentalize our rituals--and to say, for example, "On this day I'm going to be especially grateful," and "on that day I'm going to be especially loving." And to put marshmallows on top of sweet potatoes for just that one meal during the year.

What if we had marshmallows on top of our sweet potatoes all the time? For one, the dish wouldn't be special anymore. We might lose sight of its importance (do we know what the importance of marshmallows on top of sweet potatoes is?). And, we might all become overweight, because marshmallows on top of sweet potatoes is certainly indulgent.

We reserve that wonderful treat for special occasions so that all of the other days may build up in anticipation. In other words, we give our symbolic moments strength by letting them shine just one day of the year.

And we like traditions to dictate how we spend our days and how we celebrate--with roast turkey, of course.

But in our family at Thanksgiving, turkey never really took center stage (my mother's English after all). Some years, we just couldn't afford it. Other years, one of us was vegetarian and it was tofurky or bust. Other years, we'd say, "let's just have fish!" And so, when I look back and take note of the common thread throughout the years, it wouldn't be the roast turkey or the marshmallows; it would have to be, well, the gratitude--ritualized by going around in a circle and saying out loud something we're thankful for.

If you really think about it though, what you're thankful for changes every day, every hour. What you're thankful for on Thanksgiving is really just a snap-shot in time. You might wake up thinking, "I'm grateful for the sunshine on my face." And you might go to bed that night thankful for the dark to woo you into slumber. Such is the fleeting nature of human emotion. Which is why, Thanksgiving is one holiday that doesn't really benefit from the build-up of anticipation. Rather, it should glow beneath the surface throughout our days.

And so in the spirit of gratitude every day, I want to say:

Right now, I'm thankful that I didn't hit the two deer that leaped right in front of my car on the drive home from work tonight. I'm thankful for the wild (alive) turkeys in my parents' yard (and they're thankful, I'm sure, for the tofurky). I'm thankful for Suki kneading my belly and Au Lait warming my feet. For the birds on the feeder and the entertaining squirrels. I'm thankful for all the creatures in this world that live beside us nourishing us quietly and perfectly in their own way.

to be pregnant

Essay and Artwork by Elisa Freeman Smith
Photograph by Brett Smith

As I sit here with my laptop, feeling my unborn child shifting and kicking about in my belly to the point where this action jars my arm and affects my typing (well, almost!); I realize that I have indeed come into a new awareness. Thoughts on nourishment are central to this new consciousness, ranging from digesting the endless media regarding pregnancy do’s and don’ts, to the daydreams about how my child is growing inside of my own body and how nourishing myself will in turn nourish her.

Feeling my baby tap-dance on the flip-side of my popping belly-button evokes such a feeling of awe—I tell my husband, Brett, that I can’t help but feel so special. I am just so lucky to be the one who gets to carry this tiny, magical life form (cue holy music and spotlight shining down on me)—I must be the only person on earth who has ever experienced such a sacred event… REALITY CHECK—Cut Spotlight. As soon as I come back down to earth I see moms and kids everywhere. Yes, this is happening every day. More than once. More than twice. In fact, every glowing, smiling basketball-bellied lady in my whole pre-natal yoga class is sitting next to me every Wednesday with their hands on their stomachs feeling the EXACT SAME THING!! (Not to mention a thousand or so other prenatal yoga classes around the continent every day…) Well, not exactly the same thing, but you get were I’m going. I feel like I go through this little roller coaster of emotions almost daily—they say it’s hormones. Luckily, I’ve settled somewhere in between feeling very happy to have this experience, but at the same time, glad to have others that share it with me. Nourishment, especially during pregnancy, definitely feels like a community experience.

As many others who have participated in this blog have declared, nourishment means far more to them than the food that they eat, and my feelings about nourishment during pregnancy are not much different in that I feel an increased desire for overall nourishment – body, mind, spirit. However, the direct connection between the food that nourishes me and in turn nourishes my baby cannot be denied. It’s the topic of many a panic-stricken Q & A session in the online pregnancy forums. ‘I ate goat cheese last night, is my baby going to miscarry due to Listeriosis?’ ‘I had 2 glasses of wine last week before I knew I was pregnant—is my baby going to have Fetal Alcohol Syndrome?’ ‘I didn’t know I couldn’t eat more that 12 oz of fish per week—is my baby going to have mercury poisoning??’ That last one is a good example of why all of this media hype must be taken with a grain of salt. The official “rule” according to all of the pregnancy-related books, websites, etc. when I became pregnant last May was that you should not eat more than 12 oz of seafood, and that was from a limited list of seafood based on each species’ mercury content. Flash forward to October 4th, just a month ago, and the headlines read: “Pregnant and breast-feeding women should eat at least 12 ounces (340 grams) of fish and other seafood a week because the benefits for infant brain development outweigh any worries about mercury contamination, a group of U.S. experts said on Thursday.” Oh yes, this did totally contradict my carefully regulated weekly seafood regimen of the previous 5 months of my pregnancy. After a moment of panic related to my feeling that there was no doctor, no website, no book that could tell me exactly what to do to take care of my baby; I realized that I am the mother and that I need to have faith and trust in myself and my own motherly instincts, as mothers have been doing since the very first child was conceived.

My instincts have basically led me to enjoy everything I’ve always enjoyed, in moderation. Although this may mean only an occasional sip of my favorite wine, it means way more chocolate milk, which is almost as good to me. It may also mean a slightly larger portion of dinner- particularly vitamin-rich leafy greens, which I can never seem to get enough of. Getting enough iron and folic acid is one of those tried and true pregnancy “musts,” that drives this urge. Not only do I eat spinach, kale and brussels sprouts whenever possible, but I also diligently add a couple of tablespoons of wheat germ to my yogurt and hot cereal every day. Oh, and, the girl definitely gets her fair share of ice cream! For me, there isn’t an exact science to it, but all of this in addition to a daily pre-natal vitamin give me piece of mind that I am doing the best job I can of physically nourishing myself and the baby. Every time I feel a healthy kick, I think about how I am helping my baby develop and grow strong.

So, as Brett and I sit here eating seafood to our hearts’ contents, I’m confident that I’ve come to a sort of pregnancy-food-nourishment-self-actualization. Now I’m free to focus on other forms of nourishment that will promote our daughter-to be’s development. Brett and I have talked a lot about the nourishment of our own characters, with a belief that leading by example is one of the best forms of parenting. We are sure that in this new phase of life the need and opportunity for all types of nourishment will be abundant, but that may be another blog entry…



—Elisa Freeman Smith, Artist & Mother-to-Be

unexpected pleasures

From my sister...

My husband and I have re-discovered China Express on Shelburne road.
Anybody who knows us will be surprised to know that we eat there (since
we are such food snobs). Actually, we really like the food, and have
been ordering take-out from there once a week for the last month. The
same guy answers the phone every time, and is always a pleasure. Once,
he convinced me to have my shrimp breaded and fried (he said it tastes
better, which it does, but I didn't feel very good eating it). In fact,
we're eating it right now and we're both in ecstasy. Here is our
regular order:
Steamed veggie dumplings
Steamed shrimp shumai
Beef with garlic (extra spicy for Kevin)
Shrimp with garlic (for me)
Brown rice.

We share the appetizers, and always have a ton of food left for lunch
the next day. The main dishes are sauteed with lots of veggies, like
carrots, snow peas, broccoli, water chestnuts, and onions. Kevin likes
to eat his dinner with a beer, and I like seltzer.

Yummy!

—Emma H.W. Kouri, M.S., Graduate Teaching Assistant, Animal Science Department, University of Vermont

provision from above

Though not traditional American fare, in England goose is saved for the most special occasions like Christmas or celebrations. Growing up, I remember singing the nursery rhyme that my mother taught us, "Christmas is a-coming and the goose is getting fat. Please put a penny in the old man's hat. If you haven't got a penny, a ha'penny will do. If you haven't got a ha'penny, a farthing will do. If you haven't got a farthing, then God bless you!" But the closest we ever got to the real thing was running away from the mean, honking (alive) beasts at the Thorson's farm in Dorset, Vermont. We never actually had goose (farmed or wild) for Christmas. Perhaps this year will be different... though I'm not sure I'm quite there yet with my dad who can look up in the sky at the signature V-formation and think "dinner."



The Fall, my favorite time of year! One of the things that I love about it are the geese that fly over our house on the way to warmer climate.

It was on Saturday morning that we saw several flocks when I said to my wife Sally, (please don't be offended) “Wouldn't it be nice to have one of those on our table.”

Wouldn't you know it that that very evening my good friend Stewart presented me with two beautifully cleaned wild Canadian Goose breasts from geese that had been shot that very day. (They are huge.) We have put them in the freezer to save them for a special occasion. (Like maybe my birthday coming soon 11/6.) I will try this recipe.

For wild goose, it is best to soak the breasts in buttermilk for a day beforehand.

Goose Breast à l'Orange

Ingredients:
2 breasts of goose
1 pkg. dry onion soup mix
1 apple, sliced
2 cups water
2 tbsp. frozen orange juice (undiluted)

To make:
Fillet breasts. Place breasts on platter and cover with apple and orange. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight. Place apple, and orange and fillets in 1 1/2 quart oblong baking dish. Empty onion soup into dish; add water. Bake at 300 degrees for 2 hours. Serve with pan drippings. Serves 4.

—Larry Wall, Newport, Vermont

nourishing the people

Nourishment is a sexy word and naturally conjures up the warm and fuzzy sentiments—the extra-special things—that make us feel, well, nourished. These are the things we are wont to explore and write about. But what about those everyday commodities that nourish us behind the scenes? Those things—such as milk or water—so common, yet so important to our daily nourishment. We take them for granted. Is milk just not sexy enough to warrant our attention?

While most of us think of nourishment in terms of our own experience, there are some, like my brother-in-law, who can’t think about nourishment without thinking about those who nourish us. For Kevin Kouri, a dairy nutritionist from Burlington, Vermont, understanding what it takes to get the milk from the cow to the table is a part of what he does every day. He visits the farmers of Franklin County; he listens to their stories and helps troubleshoot their dilemmas. He’s not only a consultant, but a friend and confidant. His phone is always on, even on weekends. That’s just the nature of the business.

Here Kevin helps us dig a little deeper for the story behind milk and explains why we should all try to understand a little bit more.



Nourishment comes in many different forms for me. Playing golf with friends and family, skiing down the slopes of the Green Mountains, taking in a day on the waterfront or watching the people on Church Street in downtown Burlington, spending time with my beautiful wife and my English black lab are all things that gives me fulfillment and nourishment.

What I would like to explore in this short essay about nourishment is not what I find nourishing to my own body, mind or soul. Instead, I would like to focus on those individuals who bring nourishment to all of the people who reside on this planet: farmers.

Farmers are purveyors of all things good, natural, clean, healthy and pure. They are stewards of the land and protectors of the environment. As consumers of their goods, we do not celebrate enough their hard work, commitment and sacrifice they make to support our own lifestyle. Popular press articles about agriculture typically spin a story about big agriculture and the pollution it generates. It’s convenient for us to read these stories and believe they are true, without seeking out the truth on our own. I hope that I can convince the readers of this essay to seek their own truth about agriculture.

Farmers’ markets have sprung up as the new vogue thing in the last couple of years. We have taken ourselves out of the grocery stores to shop directly from the small-scale producers and support local agriculture. As a person who works day in and day out in the agricultural world, I find this enlightening and beneficial to our environment and economy. When I stroll the Burlington farmers’ market I see signs boasting catch-phrases like “local,” “community-supported,” “organic,” “natural,” “hormone- and pesticide- free,” “family,” “low-intensive” and “sustainable.” Words that make us consumers feel great, happy to buy what they have to sell, and that we did our good deed for the day.

The idea of “big agriculture” isn’t so recent and in the United States dates as far back as the early Twentieth Century when U.S. agriculture saw a tremendous boom primarily due to World Wars I and II. The largest growth tended to be the dairy sector. Not only did we need to supply milk and cheese to our troops and foreign allies, but also we needed to feed the citizens of Europe. This forced the agriculture industry to grow in order to meet the demand. Over time the phrase of “big agriculture” has become ugly and some people feel that big farmers, primarily livestock and dairy farmers, are ruining the landscape and the environment.

These forces have started to collide pinning small agriculture vs. big agriculture. This is bad policy and it could signal the change to the future of agriculture in Vermont and other New England states.

Both can exist and they should exist. How is a 500, 1000, or even 2000 cow dairy farm bad? Have you ever stepped onto a farm of this size or seen the regulations they must follow for animal husbandry and environmental protection? Would you ever consider they are milking that many cows because the farmer has a family of 10-15 sons and daughters who all work and hold stake in the farm and who are each supporting their own family? Some dairy farms such as these support 20-30 employees and must provide a livable wage with health insurance and sometimes a 401K plan for all of them.

This is not big agriculture this is the size of a farm that can sustain its family members with a livable wage during good years, and provides jobs to citizens of the community. The farmers work an honest day to make an honest product that we all enjoy. So if size is the issue, remember what comes with that size and the families that operate these dairies, big or small. These are third- and even fourth-generation farms that have cared and nurtured the land year after year to bring a product like milk to everyone’s table. To make a product that is pure, safe and wholesome.

Currently, most consumers do not buy locally made milk. As a region, we are short on providing milk due to large fluid markets such as New York City and Boston. So a lot of milk flows in from the West. If we want to buy locally supported produce and meat at the Burlington Farmers Market, we should make the same conscious decision at the dairy case.

Read and ask questions. It’s up to us as consumers to understand where our food comes from and what is behind it. If we do not try to understand, then it’s too easy for policy makers and lobby groups to dictate the future of our food sources. Agriculture needs to have a unified voice not a divided force.

I am a believer in regional food production and I feel dairy needs to be number one in this category. Agriculture is the number one revenue-generating industry in the state followed by tourism. It is not IBM, Burton, General Dynamics, UVM or Pratt and Whitney that are the number-one employers in this great state of Vermont—it is the farmers.

Next time you drive by a big dairy on 22A in Addison County or on Route 105 in Enosburg Falls, try not to focus on the fact that the farm smells or looks intrusive in such a pretty landscape. Instead think about the number of people working there—the people who are caring for the land and animals—and the family that’s trying to make a living like everyone else.

—Kevin M. Kouri, M.S., Dairy Nutritionist/Sales, Poulin Grain, Inc.

transparency

In order to minimize my impact here on Earth, I’ve thought about what it would mean to lead a transparent life. What it would mean to untangle the complexity of this world, and truly understand and find meaning in the basic elements that contribute to my existence here.

It would mean taking nothing for granted. It would mean having a hand in the decisions I make. A literal hand. It would mean mixing my dough rather than pulling it from the package. It would mean raising the chicken if I’m to have eggs. Growing the wheat to make the flour. It would mean walking to work. 12 miles down Route 7. And 12 miles back. On shoes that I made from tree bark or, if I have the stomach, from the leather of a felled doe. That I felled myself. It would mean fetching water from the lake (a 15-minute walk there and 15 minutes back). And then to boil it to purify it. On fire that I built by rubbing some dry wood with a piece of stone… And that’s just to start.

To iron out the complexities of life would mean intangible things as well: being honest and true, pursuing knowledge while being sensitive to the needs of others, yearning for community, taking time to understand.

To reach transparency is a huge task. We can only get there one step at a time. I might not have room or time to raise my own chickens, but I can choose to buy eggs from my local farmer and I can make an effort to visit his farm and understand his practice. It is there in our search for understanding that we build community and sensitivity. We nourish one another. And we learn that our efforts have the power to build exponentially upon each other.



Blog Action Day

cuisine & tradition

This time of year always reminds me of Arles, an ancient town in Southern France, where I was an au pair girl for several months after college. I lived with a culinary family—an Arlesien father and an American mother named Madeleine—who runs a cooking school there specializing in the ancient foods of the region. I was there in the fall and early winter. I was there for mushroom hunting and truffle season. I was there for foie gras and fig nougat, olive harvest and Chateauneuf du Pâpe. Erick made a wonderful pâte de coing (quince patty) that's like a glorified fruit roll-up, only thick and chewy and we would cut it into ruby red squares and serve with a lovely sheep's tome from the nearby farm.

There were the luxurious chocolate truffles from Joel Durand, showcasing exotic regional flavors like lavender, chestnut, honey, and basil. And there was so much more. When there were students there were six-course meals. When there were none we ate up the leftovers of magret de canard, smoked salmon, and milles feuilles. We'd spread foie gras on our toast for breakfast. It was beyond nourishment at times and bordered on excess. But that was the nature of the business. And I was lucky enough to plunge into this crash course of French cuisine and Provencale culture.

Madeleine and I still stay in touch. And at the beginning of each new season, I enjoy receiving her e-mail missives describing all of the lovely goodies they're finding at market right now (Arles has one of the largest outdoor markets in France that wraps around the main boulevard right outside the city walls), what their friends and farmers and artisans are up to, and of course what's cooking in the kitchen. Below is an excerpt from one of my favorites called "Early Winter in Provence."

I'm baking more bread with my lively starter that's been bubbling since last March. Sometimes I pour in some muesli, sometimes some leftover spelt berries, a bit of chopped dried apricots. As the whim takes me. Hot cocoa and hot honey laced tea for breakfast, a rich red wine for dinner. Warm soups of every possible winter root vegetable are a weekly event (that is, I make enough to savor each one for a week!) Rutabaga, parsnips (ooh I love these!), turnips, squash, leeks, potatoes... often these are enriched with a bit of broth I've culled from a duck carcass, or rabbit bones.

The French see this time of year as chocolate weather. As we begin our preparations for the season many Christmas fairs are sprouting up, and chocolate stands with dark rich truffles, fruit puree laced ganaches and more are always a prime feature. The weather is ideal -- though a bit less humidity would be better. And with the lessening daylight hours, a bit of extra magnesium just feels good. Time to sample that black currant ganache recipe we learned from the chocolate maker... perhaps as a filling in my buche de Noel? (I've put this recipe below. Enjoy!)

We're also feeling the need for a bit more nourishment -- a bit of foie gras perhaps? Rich for some, forbidden fruit for others, the French see it as a seasonal delight. Now through the New Year's is a time for a bit of indulgence. Mistakenly (if happily so) I enjoyed a bit of foie gras during my two pregnancies, thinking "ah, extra iron." Ah well, whatever excuse is necessary. And yes, I too have adopted this winter "habit."

Cassis/Black Currant Ganache

This recipe is straight from the chocolate maker with only minor adjustments on my part. All the measurements are in grams, so rather than cups or other utensils, you'll only need a gram scale, a sauce pan, a sturdy knife for chopping the chocolate, and a large bowl with a whisk for mixing. To use this recipe in a cake, let sit for a half hour or so at room temperature (or table to cool quickly) and then spread on your cake. Let set before putting on your second layer, or, before rolling in the case of a log cake.

Ingredients:
240 grams black currant purée
40 grams sugar
4 grams pectin
100 grams sugar
125 grams UHT heavy cream

To make:
Boil all the above ingredients together then pour over in batches:

500 grams dark chocolate (55% or more) couverture - chopped finely
125 grams milk chocolate couverture - chopped finely

After the mixture is fully incorporated, and reduced in temperature, add the 125 grams creme de cassis liquor.

You can table this mixture to cool it, and then pour it into a square mold to set over night, or for 36 hours. Till ready to cut and dip in dark chocolate.

Take care, and our best to you.

—Madeleine Vedel, Association Cuisine et Tradition, www.cuisineprovencale.com

autumn clarity

When you ask a person to write something for you, it is a very intimate request. That's because when you ask someone to write, you are essentially asking them to shave away a layer of skin—of privacy—and expose a little bit of their innermost being for the world to see and judge.

I was a little hesitant to ask my boy Colin to write on nourishment. I had to be careful that the experience would not put us as odds in any way, that it indeed be nourishing—for both of us. I needn't have worried. He gladly accepted, and as I watched him typing his words out last night, I realized: this is the first bit of writing I will have read by him. This is nourishment in its most honest and real form: to share a part of yourself with someone you love, to make yourself vulnerable, to discover, to trust. To bring down your barriers and let someone in. Because in the peeling away, our bonds grow stronger. We become, in all irony, more richly layered through our experience. Col's eventual theme, then, of "shedding skin and growing new layers" seems quite fitting.

The changing time… the kids are back in school, it’s getting cold out, the landscape is shedding new colors, and the summer is officially over.

From summer into fall, it is my favorite time of year. The time of autumn, where there is so much change around us, in preparation for the coming winter. It’s where we find nostalgia in putting our sweater on for the first time since the previous season, where apples never tasted so sweet and savory, and where we feel that another year has just ended and a new one is beginning (even though it doesn’t officially happen until January).

My surroundings alert the involuntary sustenance all over again, and it makes what is a new year, come in the most positive and assured light.

It is here, I feel nourishment within me—a time of reflection and preparation—a time of shedding my skin and growing a new layer.

—Colin Alger

balance

From A(vocadoes) to Z(en), each person has his or her own interpretation of nourishment. For some, like my dad, spiritual nourishment has a lot of weight in daily life. As a spiritual leader, he doesn't have the leisure to differentiate between what he does and what he preaches; between what he eats and what he serves up in communion to his congregation. I respect him for taking on that task. It's so easy for us, as laymen, to compartmentalize our needs and our actions: but for full nourishment, all parts of the whole must complement each other--must be balanced by each other.

We need a more holistic approach; an over-arching theme that places equal emphasis on what we eat, on how we interact, and on how we connect to a higher being. In academia, they like to call this interdisciplinary. Essentially meaning: everything connects.

Windy field by Colin Alger

Laurence, Father & Spiritual Leader

Beloved: Grace and Peace be unto you. As we look at the topic of nourishment, we need to understand that, as human beings, we are "triune," which literally means "three in one," and that we are comprised of body, soul and spirit. The body is our physical presence. The soul is that part of our being which has to do with emotions and feelings; through the soul we are able to know about ourselves as well as others. The spirit is the part of us which enables us to worship, to pray and to have communion with God.

In order for us to be fulfilled, all three areas must be well nourished--understanding that balance is essential. In the Gospel of John 4:34, we read the words of Jesus: "My nourishment comes from doing the will of God, Who sent me, and from finishing His work."

In the scriptures that precede this one, we have the story of a woman to whom Jesus reached out, who was in desperate need of help. She had been married five times, and was presently living with Number Six, who wasn't her husband. Her life had been one of pain and disappointment, and was in need of help. Jesus reached out to help. The woman's life was transformed, and in the helping, He received nourishment.

For me, the greatest nourishment I receive is when an opportunity to help someone arises, and I am able to make a difference in their life.

I have committed to spending my life mending broken people. This brings me nourishment. I also must guard what I take into my spirit. I am sure you have heard the line: "You are what you eat!" in referring to our physical bodies; but the same applies spiritually.

If I am properly nourishing my spirit, the outcome will be love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. How are you doing with your spiritual nourishment? Are there areas in your life that need attention? Is there someone that needs your help? Contact me at ncog@verizon.net.

Grace, peace and love to you!
Your friend,
Larry Wall

family on nourishment

When I think of what nourishment as a concept means to me, I think of my family. And so, in undertaking this project—of asking others to contribute their ideas on nourishment—I went first to my mother and sisters.

hannah, sister

The first one who responded was Hannah, my oldest sister. Three time zones and three thousands miles away, it turns out we had the same exact thing on our minds. Her response:


That's whack. I wrote this poem yesterday:

If we measure the time between our meeting
by the rotting of tomatoes and
avocados,
I would hope that these pieces
and our movement
is organic,
So they'll rot quicker
And no one goes hungry
with want and waiting in the interim.

Let me be clear:
I want to see you
before the vegetables decay.
I want to see you before you are filled with regret
at the waste, of time and food.
One day we will grow these fruits
together
And feed each other daily,
Nourishment springing up around us
to build a house of trees and vines.
Till then, we place carrots and radishes at acute angles,
pointing to passing,
and posing for decomposition.

xo love you.

—Hannah Wall

emma, sister

My other sister came next, and she said a lot of the same things that I myself have been feeling. I love that supple skin is just as important as relaxation and comfort. All of these things are evidence of bodily and spiritual nourishment.


I have thought about it and decided to tell you words/thoughts that come to mind when I think of nourishment:

Warmth, flavor, drink, comfort, peace, laughter, love, satisfaction, health, blood flow, supple skin, happiness, culinary creations, relaxation, family. When I feel nourished, I feel complete and mentally at peace.

—Emma Kouri

sally, mother

Finally my mother. First I received a voicemail at work: "Nourishment. Certainly is not when your daughter doesn't answer the telephone." I finally got in touch with her and she asked, "is it too late to write something and is it okay if it's not about food?" I said, of course it wasn't, and of course it was (wondering if she would remember how to email it to me). She did.


The other day, Sadie and I went down to the river. It had rained incessantly for a couple of days, and the earth smelt as it should: mossy, heaving with life, warm, wet, dark...and so we went, she and I, unable to resist the call. On the way down, I bumped into a tree, who, indignant, released the captive raindrops she had been hoarding. Drenched from the unexpected 'gift', I could only laugh. I felt a little silly! Sadie, certainly, had no idea what all this mirth represented.

On down to the river, but not to stop at our usual hole. Some adventure beckoned, and we picked up the gauntlet. Ploughing ahead through uncharted bogland, for so it is, black and foreboding, we were astonished at the beauty of the red and orange toadstools, no toads were sitting, however; red cedars sat above the bogs, standing on tippy-toes, high on their snake-like roots, keeping dry. Following the river, we won't get lost now; we came upon a huge rock, covered in moss. Right by the river...deeply swirling.

Sadie plopped into the water, and swam and swam. Oh, my Lord, nobody knows where I am! What if we get sucked into the black, black earth in one of those bogs, we'll never be found! What if there's a bear behind this mossy rock!

All of a sudden, it was very important to head on up to the clearing in the treetops shining all yellow against the blue sky... Don't worry about deer-paths, just plunge and go, quickly! I know that if we just keep going in this direction we'll come to...and there it was! The old familiar path, through the ferns, that wends its way down to Clyde Pond. Ahh...nourishment!

—Sally Wall

on nourishment

What does real nourishment taste like? Does it taste like an expensive meal? Does it taste of discovery or love or nutrients? Does it taste like a childhood story?

There was a crucial moment a few years back when I learned that nourishment has many manifestations. Nourishment for the body, for instance, tastes and satisfies in a very different way than nourishment for the soul. A meal that fills the tummy can in other ways leave you feeling very empty.

During that particular time in my life, I was eating very, very well. I was in good company. I was in a constant mode of discovery. But emotionally speaking, I did not feel nourished. And for that reason, my stomach was in constant turmoil.

Nourishment for the soul and nourishment for the body go hand in hand.

Nourishment does not necessarily mean an expensive full-course meal at a nice restaurant. On the contrary, the best and most memorable meals are the ones you scrape together with what you already have in your fridge and your garden (if you’re lucky). Perhaps because there’s an even greater summit to reach, the taste is that much sweeter.

Growing up, we never had much money, so we had to be very resourceful. If I wanted cookies or cake, I would make them from scratch. That’s how I learned to bake. It’s also how I learned to be experimental in the kitchen—mixing unusual flavors and ingredients to make something tasty.

I’ll never forget running out to the garden patch and plucking a cucumber from the vine. We would eat them skin and all—still warm from the sun—dipped in vinegar and salt. A poor man’s salad to be sure. But nourishing to the core.



Originally published on Penelope Post Blog, May 2007.