Roxanne’s Magic Bean Stew, courtesy of Michael Ruhlman

Hello! I feel like I’ve been away forever. And I’m not sure why. I think it’s because my food life has been taken over by trying to become gluten free. Which has been interesting, if difficult. Also, I had house guests for a few days. Plus there’s work. Yoga. My garden. Book clubs. Plays. Music. Friends.

Let’s face it: this effort I’ve been making over the past couple of years to rebuild my life after my marriage ended? It’s worked. My life is rich and full. The downside is that I find myself less and less interested in writing about what I’m doing. But, thankfully, this isn’t true for everyone. For example, Michael Ruhlman, who posted this inspiring entry about a conversation he had with Cleveland Clinic Preventative Medicine Physician Roxanne Sukol.  (I got my computer fixed and now the link feature works again!) They talked about food and nutrition and, at the end, he shared the following recipe. Which I’m planning to make for dinner tonight. I’ll let you know how it goes. If you try it, please do the same.

Roxanne’s Magic Bean Stew
(adapted for Michael Ruhlman’s kitchen and then again, for my style and the contents of my pantry)

1 cup of your favorite beans (I’m using Mother Stallard, from Rancho Gordo)
1 quart/liter water
1 28-ounce can crushed tomatoes
1 onion, chopped
1 Bay leaf
1″ piece of kombu
Pink Himalayan (or Kosher or any other) salt and freshly ground pepper

Combine everything except the salt and pepper in the insert of your slow cooker.  Cover and cook on low in a slow cooker for 7-8 hours. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

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Kitchari with cauliflower

I woke this morning to snow. Nonetheless, it is undeniable that Spring has finally come to Chicago. Slowly and cautiously, true, but it’s here. I can tell from the constant birdsong outside my open bedroom window, and the slow greening of ground I saw peeking through the thin veneer of snow when I left home this morning. Thank god. It has been a long winter. I’m tired of wearing snow boots and coats and tights.

Don’t get me wrong. I actually rather enjoy winter, with the slow cooked foods and nesting. Few experiences comfort me as much as being home, all cozy and warm, during a snowstorm. And yet. I also love being able to leave home without having to spend ten minutes gearing up for the outdoors. The feel of air on skin. Skirts.

This transition may seem odd, but when I first heard of kitchari, from a friend out in L.A. who thought I might want to blog about it, the name made me think of skirts. Because there is a similarity of sound. In fact, however, according to Haley Hobson, “Kitchari is a traditional Ayurvedic dish that’s known to assist in detoxing the body and balancing all three doshas: vata, pitta, and kapha. Kitchari provides awesome nutrients while cleansing the toxins out of the body. It’s a great way to cleanse the body and soul in a gentle way.” (http://bit.ly/1gqpwce)

Almost a year has passed since my friend first sent the link about kitchari.  At the time, I was completely scattered, still shell shocked from the end of my marriage, only just starting to get used to living alone, and preparing to move. I was a bit of a wreck. And I thought I was fine. Cleansing probably would have been helpful. But it didn’t happen. This year, though, I’m in a completely different space. I’m happy. More grounded than I’ve been since childhood. And slowly beginning to understand that the idea of external stability is a myth, that real stability must come from within.

These days, my life is all about this choice I’ve made to live every minute from a place of love, to dive down into the murky waters of the unknown, kick off, and start swimming. With no destination. Except that of course I’m hoping, expecting, to hit land. To find a shore. To not keep swimming forever. And that’s the thing: this swimming is forever. I will never land. That’s the illusion. My landing is inside, in yoga, the life I make. There’s no external island of safety, where someone else is going to take over, make things alright. It’s all only me. Maybe a partner, one day. But maybe not. And even if there is someone else, I now know that a committed relationship does not create certainty. Nothing is ever forever and certain. Life is fluid. And as scary as that is, it is also okay. I’m learning to be grateful for what I have now. Which is pretty wonderful.

In addition to many incredibly rewarding relationships, my life is wonderful because I have the constants of work, cooking, and yoga. Lots of yoga. Exciting yoga. Especially two weeks from now, when I get to take a workshop with Ana Forrest. (http://bit.ly/1c9ZnMG) I’m looking at it as a trial run for teacher training. So, to that end, I did a little research. I learned that there are all sorts of requirements for teacher training with Ana Forrest. Including dietary restrictions. Like no coffee. WTF?!

kitchari

The thought of no coffee is daunting. I can already feel the headache of withdrawal. Which makes me think I should probably do a trial cleanse before the upcoming workshop. Starting with Kitchari. So I made it today, adapting the recipe that that Hobson shared in the link, above. While I wouldn’t serve it at a dinner party, it’s actually quite tasty. And supremely comforting. Here’s what I did.

4 T. coconut oil
1 head cauliflower, separated into florets
1 T. black mustard seeds
1T. mustard seeds
1 2-inch piece of fresh ginger, peeled and minced
1 T. turmeric
1 heaping t. ground cumin
1/2 t. cardamon
1/2 t. cinnamon
1/2 t. coarsely ground black pepper
1 c. dry green mung beans
1 c. brown basmati rice
5 c. water
1″ piece kombu
1 T. pink Himalayan (or kosher) salt, or to taste

1. Rinse the beans, place them in a bowl, and cover with warm water. Set aside to soak.

2. Heat 1 T. coconut oil in a large skillet over medium high heat. Spread a layer of cauliflower florets in the skillet, leaving room around the pieces, and cook for about 10 minutes, turning occasionally, until lightly browned. You’ll probably need to cook the cauliflower in two batches. Add a couple of tablespoons of water to the pan if it starts to get too brown.

3. Meanwhile, heat the remaining coconut oil in a medium or large saucepan over medium heat. Add the seeds and heat until they start to pop. Drain the beans. Add the ginger, herbs, beans, and rice to the mustard seeds in coconut oil and cook, stirring, for a minute or two, until the herbs are fragrant. Add the water and kombu. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat to a simmer, add the cauliflower, cover, and cook for approximately 40 minutes. Stir in salt. Serve!

Cranberry beans in tomato-fennel sauce over polenta with Parmesan

I haven’t had time to cook in the past week. The sketch comedy show I’m in is happening this weekend, so we’ve been rehearsing almost every night. The one night off I went to two yoga classes, back to back, trying to find my center again. I had gotten super stressed, just a ball of anxiety, feeling guilty because I wasn’t excited about the show, kinda hated this group of people who I ordinarily love without reservation. It was a difficult week. But one upside is that I had prepared by cooking and freezing food. Including these beans. Which I ate yesterday. And OMG–I still can’t believe how good it is. For reals. This time I skipped the polenta, because it was just me, and instead had the beans and sauce over sausage. Specifically, the black pepper sausage from Big Fork, a local company that makes sausage right here in my neighborhood. It’s delicious. Highly recommend. Here’s the link for more info. (http://www.bigforkbrands.com/) Okay. Now off to meditate, try to get as calm as possible before more rehearsal and then a performance. Eeeeek!!!

dreamsofmyfava

I made this last night for a very small dinner party with two trusted friends. cranberry beans with tomato fennel sauce over parmesan polentaA safe environment for a gamble, in case it didn’t turn out. The photo is terrible because we didn’t eat until late, after talking for two hours while drinking wine, so the photo was an act of duty, without regard to aesthetics. But omg — all I can really say is yum. Which is what I said at least three times while eating. Because I was trying to restrain myself. It is, after all, somewhat unseemly to freak out over the goodness of your own cooking.

To balance things out a bit, my praise was not entirely self-directed. Unfortunately, this is not an original recipe. I got it from theKitchn, who in turn took it from Rancho Gordo. Here’s the link. (http://bit.ly/17RQGQ4) And here’s the recipe, which I followed almost slavishly. My only departures were…

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White bean, gluten-free, vegan pancakes

This morning, near the end of a three-hour Kundalini class, when I was meant to be deep in meditation, I started laughing out loud, realizing that the title of this post, a literal description of today’s breakfast, would fit perfectly into the sketch show I’ve been working white bean vegan gluten free pancakeson for the past several months.  (And which is finally almost finished!!!) So many health-food buzzwords crammed into a single recipe title, and all of them modifying the ultimate empty calorie breakfast food, pancakes. This recipe sounds like it would taste awful. So much so that it’s hilarious. And yeah. This may be the first time ever that I’m posting a recipe for which the photograph makes the food look better than it was in real life. But while I admit that these weren’t the best pancakes I’ve ever tasted, they were far from the worst.  In fact, they’re pretty good so long as you cover them with enough fresh fruit to ensure that each bite includes at least equal parts fruit and pancake. And maple syrup.

The truth is that I’d probably appreciate these much more if I did not have the luxury of a digestive system that tolerates gluten just fine, or if I was actually vegan. Because while the end result of this experiment is not light or fluffy, and a hint of beany flavor comes through if you don’t get enough fruit and syrup in each bite, they are pancakes. And who doesn’t love pancakes? Well, okay, I don’t. They just don’t compare to waffles, which I love without condition. But when I saw Kathy Hester’s beany pancake recipes, I knew I had to give them a try. (http://bit.ly/JP2DjX) Especially because I’ve had gluten-free pancakes in the back of my mind for almost a year now, since I saw this recipe for flax coconut pancakes in Food and Wine. (http://bit.ly/1dfRbcJ) So I decided to combine the two recipes, coming up with my own version. Which I ate this morning, a couple of hours before yoga.  The end result may not have been the very best pancakes I’ve ever tasted, but, as I said at the start, they were tasty enough. Especially given the title.

Note that the following recipe calls for several different types of flour, all of which I happened to have on hand. Because a while back I became interested in gluten free baking, trying to pack more nutrition into the baked-good punch. If you aren’t so stocked, however, please just use whole wheat pastry flour or even regular white flour. Although the nutritional value will decrease, I’m guessing the texture will improve. And it will definitely be less expensive and troublesome than going out and buying all these fancy flours. Now, here’s the recipe.

2/3 c. brown rice flour
3 T. potato starch
3 T. tapioca starch
3 T. coconut flour
2 t. baking powder
1/4 t. salt
1-1/2 c. cooked (or canned) white beans, drained and rinsed
1-1/2 c. unsweetened almond (or other nondairy) milk
1/2 c. rolled oats (make sure they’re marked gluten-free if gluten is an issue)
2 T. olive or coconut oil, plus more for the pan
2 T. maple syrup, plus more for serving
1 T. ground flax seed mixed with 2 T. warm water
1 t. vanilla extract

1. Whisk the dry ingredients together in a medium sized bowl.

2. Using a food processor or immersion blender, puree the beans, milk., oats, oil, syrup, flax seed mixture, and vanilla together until smooth.

3. Stir the pureed bean mixture into the dry ingredients until thoroughly combined.

4. Heat a skillet (I always use cast iron, because that’s what I have, but use what you like) over medium heat. For each pancake, scoop about 3 T. of batter into the skillet, making sure to leave space around each pancake. Cook the pancakes for 3-5 minutes on each side. Serve with fresh fruit and maple syrup. This makes a lot but they should freeze well. Enjoy!

22 days of gratitude

This post has nothing to do with beans. Or cooking. I’ve been missing my blog, and had planned to write about black bean brownies today. Because I made some a couple of days ago, for my birthday. Not because I wanted them, but because I wanted to have something to blog about. But they didn’t turn out well and, when I tried to write a post, that didn’t turn out well either. So, after a long walk, on which I spent some time swinging and a little more time sitting (actually standing) with this Buddha headBuddha head, I decided to abandon that idea and go with this. I will write about black bean brownies sometime soon, though, when I have time to do a proper job. I think it’s a worthwhile pursuit. Just not workable for this week.

Instead, I decided to post about my gratitude project, which consisted of what was meant to be 44 Facebook posts ( either lost or failed to post one) for the 22 days up to and including my birthday, which was this past Friday. 10/4, good buddy. So. Here is the completely unedited list. I think it will speak for itself. But I will say that the execution of this idea was both more difficult and far more rewarding than I imagined when I dreamt it up. The difficulty was mostly in feeling so exposed, day and day after day. Because oftentimes what I was grateful for wasn’t something I would ordinarily post. Then I would go into struggle mode, trying to stay true to myself while also guarding (or trying to create) healthy boundaries. Also, during the course of this time I finally got officially divorced. That is a good thing, yet complicated. It added an element of difficulty to this project. But, overall, the good far outweighed the bad, at least from my end. I hope you like it. Here’s the list.

September 13, 2013

22 days from now I will be 44. Which, while I know absolutely nothing about and am highly skeptical of numerology, seems somehow significant, if only because of the lovely mathematical symmetry. And because I really like the number 11. So. To mark this day, and the days between now and 10/4, I’m going to celebrate by creating a daily ritual of posting two things for which I’m grateful, one upon waking, the other just before sleep. This morning I woke up filled with gratitude for this time alone, and the space I’ve been given to start trying to figure out, on my own, how I want to be in the world.

Embarrassment of riches in the gratitude department right now. Harmonizing with Joan Jett and the Blackhearts for Crimson and Clover? Gwar? The letter a friend sent that cut through my emotional fortress and went straight into a part of my heart that I didn’t even know was still there? Yes, I am grateful for all of those things. But the thing I’m most grateful for right now is that I have all of my teeth. Many people don’t. And they’re super useful for things like eating delicious sausages. Which I did tonight, at Riot Fest. So thanks, parents, for all the excellent dental care, and to the universe for letting me stay lucky thus far.

Grateful to be able to pet my (or any other) cat for as long as I like without suffering a rash, or an athsma attack, or any other allergic reaction.

Tonight’s gratitude is for the magic friend circle that happened today with Shaune, Michelle, Dana, Johnny, Dawn, Ken, and Connie. And also for affirmation that my high school obsession with the Violent Femmes was not misplaced.

3/22, am: grateful for all the second chances.

3/22, pm: foot massage. grateful doesn’t quite cut it.

4/22, am: grateful for waking up to the sound of house guests, laughing and rehashing perfect weekend, which included the Replacements.

4/22, pm: grateful that I did not have to use a port-o-poddy today.

5/22, am: grateful for this opportunity to start my days out by considering subjects of gratitude. Totally meta.

5/22 pm: grateful for the sound of wind in trees, and that I can still hear it.

6/22, am: grateful to wake up with a different perspective.

6/22, pm: grateful that the latch on my back door is fixed. And a trifle embarrassed that I hadn’t yet gotten around to doing it myself.

7/22, am: grateful for choices.

7/22, pm: grateful for my new air popper, popcorn, butter, maple syrup, and salt. Also that I was not born as a factory farmed chicken.

8/22, am: grateful for this moment, in which my cat is sleeping next to me with his paw stretched out, touching my leg, and I have just begun the most perfect cup of coffee.

8/22, pm: grateful to be letting go, and for how things always work out.

9/22, am: grateful for sunlight refracting off the glass blocks in my living room and the way in which it evokes mornings at the beach on St. George Island. And today is International Day of Peace, which is super cool. Maybe people can stop killing each other for a little while.

9/22, pm: grateful, generally. Today was pretty awesome.

10/22, am: grateful for the ability to change.

10/22, pm: grateful to be on the bus with Good Lookin’ Bill, who sounds exactly like Screamin’ Jays Hawkins.

11/22, am: grateful to be able to take so very things for granted.

11/22, pm: grateful that my sense of humor is so very, very dark. It comes in handy when reading articles like this one.

Pull quote: “He isn’t hopeful humans will rise to the challenge and save themselves. ‘Everything is worse and we’re still doing the same things,’ he says.
‘Because ecosystems are so resilient, they don’t exact immediate punishment on the stupid.'” (http://www.oceansidestar.com/news/web-of-life-unravelling-wildlife-biologist-says-1.605499)

12/22, am: grateful, despite everything, including my sometimes paralyzing fear about what’s happening to the environment, that the planet will run out of water, and horror at the myriad ways in which humans continue to be awful to one another, to have been born into this time. Because it also feels full of love and amazing opportunities for connection, growth. Today I’m going to focus on that.

12/22, pm: grateful for clear answers when they come.

13/22, am: grateful that my numbers have passed the stage of looking like a date. Also, that the longer this project continues, and the deeper I have to reach to figure out what I’m grateful for, the more rewarding it becomes. At least for me.

13/22, pm: grateful that I’m almost finished with monster brief, and that it includes a version of the argument I fought for.

14/22, am: grateful for breath and stillness, and the way in which they are pathways to change.

14/22, pm: grateful for the smell of rosemary and for kitchen dancing by myself.

15/22, am: grateful there’s a yoga class with Anne Paulson at 6:30, because it makes this otherwise completely sucky insomnia seem like a gift.

15/22, pm: grateful for my brain’s ability to summon the taste, sound, smell, sight, and feel of the Gulf of Mexico, right now, there.

16/22, am: grateful to wake up believing that things will work out as they should.

16/22, pm: tonight I’m generally grateful for Chicago’s theater scene, and specifically for getting to see Beyond Therapy, which was great. Disconcerting at times, but great.

17/22, am: grateful to have found such a good apartment. I like it here.

17/22, pm: [completely tired of the word] grateful for this day, which started with more than 2 hours of yoga to celebrate the birthday of one of my teachers. That was the high. But there was also a perfect blue sky, and San Francisco-style crispness to the air. That was good. And a long walk through the urban utopia that is Sauganash, where apples are literally falling to the sidewalk from a tree planted along the side of the road. The low point, which was also great in its intense weirdness, was coming across a giant repository for garbage somewhere near Hubbard and Damen. There literally was a pile of rotting waste sitting in a huge warehouse, fouling the perfect air so intensely that I had to hold my hand over my nose. Hence no photo.

18/22, am: thankful for the way this project is wearing a new groove into my brain, so that more and more I think about what I have, what is good, rather than focusing on the lack.

gratitude project, day 18 of 22, pm: pizza delivery, pajamas (or close equivalent), and television. Also I’m pretty sure I finally nailed the argument I’ve been struggling with for far too long. Which means I may escape probation at work.

gratitude project, day 19 of 22, am: When I thought about what I wanted to post this morning, the first thing that came up was photographs. Photographs both as art and as a means to feel connected to people and places and animals are and always have been deeply meaningful for me. My life without photos would be much smaller. Because of my incredible fortune, there were several possible posts for this morning. I decided on this one when I saw the attached story. While the idea of solitary confinement fills me with despair, projects such as this one remind me of the good. (http://america.aljazeera.com/articles/2013/9/30/photo-requests-fromsolitary.html)

gratitude project, day 19 of 22, pm: so lucky in my friends. Thank you for being there for me, today and always.

day 20 of 22, pm: I am full of gratitude for the flexibility of my work schedule, which meant that without any advance planning or notice to anyone I was able to leave early today. Which in turn meant that I was able to spend hours outside on what was quite possibly the most perfectly beautiful day ever. Good.

day 21 of 22, am: grateful for my cat’s round teddy bear eyes, loud purr, and boundless, unconditional love. (I could do without his nibbling and awful breath, but, well, trying to focus on the positive.)

day 21 of 22, pm: incredibly grateful that there’s only one more day to go until I can stop doing this.

22/22, am: grateful for the dream I woke from this morning. My bedroom was the same except it had been built to accommodate a very large tree. So there was this one branch that went through the whole top of the room, like a giant elbow. And it was an apple tree. With fruit. I opened my eyes after sleep, looked up, and saw several perfectly ripe apples. Because it was a dream, one magically appeared in my hand. I ate the fruit.

22/22, pm: grateful for music. It makes life better. And love, which makes life possible. Thank you all for sending me so much of it today. I am seriously lucky.

black bean tacos w/ sauteed kale, chevre, and tomatillo salsa

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about space. For example, so far my favorite of the sketches I’ve written with my comedy ensemble is almost entirely silent. This despite countless hours of writing and rewriting and working on other, more densely worded pieces. The space of silence. And I’m pretty sure the reason my garden isn’t as productive as it should be is because I filled every single square. The plants don’t have enough space to reach their full potential.

Of course, as seems to be the norm of my life lately, the place where the concept of space has been most profound is yoga. One of my teachers has also been fixated on the concept lately. I don’t know if I got it from her or she got it from me or if we both came to it separately in the way that ideas float around the universe and land on people who are in the same place. But it doesn’t matter. What matters is this realization that growth requires space. I’m slowly learning that the insistent pushing and tight control I’ve always thought was necessary actually inhibits growth. Instead, it happens when I stop trying so hard, when I let go. Which does not come naturally, at least not at this point in my life.

Yesterday I finally unpacked the last of the boxes left over from my move, including the ones marked “random,” which I’d left so long because I just couldn’t deal. Up til now my tendency has been to hold on. Not obsessively. I am no hoarder. But I find it difficult to let go, both physically and emotionally. So, yesterday, as I faced the boxes full of journals and photos and letters and a million tiny fragments of who I used to be and lives I used to have, I decided to practice this new concept of space by getting rid of everything.

Of course, because I’m me, that didn’t happen. I had to go through it all first to make sure there was nothing essential. Which meant that my unpacking of these few boxes wound up being an all-day trip. I traveled through time, looking at snapshots and reading journals and letters that spanned decades.  I succeeded in letting go of some things, but I kept a lot. And by the time I finished putting everything away I was spent, definitely not up to cooking. Yet I needed real food, something nourishing. Not cheese and crackers or chips and dip.

My original plan for the day was to make frittata. With cauliflower and Swiss chard, something that I eat very, very happily every couple of weeks. Because It’s super easy and delicious. But, when the dinner bell rang, I had no taste for eggs. And no desire to cook. Although I had beans in the fridge, that was not what I wanted. Because, as much as I love them, one can only eat so many beans in a week. It’s true that I haven’t written much lately, which could be interpreted to mean that I have not been cooking and eating beans. But my silence means only that I have not cooked or eaten beans worthy of writing about.

So it was with great reluctance that I pulled out some beans. Black ones. Then, behind the black beans, I found a small container of leftover kale that I’d sauteed a couple of days before and forgotten. In a flash of inspiration I remembered that on a whim the day before I’d picked up chevre. And suddenly, just like that, I was totally excited about dinner. In the space of letting go of my plan, I made up something new. Which turned out perfectly.

black bean taco w kale, goat cheese, and tomatillo salsaThe amounts listed below make a single serving. Multiply as needed.

1/2 cup cooked, drained black beans (canned are fine)
1/2 cup sauteed kale
1 clove garlic, thinly sliced
chevre
2 flour tortillas
1 T. grapeseed oil
salt to taste

1. Heat a well-seasoned cast-iron skillet over medium-high heat. (If you don’t have a well-seasoned cast iron skillet, rub a tiny bit of oil on the skillet before you heat it up) Warm the tortillas, turning, until lightly browned. Roll the tortillas together, put them on a plate, and cover with a kitchen towel or another plate so they’ll stay warm.

2. Add the greens to the skillet for a few minutes, until they’re hot. Put the greens aside and wipe out the skillet.

3. Return the skillet to the heat and add the grapeseed oil and a couple of tablespoons of water. Let it heat for another minute, then add the garlic. Saute for 3-5 minutes, until the garlic is very soft and the liquid has evaporated. Add more water if necessary. When the garlic is soft, add the black beans. Use the back of a wooden spoon to mash some of the beans. Stir, adding a bit of water to keep the beans from drying out, until heated through, another 3-5 minutes.

To assemble the tacos, divide the black beans between the two tortillas. Add the greens. Then top with goat cheese and tomatillo salsa. You could certainly make your own salsa, and perhaps one day I will post a recipe. But this time, being lazy, I used a jarred version. Frontera. It was good.

Many bean soup with a heap of kale

heap of kale 2Traditionally, summer is not the height of soup season. But I love soup. Plus I had an emergency situation. A friend invited me to raid her garden while she was out of town. So I came home with what seemed like a modest amount of kale.  At least, it seemed like a modest amount in comparison to what I left untouched. She has a lot of kale. So, when I was next to the plants, the single bagful seemed like maybe enough for a couple of salads. When I got home, however, my scale slid back to reality. The bag full of kale I’d picked, thinking I was being so moderate, was probably the equivalent of 5 or 6 bundles from the grocery store. And I’m one person. What was I going to do with it all?

Suddenly I was overwhelmed.  It was Friday evening and I was home relatively early, looking forward to a rare night at home. I still had enchiladas in the fridge and didn’t feel like cooking. And yet. I had picked the kale. I had a responsibility to eat it. But my next seven days loomed as a series of full days followed by full nights, with no time to cook. Whatever I was going to do, I had to do it now. I settled on kale chips.

Exhausted, but determined, I dutifully washed the dirt off, removed a couple of slugs, and stripped the leaves from the stems. So far, so good. Then, suddenly, I stopped. What was I doing? I was not having a good time. I didn’t want kale chips. And not only that, but I didn’t want to turn on the oven. It was going to make the perfectly temperate kitchen hot. Plus I didn’t want to cook. I didn’t want to do anything. What did I want?

As I stood in the kitchen, surrounded by kale, it hit me. I’m a single person with no children or anyone at all relying on me. Sometimes it is heartbreakingly lonely. I’m often terrified by the future, so different from what I expected, what I used to have. There’s so much loss. But there’s also an amazing freedom in this life I’m building for myself. I have no one to please except myself. Which means, if I’m so inclined on a Friday evening at home, I am free to do nothing. I just forgot for a minute. Which is pretty funny given the amount of time I spend doing yoga, trying to breathe and focus on being present. I love yoga. It makes me happy. But all that yoga is meaningless if my happiness is limited to the time I spend on the mat.

Bemused, I forced myself to put the washed, stripped kale away, stuffing it all into a gallon-sized ziplock bag, feeling good about taming the mass into such a neat package. Then I retreated from the world for the next few hours. I laid on the couch, went through Netflix, and wound up watching the very funny romantic comedy, Kissing Jessica Stein. Purged by laughter, I went to sleep at peace.

The next morning I woke up super early. I planned to go to yoga before putting in a full day at the office. So I went to grab some food from the fridge, for lunch. And I noticed that the kale looked a little too green, wetter than it should be. In my eagerness to package it up the night before, I’d not thought about longevity. It was already starting to decompose. If I didn’t do something, all the kale would be wasted. I checked the clock. I had a half hour. That was enough time to throw something in the slow cooker. But what? I looked up kale in Not Your Mother’s Slowcooker Cookbook (http://www.amazon.com/dp/1558322450) and found a recipe for many bean soup with kale. I didn’t have the prepackaged soup mix. But I had something better: an entire cabinet full of beans. Problem solved! And so it was.

The downside was that of course it took more than a half hour. Which made me late for yoga. Late enough that although I went to the studio, I couldn’t force myself to interrupt the class by walking in so late. But it all worked out. Just not the way I’d planned. A lesson that maybe I’ll learn one of these days. Maybe. For now, here’s the recipe for the soup. It turned out well. many bean kale soup

2-4 bunches of kale, curly or lacinato 1/4 c. olive oil (use less if you like)
1 onion, diced
2 T. tomato paste
1 c. white beans
1/2 c. brown lentils
1/2 c. Scarlet Runner beans 1 1″ piece Kombu, broken into pieces
4 c. chicken broth
4 c. water

1.  Wash, destem, and slice the kale thinly.

2. Heat the olive oil in a medium cast-iron (or other) skillet over medium-high heat. When it’s hot, add the onion. Saute for 5 minutes or so, until the onion is browning, then add the tomato paste. Saute for another 2-3 minutes, stirring, then turn off the heat.

3. Pick out any discolored or broken beans, rinse, and place in the slow cooker insert.  Nestle the kombu pieces down in the beans then add the kale. It will seem like a lot, possibly coming up out of the slow cooker. Scrape the warm onion mixture over the top of the kale and use tongs to gently mix the onion into the top of the kale. The heat should help it shrink down a little. Cover with the chicken broth and water, and, using the tongs (or a big spoon), mix things around a bit so the kale is coated with the cooking liquid and beans are under liquid. Cover and cook on low for 10+ hours.

The final dish is pretty kale intensive, so that the broth tastes almost like pot liquor from collard greens. I think it’s delicious. But a little goes a long way. Happily, it’s pretty filling…