We are snow wimps here in Jordan--light snow flurries were grounds for locals schools to declare a Snow Day. But, since this will likely be one of our coldest days of the year, it is the perfect time to share this new recipe, compliments of my friend, Susan, via another friend, Robyn (thanks!). Susan served it to us last week and we immediately requested the recipe.
Mexican Hot Chocolate
3 cups milk 1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa 1/4 cup sugar 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon 1/8 teaspoon cloves 1/8 teaspoon salt 1 teaspoon instant coffee 1 teaspoon vanilla
Over low heat, whisk all the ingredients into the milk. My kids like this served with a squirt of whipped cream--of course!
"Language is the means by which our rationality and our relationality are enabled simultaneously." Ken Myers, creator and host of Mars Hill Audio Journal, captured my attention and inspired my imagination when he made this statement while introducing his conversation with professor, poet, and author, Marilyn Chandler McEntyre. I love Meyers' introductions and often find them as enlightening and thought stimulating as the conversations themselves, however in these case his proposition was but a foreshadowing of a thought provoking dialogue about to begin.
With four teenagers at home (for one more day) we had recently been discussing the twists and turns our use of language has taken over the years, individually, communally, and culturally. (Hmm, I wonder who instigated these discussions...) Thus, the observations made by Meyers and McEntyre served to confirm some of my own reflections and to bring some of my intuitions into the realm of ideas byfurnishing them with words.
I quickly ordered McEntyre's new book and after reading one chapter decided that she is an author of whom I would like to read more~she's also written three books of poetry on the art of Vermeer, Rembrandt, and Van Gough and I enjoyed perusing her website.
I haven't yet finished this book, so this isn't a proper book review, but rather an ejaculation of enthusiasm for McEntyre's ideas and the gracious and loving way in which she expresses them. The first chapter, Why Worry about Words, elicited copious underlining:
She effectively employs an environmental metaphor in her discussion of language:
"Like any other life-sustaining resource, language can be depleted, polluted, contaminated, eroded, and filled with artificial stimulates. Like any other resource, it needs the protection of those who recognize its value and commit themselves to good stewardship."
"Caring for language is a moral issue. Caring for one another is not entirely separable from caring for words."
"As unable words are lost, experience becomes cruder and less communicable. And with the loss of subtlety, clarity, and reliability of language, we become more vulnerable to crude exercises of power."
On Conversation: "to converse was to foster community, to commune with, to dwell in a place with others. Conversation was understood to be a life-sustaining practice, a blessing ,and a craft to be cultivated for the common good."
And all this from just the first six pages.
One final quote of a quote, and perhaps this is only back-patting--I always find it encouraging to enunciate a thought or idea only to read it elsewhere in more elegant language by someone much smarter than myself. Dear husband and I were discussing the the relationship between morality and language and I proposed that a deterioration of language portended a deterioration of the understanding of truth, and ultimately, morality: "So our language goes, so go we." Dear husband countered that the opposite was true. Soon after I read this claim by George Orwell, quoted by McEntyre:
"[The English Language] becomes ugly and inaccurate because our thoughts are foolish, but the slovenliness of our language makes it easier for us to have foolish thoughts. The point is that the process is reversible."
One of the lasting memories I have from my visit to my brother and his family who live in lovely Tuscan village overlooking Florence, is the food. That inspirational memory is due in large part to the culinary proficiency of my sister-in-law, Shandra. I was in awe of what she could whip up in her typically small European kitchen--if I remember correctly you can't open the dishwasher and the refrigerator at the same time--or something like that!
Shandra says that cooking traditional Italian food has for her been a window into the culture and she once shared a story with me which illustrated the the care and concern Italians show for the quality of their food: she was summoned to the primary school which her boys attended for a very important parents' meeting. The topic under discussion and even debate: the quality of the pasta the children were receiving for school lunch.
I've requested recipes from my sister-in-law in the past so I was very pleased when she began posting her kitchen notes on Facebook, and then her recipes at Diario della Cucina. Last week, thanks to Shandra's risotto tutorial, I made my first risotto, Risotto alla Zucca (Pumpkin). I had long wanted to try making risotto, but had heard that it was a fussy dish, easily ruined. Shandra's About Risotto post primed the pump and and when she posted her Pumpkin Risotto recipe, I went shopping.
With the cost of imported foods in Jordan, risotto will not become everyday fare, but it was a delicious treat. Per Shandra's instructions, I made sure to release all my stress before begining so that it wouldn't be absorbed by the risotto. (I think it's like pie crusts sensing hesitancy and fear.) I even made Artist Son stop practicing his drums ("The risotto absorbs the stress? What??) and turned on some YoYo Ma for stirring to.
Risotto alla Zucca (served in a bowl I purchased with the help of my sis-in-law in a Florentine market)
Making the risotto was not difficult and the results were delicious. My children had never before eaten risotto but they all liked it, especially my Carbo Kid (Active Son) and Tayta; "This is better than mac and cheese!" I made my brodo, or chicken stock, to be used in making the risotto, early in the day and then I roasted the already boiled chicken in the oven to serve with the risotto, first topping it with an impromptu tomato-leftover-handful-of-fresh-basil-clove-of-garlic sauce I made in the blender. I also drizzled the chicken with olive oil and sprinkled it with a little sea salt.
nota bene: quantites for butter and parmesan cheese: 3 T butter and 1 cup freshly grated parmesan cheese (though I used Grand Padano as it is more readily available to me).
January 2010 is the Month of Four Teenagers: Tayta turned 13 on Christmas Eve, and Oldest Daughter will celebrate her 20th birthday at the end of the week; sorta wish I could freeze this moment in time, at least for a few more weeks.
Tayta, my youngest child, turned 13 on Christmas Eve (I'm back blogged from December) and for one blessed month I have four teenagers at home (Oldest daughter, home for her January term will be 20 at the end of this month). With a perception of others' needs beyond her years, Tayta is the second mother in our family; God has blessed us, her family, and many more besides with her gracious heart of caring service.
Small children and babies delight her to no end and she is a favorite babysitter to many of her little friends.
Tayta and Friends
This summer, when she wasn't nurturing children she delighted in helping our garden cat raise five kittens...
or creating fantastically yummy deserts for us.
Tayta's Pink Peppermint and Chocolate Pie
Tayta's empathetic nature shone through when I recently lost my voice: I could only whisper. The older kids chuckled and snickered when I whispered at them but Tayta, she whispered back. We had conducted half a conversation when I whispered to Tatya that she didn't have to whisper back to me. Looking surprised and smiling she replied, "I didn't know I was whispering."
What a beautiful young woman you are becoming Tayta, and may the coming year be one in which you continue to grow in the beauty and grace of God.
Where shall we see a better daughter, or kinder sister, or a truer friend? ~Jane Austen
In the modern world of education it may be counter-intuitive that submission to a fixed literary structure could encourage elegant, creative writing, but writing by this method of imitation was, in fact, the process by which masters such as Shakespeare, Chaucer, and Milton learned to write. When I read The Writer's Workshop, by Gregory Roper, I knew that I wanted to use this book with my two high-school boys; writing was certainly not their favorite activity and I was looking for a way to make the learning process pleasant and profitable for all of us.
Shortly after I decided to use Roper's book, Cindy Marsch of Writing Assessment Services began offering an Apprentice Workshop, using this very book. Active Son was enrolled post haste and Artist Son just completed Part I and is heading into Part II. The combination of this book and Cindy's tutorial services has been the perfect mix of theory, prompts, and helpful feedback for both sons to begin discovering their own writing voices by imitating the voices of others.
Below is short essay on creativty written by Artist Son, and published on Cindy's writing blog. The assignment which prompted this essay was from the chapter, "Voices of Definition", and asks the student to take a definition developed in a previous assignment and express it in the voice of Sojourner Truth, former slave and abolitionist, in her speech,"And Ain't I a Woman?"
It is certain that in today’s fallen world creativity is greatly admired. It is generally celebrated in the artwork of modern artists who grab any passing thought and put it on canvas. They are considered “creative” for their splashes of paint and bold strokes of the brush which politely skip over meaning and evoke emotional responses from the viewers. But is that the essence of creativity?
Some say that creativity is free, easy, and merry; that it soars through the clear skies with nothing to clasp it and bring it down. They say that it touches ideas and then dances on with as much reliability as the wind. I’ve tried to integrate these ideas into my own artwork. I’ve tried to chase after my own fantasies. I’ve tried to abandon reality completely. I’ve tried to become enveloped with giddy illusions. I expected a change in my works and assuredly it did come, but I find no real beauty in them now. All I find is confused ideas, so unclear and distant that they are not even distinguishable from one another. And am I not creative?
Others say that creativity is “getting in touch” with one’s inner self, and unleashing it. We all possess a fantastically creative side but it is found within the deep recesses of one's being. I have searched. Nearly every possible aspect of my soul have I brought into the light and examined. When confronted with a blank piece of paper I have closed my eyes and sat in the quiet, seeing, searching, probing within. I did not find it. And am I not creative?
of us just modestly, quietly, conservatively creative? ;-
Still others say creativity encompasses not only the good, but also the evil, the unproductive and oft destructive. They view dark and morbid intent as a subject of creativity, a thing to dwell in and be moved by. The good, the right, the true; they are forsaken for the pursuit of the wicked, the disparaging, and even the indolent. I also have dipped my fingers in that foul water to test it. What I felt was not the cool refreshing creativity as they called it, but a vile mere that tried to suck me in. I withdrew my hand. And am I not creative?
Even after surfing the wave of fantasies and dreams, and “getting in touch” with my inner self, and languidly waiting for creativity to show up at my door, I found it eluded me. So then, what is creativity and where does it hide? But first: why does creativity exist at all?
Is not all our creativity a reflection of God’s creation which he made to be perfectly ordered, and perfectly good? Did not God give us our creativity? True creativity is found in Christ, the original creator, not in any other. Because our inconsequential creative efforts exist only as reflections of Christ’s perfect creativity, we can be creative only if we rightly create as he did: in truth, in beauty, and in goodness.
and their seemingly "too good to be true" offer. But it is true and two weeks after placing my order I have received both books, shipping free. Happy day! And, happy reading.
The fish I prepared using this recipe from Cooking Light, and found online at myrecipes.com was so delicious, it would be worth preserving lemons to make this dish and this dish alone.
Cooking light has called the recipe Fish Tagine with Lemons and Tomatoes, probably because of the dish's traditional Moroccan flavors, however it isn't cooked in a traditional clay pot, or tagine, nor is is a slow-cooked stew.
I've reproduced the recipe below; I followed this recipe almost exactly with the following exceptions:
~I used more lemon (1/2 a preserved lemon) . ~I used regular paprika. ~I used blacks which tasted somewhat like Kalamata olives. ~I used catfish fillets. I bought these on accident but was very pleased with their consistency and flavor; no fishy taste at all.
Note:this recipe requires a 30 minute marinating time.
Yield: 4 servings (serving size: 6 ounces fish, 3/4 cup vegetable mixture, and about 1 tablespoon sauce)
Ingredients:
Cooking spray
2 tablespoons finely chopped whole lemon
1 tablespoon water
1 tablespoon olive oil, divided
1 teaspoon sugar
1/8 teaspoon saffron threads, crushed
3 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
3 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon Hungarian sweet paprika
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
12 pitted green olives, thinly sliced
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 1/2 pounds mahimahi (or another firm white fish)
Heat a small nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Coat pan with cooking spray. Add lemon, 1 tablespoon water, 1/2 teaspoon oil, and sugar; cook 3 minutes or until water evaporates and mixture just begins to brown, stirring frequently. Set aside.
Place remaining 2 1/2 teaspoons oil in a small microwave-safe bowl, and microwave at high for 10 seconds at a time just until oil is heated. Stir in saffron; let stand 10 minutes.
Combine lemon mixture, saffron mixture, chopped parsley, and next 7 ingredients (through garlic) in a large zip-top plastic bag. Add fish to bag, and seal. Marinate in refrigerator 30 minutes, turning occasionally.
Preheat oven to 400°.
Layer 1 cup onion slices and 2 cups tomato on the bottom of a 13 x 9-inch baking dish coated with cooking spray. Remove fish from bag, reserving marinade. Top tomato with fish; pour remaining marinade from bag over fish. Cover with remaining 2 cups tomato and remaining 1 cup onion. Cover with foil. Bake at 400° for 40 minutes or until fish flakes easily when tested with a fork or until desired degree of doneness. Remove from oven.
Transfer fish and vegetables to a serving platter. Drizzle remaining liquid over fish. Garnish with cilantro leaves, if desired. Serve immediately.
I've served this with rice and with couscous. This makes a lovely company meal. Delicious! (note the "outstanding" rating on myrecipes.com)
...to take a break from the routine of daily life, emerge from our piles of books and everyday meals, and celebrate the advent of our Savior, Jesus Christ, and the life that he gives us. Though we began our advent celebration four weeks before Christmas by reading, singing, meditating, and discussing the Promise fulfilled, we didn't break for our physical preparation and celebration until a week before Christmas.
Tayta digging out the wall
Our first day of Christmas break, a day which should have found me baking and wrapping presents, I declared a field trip to the nearby Jordan Valley; I was unable to pass up the amazing opportunity to join real archaeologists as they excavated the largest Middle Bronze Age fortification discovered (five meters thick!) at a site they believe to be the Biblical Sodom. Eschewing the baking in favor of the dig turned out to be one of the best decisions I've made in a long time; this was a wonderful experience which I hope to write more about someday soon.
We nervously watched the US weather situation turn from bad to worse, grounding our beloved Oldest Daughter for three extra days and we rejoiced upon her return. So nice has it been to have her helping me in the kitchen or just sitting and debriefing her semester over a cup of coffee.
Tayta and Artist Son undertook their annual creative building project. My sole contribution was finding the rainbow Twizzlers at the supermarket.
2009 Rainbow Gingerbread House
We feasted on festive food,
and enjoyed the company of good friends whom we just don't see enough of during the year.
We laughed heartily as our grown-up sons (and friends) got down and shook it up.
We delighted in a traditional New Year's jaunt through one of Jordan's remaining pine forests
and, the first wildflower sighting of the new year.
The sublime Cyclamen persicum
And now our noses are back in the books, I am shunning sugar, and Active Son and I are striving to get those college applications and essays finished this weekend; and all that with a bad head cold. The celebration was grand while it lasted.
Thankfully, Emmanuel, God with us, is a reality we can celebrate all the year long.
...preserve them. Fresh lemon is one of my favorite cooking and baking ingredients so when I saw mention of preserved lemons in one of my Middle Eastern cookbooks I knew I needed to try preserving them myself. Preserved lemons are part of the Moroccan culinary tradition, which would technically make them North African rather than Middle Eastern, but their flavor is distinctly Mediterranean. Think lemon olives. After reviewing a few recipes I came up with the recipe below and it worked perfectly.
Preserved Lemons
10 lemons, thin skinned works best
1 1/2 cups rock salt (I use coarse sea salt)
1 litre boiling water
juice of one lemon
8 cardamom pods
a few pieces of cinnamon bark
about 12 peppercorns
2 red chilies
2 bay leaves
olive oil
-Soak the lemons in water for three days, changing the water daily.
- Make deep cuts in the lemons, dividing them into quarters but not separating them completely. You can see how I've cut my lemons (sort of) in the picture above.
-Pack the cut lemons generously with salt and arrange in a glass jar.
-Add the cardamon pods, chilies, and bay leaves. I sliced my red chilies and distributed them around the lemons. These are optional and depending on how large/small and hot your chilies are you may want to use more or less--or none at all. I found other recipes that didn't include cardamom so you could leave that out if you don't have access to it.
-Pour the boiling water, lemon juice, and any extra salt over the prepared lemons Top it off with a thin layer of olive oil. If one liter isn't enough water to cover your lemons, add enough to just cover. If you add much more, add more lemon juice too.
-The lemons will be ready to use after one month.
These are really very easy to make and add a deliciously intense lemon flavor to cooked dishes. I'll soon post our new-favorite-fish recipe which includes preserved lemons, so start a jar of these today. They look very pretty in the kitchen, besides.
I'm not sure how I, bibliophile, internet purchaser of books extraordinaire, and contriver of plans to get books to Jordan at a reasonable cost, missed this site and their incredible offer:
Free delivery worldwide on all our books
When a friend told me about this site yesterday I thought it couldn't be true, yet I rushed home, checked it out and placed my first order of two books. Even my husband, who sometimes cringes at the amount of books I've accumulated--on behalf of our family, of course--received this news with gladness as the amount of money we've spent on shipping books over the years could probably make a nice down payment on a little house--only a slight exaggeration.
The Book Depository has been in business since 2004 and stocks over two million titles--many of the books I searched for were available, and often at Amazon-comparable prices. And speaking of Amazon, I love, love, love their service and feel slightly guilty at even the thought of diverting my book buying business elsewhere but free delivery is a seriously good offer that I can't pass up when the next cheapest shipping option is $10 a pound--that, or trying to bum a ride for a few books with friends or even friends of friends who are traveling to Jordan.
Even before reading Oldest Daughter's plaintive and pitiable Facebook status yesterday morning-- "no inclement weather, please. i want to go home."--I had noticed a status trend developing over the past couple of weeks:
I can't wait to go home! One more final and I'm home 3 more days!
From Odysseus striving towards Ithaca, to the Israelites wandering in exile, to the throngs of college students flooding airports, man longs to return home. Or, like Abram and Aeneas, he searches to find home.
As I reflected on the meaning of home, my thoughts dancing back and forth between the physical and the metaphysical ideas of home, distinct yet intertwined, I considered that the meanings were inseparable . The hope of home is a theme woven throughout the Biblical narrative; it is also one of the sublime themes God writes on the hearts of all men, a theme that is woven into the narratives of our lives. Perhaps this is something of what the author of Ecclesiastes meant when he said that God has put eternity into the heart of man.
But, what is this hope of home, this longing for a place where we will find familiarity, completion, acceptance, rest? G.K. Chesterton says it beautifully in the last stanza of his poem The Christmas House:
To an open house in the eveningHome shall men come, To an older place than EdenAnd a taller town than Rome. To the end of the way of the wandering star, To the things that cannot be and that are, To the place where God was homeless And all men are at home.
In his book, Prodigal God, Tim Keller writes about home, "The houses we inhabit are only inns along the way."
Jesus is the homeland, the home, the rest. The Incarnation, God come into his created world makes it possible for us to come home.
Below is my recent modification of the Artisan Bread recipe and method I wrote about here. Since I've become comfortable with the original recipe I thought it time to do a little experimenting in an effort to produce a healthier loaf of bread. This is what I've come up with so far:
A Healthier Artisan Bread (following the method here)
3 T sea salt 3 T yeast 5 cups all-purpose flour 6 cups whole wheat flour 1 cup oats 1/2 cup wheat germ 1/2 cup cracked wheat 1/3 cup ground flax seed 1/4 cup millet 6 1/2-7 cups warm water
Simplicityis a key objective in our Christmas kitchen this yearand this recipe for mint fudge, from my dear friend, Linda, is helping us attain that goal while still enjoying some festive and celebratory treats.
~Mint Fudge~
250 g. semi sweet chocolate (1 bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips is 300 g. so we just used the whole bag) 2/3 can sweetened condensed milk 83 g. white chocolate (1/3 of the amount of semi-sweet chocolate) 1/3 can sweetened condensed milk 1 tsp. mint extract couple/few drops green food coloring
1. Prepare an 8x8" square pan by lining it with waxed paper.
2. Melt the semi-sweet chocolate in a double boiler (ours, makeshift, is a pyrex bowl resting in a saucepan, but not touching the bottom) and add 2/3 can sweetened condensed milk. Spread this mixture in the prepared pan. Refrigerate while you prepare the mint layer.
3. Melt the white chocolate and add the remaining 1/3 can sweetened condensed milk, mint extract, and food coloring. Spread this mixture over the cooled fudge layer and cool. When cool and firm, cut. Makes 36 pieces.
And if you are fortunate enough to have a baking daughter like Tayta, making this fudge is as simple as saying, "Please."
There fared a mother driven forth Out of an inn to roam; In the place where she was homeless All men are at home. The crazy stable close at hand, With shaking timber and shifting sand, Grew a stronger thing to abide and stand Than the square stones of Rome.
For men are homesick in their homes, And strangers under the sun, And they lay on their heads in a foreign land Whenever the day is done. Here we have battle and blazing eyes, And chance and honour and high surprise, But our homes are under miraculous skies Where the yule tale was begun.
A Child in a foul stable, Where the beasts feed and foam; Only where He was homeless Are you and I at home; We have hands that fashion and heads that know, But our hearts we lost - how long ago! In a place no chart nor ship can show Under the sky's dome.
This world is wild as an old wives' tale, And strange the plain things are, The earth is enough and the air is enough For our wonder and our war; But our rest is as far as the fire-drake swings And our peace is put in impossible things Where clashed and thundered unthinkable wings Round an incredible star.
To an open house in the evening Home shall men come, To an older place than Eden And a taller town than Rome. To the end of the way of the wandering star, To the things that cannot be and that are, To the place where God was homeless And all men are at home.
" Little Adele was half wild with delight when she saw me. Mrs. Fairfax received me with her usual plain friendliness. Leah smiled; and even Sophie bid me 'bon soir' with glee. This was very pleasant: there is no happiness like that of being loved by your fellow-creatures, and feeling that your presence is an addition to their comfort."
~Jane Eyre
Dear Oldest Daughter, how we look forward to your soon-to-be-with-us presence; it will certainly be an addition to our comfort.
It's been a full semester so far: two high school science classes, a junior high writing class, a high school Great Books class, and college applications and essays for Active Son; we were ready for a break. So, the day after hosting a Thanksgiving dinner for many friends we packed up the car and headed south to rest on the beach for a couple days.
It was still warm enough to do a little snorkeling (at least for the guys)
As our post-Thanksgiving pot of turkey soup simmers on the stove, I'm thinking that I should have posted this favorite recipe before Thanksgiving, giving anyone who doesn't already save their turkey carcass a heads up to do so; though you can make an equally delicious soup using chicken. So beloved is Turkey Carcass Soup-perhaps I should consider modifying the name- at our house, that everyone will willingly give up a round of turkey leftovers if they know that turkey will be used for soup.
This is the most used and best loved recipe from my Jane Broody Good Food Book, which I acquired in the first years of married life. My "adjusted" version:
Turkey Carcass Soup
~A good soup begins with a good stock~
Stock 1 large turkey carcass, broken into pieces (today I'm suing two smaller carcasses water to cover the carcass ( I use 35-40 cups, approximately) 4 onions coarsely chopped a few ribs of celery with leaves, if available 4 carrots, chopped 1 large turnip, chopped 5 cloves garlic salt (a put a couple of tablespoons in now but you can add more later when you make the soup.) 4 bay leaves a handful of fresh parsley (or some dry) 2 tsp dried thyme
Combine all the ingredients in a large pot, bring to a boil, and simmer it for 2 to 3 hours. When stock is ready, strain it--I use a mesh sieve. Remove any remaining turkey from the bones before discarding them.
Soup 1 cup minced onion 6 cloves minced garlic 1/3 cup butter 6 cups diced carrots 3 cups diced celery 3 cups finely chopped mushrooms 1/2 cup flour 36-42 cups stock 2 Tbsp sage 2 cups brown uncooked brown rice 6 cups diced turkey meat 1/2-2/3 cup chopped parsley salt and pepper to taste
(I use my food processor to chop/mince all the vegetables but the celery, which I chop by hand.)
1. In a large stockpot, saute the onion and garlic in butter until soft. 2. Add carrots, celery, and mushrooms; cook the vegetables, stirring them, 3 to 5 minutes longer. 3. Add the flour, and cook the mixture, stirring it, for another minute. 4. Add the stock, sage, and brown rice. Bring the soup to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer the soup for about an hour. 5. Add the turkey meat, salt and pepper, adjusting seasonings. I sometimes add a few shakes of hot pepper sauce instead of black pepper. 6. Sprinkle the soup with parsley just before serving.
As you can surmise from the quantities of the ingredients, this makes a very large pot of soup. You could halve or even quarter my recipe. Tonight we will enjoy this pot with friends and I will store some in the freezer for our traditional Christmas Eve supper. And, there may still be enough for another meal...
Last year I discovered the wonderful Christmas musical/album, Behold the Lamb of God, by Andrew Peterson (I'm pretty sure the hat tip for this discovery goes to Justin Taylor, whose blog provides me with more great resources and links than I could ever exhaust) and I have just begun listening to it again in preparation for the celebration of the advent of Christ. A gifted musician, Peterson is also a gifted theologian, who begins the Wonderful Story as it should begin: in the days of the patriarchs and prophets. He says:
What makes this bunch of songs unique is that I wanted to remind (or teach) the audience that the story of Christmas doesn’t begin with the birth of Jesus. Many people tend to forget or have never even learned that the entire Bible is about Jesus, not just the New Testament.
So the musical begins with Moses and the symbolic story of the Passover (Passover Us) and works its way through the kings and the prophets with their many prophecies about the coming Messiah (So Long, Moses) to the awful four hundred years of silence before God told Mary she’d be having a baby (Deliver Us). After the song called Matthew’s Begats, which lists the genealogy of Jesus, the story picks up in more familiar territory with Mary and Joseph and the actual birth (It Came To Pass, Labor of Love). The final song is called Behold, the Lamb of God, which ties together the Passover and the beauty and scope of the story.
You can listen to samples of the different tracks via the widget above and you can enjoy the third track, So Long Moses, in the YouTube video. And note, the widget links you to the recently released 10th Anniversary album which contains all the recorded tracks and all tracks, live.
***Edit*** You can sample the whole album, with lyricshere (HT Justin Taylor, of course)
Or is that humbly awesome? This post is dedicated to Active Son and all my senior-in-high-school friends who have labored or continue to labor over their college admission essays, seeking to distinguish themselves from the masses, while remaining winsomely humble--yet confident--in the process. No small feat for a 17 or 18 year old who is still in the process of discovering who they are. Below is a "college entrance essay" which made the email rounds back in the nineties. I enjoyed the authors satire so thoroughly that printed it off and have saved it for the past ten plus years. I dusted it off again a couple of weeks ago for Active Son, yet working on his essays, to enjoy.
It is now, of course, on the internet, with the information that while the author, Hugh Gallagher, was admitted to and graduated from NYU (1994), this was not his college entrance essay, but rather an essay he submitted to a writing contest in 1990. It won first prize in the humor category. And, the author is now a free-lance writer--no surprises there.
I am a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls and crushing ice. I have been known to remodel train stations on my lunch breaks, making them more efficient in the area of heat retention. I translate ethnic slurs for Cuban refugees, I write award-winning operas, I manage time efficiently.
Occasionally, I tread water for three days in a row. I woo women with my sensuous and godlike trombone playing, I can pilot bicycles up severe inclines with unflagging speed, and I cook Thirty-Minute Brownies in twenty minutes. I am an expert in stucco, a veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru.
Using only a hoe and a large glass of water, I once single-handedly defended a small village in the Amazon Basin from a horde of ferocious army ants. I play bluegrass cello, I was scouted by the Mets, I am the subject of numerous documentaries. When I'm bored, I build large suspension bridges in my yard. I enjoy urban hang gliding. On Wednesdays, after school, I repair electrical appliances free of charge.
I am an abstract artist, a concrete analyst, and a ruthless bookie. Critics worldwide swoon over my original line of corduroy evening wear. I don't perspire. I am a private citizen, yet I receive fan mail. I have been caller number nine and have won the weekend passes. Last summer I toured New Jersey with a traveling centrifugal-force demonstration. I bat 400.
My deft floral arrangements have earned me fame in international botany circles. Children trust me. I can hurl tennis rackets at small moving objects with deadly accuracy. I once read Paradise Lost, Moby Dick, and David Copperfield in one day and still had time to refurbish an entire dining room that evening. I know the exact location of every food item in the supermarket. I have performed several covert operations with the CIA.
I sleep once a week; when I do sleep, I sleep in a chair. While on vacation in Canada, I successfully negotiated with a group of terrorists who had seized a small bakery. I balance, I weave, I dodge, I frolic, and my bills are all paid.
On weekends, to let off steam, I participate in full-contact origami. Years ago I discovered the meaning of life but forgot to write it down. I have made extraordinary four course meals using only a mouli and a toaster oven. I breed prize-winning clams. I have won bullfights in San Juan, cliff-diving competitions in Sri Lanka, and spelling bees at the Kremlin.
I have played Hamlet, I have performed open-heart surgery, and I have spoken with Elvis.
Three Thanksgivings ago I coached oldest daughter to her first made-it-completely-by-herself pie; she is a quick study.
And two years ago, she baked all the our traditional pies single handed:
Sweet Potato Pie, Pecan Pie, and Apple Pie
This Thanksgiving she finds her far from home, staying on campus over the holiday, and invited to her violin teacher's home for Thanksgiving dinner; so, she thinks she may make a pie for her friends. Here are recipes you requested, Oldest Daughter, and we'll be thinking of you as we make the same pies half a world away.
1 16 oz can pumpkin pack or 2 cups mashed sweet potatoes 1 14 oz can sweetened condensed milk (NOT evaporated milk) 2 eggs 1 tsp ground cinnamon* 1/2 tsp ground ginger* 1/2 tsp ground nutmeg* 1/2 tsp salt * use 2 tsp of the spice mix I sent you
Preheat oven to 425 degrees F. In a mixing bowl, combine all ingredients and mix well. Pour into a prepared pie crust. Bake 15 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 350 degrees F and continue baking 35-40 minutes or until knife inserted 1 inch from the edge comes out clean.
Apple Pie with Crumb Topping~
6-8 large Granny Smith apples (about 10 cups) 3/4-1 cup sugar 1/2 tsp salt 1 tsp cinnamon* 1/2 tsp nutmeg* 1 1/2 Tbsp flour *Hmm, even though it has ginger, you could try using the pumpkin pie spices I sent--2 tsp for one pie
Preheat oven to 425 degrees F. Peel, core, and thinkly slice the apples. Toss them in the sugar/spice/salt mixture, coating them well. Pile them into a prepared pie crust. Top with crumb topping and place in the oven. Bake 10 minutes, then lower the heat to 350 degrees F and bake about 40 minutes longer--or until the apples are tender when pierced with a fork.
Hint: Place pie on a baking/cookie sheet before placing in the oven in case bubbling apple goodness spills over from the pie pan.
Crumb Topping
1/2 cup brown sugar 1 cup flour 1/4 pound (1/2 cup) butter, chilled
Mix the sugar and flour until blended. Rub the butter into the flour mixture with your fingers until the mixture resembles coarse bread crumbs.
Oldest Daughter's string quartet will play Mozart's String Quartet No. 15 in D Minor, K. 421, I. Allegro in Oberlin Conservatory's Honors Recital this evening and I'm feeling a little mopey as all I have to listen to is the YouTube recording of someone else playing.
Oldest Daughter is also spending lots of time--much more time than she'd like--in the orchestra pit as Oberlin's voice department presents its annual opera performance. I've gathered that "opera duty", required once or twice during the undergraduate years, is somewhat like a musical jury duty. This being Oldest Daughter's second stint of opera duty in two years, she will be exempted from this obligation her final two years.
This is a qualified apologia for not allowing children to quit music lessons, particularly if they show any hint of musical ability. Active Son would have quit playing piano several times over if we had let him, but mean old parents that we are, we didn't. (I told him that if he could produce even one adult that said they were glad their mom let them quit piano then maybe, just maybe I would listen to his pleas to quit. He never did find one.) It gets worse. We made him sit for piano exams, endure a theory course, and "pushed" him to play for people. I guess our strategy could have back-fired, but knowing this particular son as we did, we sensed that it wouldn't.
Our long term goal was never to produce a concert pianist or the like, but to give Active Son a gift, albeit a gift for which he would have to work diligently, that he could enjoy throughout his life, and in turn, a gift that he could give to others.
The two YouTube recordings are pieces that Active Son is working on for his senior recital--he isn't the musician in these videos; he says he still has lots of work to do but I think the pieces are sounding pretty good. Good enough to inspire me to write this apologia and good enough for Artist Son to break into spontaneous applause when Active Son finished practicing the Rondo Capriccioso this afternoon.
But what makes my heart sing (and my heart sings much better than my voice) more than hearing Active Son play these beautiful pieces is watching him enjoy playing the piano and keyboard with other musicians in their youth band and to hear him tell his older sister that he is looking forward to jamming with her and his brother when she is home for Christmas.
It's not fancy but it's good. I know it's good because every time I make it people ask for the recipe. I took it to a party tonight and four people asked me for the recipe. I only take credit for recognizing a great recipe when I see one.
There are various online recipes for this great spread; here is how I make it:
Garlic Feta Spread
8 oz (225 g) feta cheese
8 oz (225 g) cream cheese
1 scant cup sour cream
approximately 3 cloves garlic, minced (depends on how spicy you like it and how big your cloves are)
1/2 tsp. dried dill
1/2 tsp. dried basil
1/2 tsp. dried thyme
1/2 tsp. dried oregano
Combine all ingredients in a bowl and cream together. I use a whisk to break up the feta chunks. Tonight I piped it onto small crackers using a icing bag/decorating tip but usually I just spread it on crackers and serve. Delicious, and so easy.
The Garden Tomb site, located a few blocks from Damascus Gate, is the more contemporary Protestant alternative to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher as the location where Jesus was buried and resurrected on the third day.
Door to the Garden
From a Brief History on the Garden Tomb website: "As early as 1842 a German Theologian named Otto Thenius proposed the idea that the outcropping of rock known today as "Skull Hill" could possibly be significant in the identification of the site of the crucifixion." This site is now a bus station, with the walled garden backing up against it.
In 1867, an ancient Jewish tomb was discovered near Skull Hill, adding to the speculation that this was the location of Jesus' crucifixion, burial, and resurrection. Furthermore, a cistern and wine press discovered near the tomb seemed to indicate that the tomb was located in the garden of a wealthy Jew--Joseph of Arimathea perhaps? Perhaps. But even the articulate, Christian guides working in the garden are careful to note that no one really knows if this is the tomb of Jesus.
Just before heading back to school this fall, Oldest Daughter casually mentioned that she needed another blanket for her dorm bed this winter. And I casually responded that I would make her a quilt, reminded that I had intended to make her a quilt of recycled denim when she went off to college, but somehow never did. I planned to make this quilt and send it with a dear friend who was traveling to the States the first week of October.
The next couple of weeks found me working purposefully and unrelentingly on this quilt; though I used to sew frequently, I hadn't worked on a sewing project in years, many years. I had a small stash of recyclable denim but needed more, so for a couple of weeks rose early on Friday morning and headed to Amman's used clothing market to hunt for just the right jeans. Besides traditional blue I found pink (two identical pairs!) and turquoise jeans. The purple fabric is from a men's cotton shirt.
Sometime around the second week of working on this quilt, en route for the second time to the used clothing market, I realized that my crafting of this quilt had gone beyond enjoying-a-new-creative-outlet to near-obsession level. What was up with this?? Once I began thinking about it it didn't take me long to realize that this quilt was a metaphor for my mother love for Oldest Daughter, a surrounding, protecting love, and a love still being perfected and righted by a gracious and loving Heavenly Father.
And here is a glimpse into God's beautiful providence: soon after Oldest Daughter arrived back on campus, pressures came to bear on her that caused my mother's heart to ache. I was challenged by the irony of the word "mother" being contained in the word "smother" as God gently, though painfully began working on my smother love, refining it into a more fitting mother love. (With three more children to send off into the world, something tells me God will have more refining to do in the future.)
I stitched and prayed, stitched and prayed, thanking God for his loving care of me, giving this quilting project as a gift to me so that I could give Oldest Daughter a tangible gift of my mother love at this particular time, reminding her that she is ever surrounded by my love and prayers, and for his loving care of Oldest Daughter, strengthening her in all Truth to bear the pressures that had come her way.
Other than canned tuna, we endured an approximately 16 year period of fish-less fare, the main exception being grilled salmon when we visited the States every other summer. It's not that we didn't like fish; in the days of meager imports, the Jordanian market just did not offer economical, easy to obtain, easy to prepare fish options. Thankfully, the times have changed and now we are enjoying a meal of white fish fillets (only a humongous scientific name on the package, which none of us can pronounce) about once a week. Indeed, fish is now less expensive than chicken or beef in the Jordanian market!
Below is my favorite fish recipe. It's not my quickest, easiest fish recipe to prepare--I hope to share a couple of those recipes later--but I think it is the most delicious. And, it makes a beautifully colorful company dish as well. I've tweaked my recipe from
to make a company size portion so you can halve it for a smaller family or enjoy the leftovers for lunch. I serve it with quinoa (when I have it) but it can also be served with couscous or rice.
Spiced Fish with Chickpeas
2 kilos or 4 to 4 1/2 lbs white fish fillets 7 tsp. ground turmeric 7 tsp. ground cumin 5 tsp. ground cardamon 3 tsp. sea salt canola oil About 3-4 cups vegetable stock 3 cans chickpeas, rinsed and drained 4 sliced red and green bell peppers 1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro/coriander leaves 1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
1. Combine the spices and salt in a dish and coat the fish with the mixture.
2. Heat some oil in a large pan--rather than a skillet, I use my large teflon-coated cooking pot. I begin with about 1/4 to 1/3 cup oil(a lot less than I thought I'd need to fry fish) but have to add a bit more as I continue to fry the fish. Add the fish, cooking until browned on both sides and tender.
3. Remove fish from the pan and keep warm--I put it in a baking dish in a warm oven.
4. Discard any leftover oil and wipe out pan.
5. Add stock, chickpeas, peppers, coriander, and lemon juice to the pan, simmer, covered about 10 minutes or until peppers are soft.
6. Serve fish on a bed of quinoa (my pick), couscous, or rice with the chickpea mixture. Garnish with more chopped coriander leaves.
That's the name I thought of for Artist Son's latest artistic and commercial venture. He's not so sure, though. The double meaning is a little cheesy in his opinion. Jo-Rocks doesn't work for him either, so for the time being his venture will remain nameless.
Desert Monitor
Sinai Agama
Artist Son has long been combining his love of nature, wildlife, and art, and I think his latest project, painting indigenous Jordanian lizards on Jordanian rocks, is the perfect combination of these loves. In the past months he has sold a couple of his painted rocks to individuals and given a few more as gifts, and now they are available for sale in the local market.
Turkish Gecko
From the Earth, and industry business which exports products from the Middle East to the United States and Europe, also maintains a growing presence in the Jordanian market and will be carrying Artist Son's lizard rocks at their showroom.
Lebanon Lizard
Northern Fan-Footed Gecko
Artist Son is also experimenting painting Jordanian insects and scorpions on rocks. Stay tuned...
Approximately 12,000 participants from 71 countries, unseasonably hot temperatures of about 35 degrees C--over 90 degrees F, and a race route that took runners and walkers through downtown Amman streets lined with traditional old-city dwellers and shop keepers all combined to make the first Amman International Marathon/10K Run an event rather than a race. Why, His Majesty King Abdallah even sent his regards by way of four special planes to swoop down over the start of the race, twice, in perfect formation.
Dear Husband, Active Son, Artist Son, and I ran the 10K along with a couple of friends. Tayta ran the was-supposed-t0-be-4K-but-was-really-only-about-2K Run with a couple of her friends.
In the far right of our after-the-races group picture is our new friend, Jon. We are pleased to stand with him in this picture because besides being a really great guy, he is a really great runner--the kind that runs at the front of the pack. It was a pleasure to cheer him on as he ran--fast--with the best of them. He placed sixth, or ninth, in the Men's 10K Run. Way ahead of the rest of us. We finished, though all of us with slower times than we had hoped for due to the heat. And I'm thinking the distinct intermingling wasit il-balad (city center) odors of garbage, coffee, spices, and oily asphalt had something to do with it too. My excuse only.
Good effort by the race organizers, but runners in Jordan are still waiting for a race run well, with accurate mileage markers, cups of water (instead of hard to drink from environmentally unsound plastic bottles which have to be dodged by runners because they are thrown on the ground--this was downright hazardous when the water met the oily asphalt.), and more participants who are committed to running a fair race--cheaters abounded whenever the opportunity presented itself and many remained in the race until the end. Another suggestion: have the many, many walkers begin the race after the runners; when I wasn't dodging water bottles I was weaving through groups of walkers, at least at the start of the race. And then there were the walkers who were playing soccer with the water bottles...
While Christianity and Islam are both represented in Jerusalem's Old City by well known shrines and places of worship which have walls, roofs, and doors, Judaism has no such ancient edifice. Instead, Jewish (and some Christian) worshipers pray at the Western Wall or, as it is also known, The Wailing Wall.
Judaism's most sacred spot, the Western Wall is the section of the western supporting wall of the Temple Mount remaining after the destruction of the second temple in 70 A.D.
