Before I get started, I want to wish all my non-Jewish readers a very happy Christmas filled with yummy food and lots of hope. But it brings me to something very important that I discovered the other night.
On Wednesday night, Ari and I had the pleasure of joining a bunch of friends for dinner at Inbar's house. Inbar is the leader of our young professionals group in Long Beach, Gesher City, an amazing singer and a good friend.
We sat at her table and enjoyed delicious homemade goodies -- from babaganoush from scratch to a scrumptious chicken dish. Together, we shared lots of laughter and conversation, some in English, other parts in Hebrew. We discussed our most recent event, Rock the Dreidel, and the success we had.
Suddenly, as we were munching, Inbar quieted everyone down and said, "I have been meaning to ask this: What's your New Year's resolution?"
Some of us had resolutions, others didn't. My friend Rae says she always makes resolutions and accomplishes them -- but if you know how amazing and organized she is, you can understand that this is not out of character for her. For me, I rarely make resolutions, because I don't really accomplish them.
When it came to my turn, I had two resolutions: to write more (something I have needed to do for a long time) and to get an exercise regimen that doesn't interfere with my Coumadin. But then, as we continued around to table, getting to my friend Josh, who spoke of trying to keep his commitments to his friends, I realized that there was a more important resolution that I should be keeping. More than my writing, more than any exercise regimen that I should launch.
We should be having more dinners like this -- sitting, facing each other, with Rae breaking out into her wide grin, Inbar making jokes and Josh going off on his interesting philosophies. We should break bread together.
I think I forget about that too often. With not having enough money, Ari and I have not been able to host dinners at our apartment as much I would like. To afford kosher meat for the two of us is enough of a problem. If you add a whole bunch of people to the equation, you've got issues. As much as I love making dairy dishes, I prefer eating meat if I'm making a Shabbat dinner. Plus, the poor Postage Stamp doesn't have enough room as it is -- keeping kosher there is a nightmare enough just for us alone.
About a week earlier, I had hosted a Chanukah dinner, and it was amazing to me, because I was reminded that we love getting together even for the simplest of meals. I didn't make anything special -- butternut squash soup, salmon, salad, zucchini and potatoes gratin and a pie. It was a small crowd, as there were just six of us eating. We pulled our side table, which, when company comes, doubles as an extension to our tiny kitchen table. Together, we shared what was in the house -- remnants of a farmers' market shopping trip and stuff in the freezer.
And yet, having the company together was amazing -- laughing with Sabrina and Kim while Ari and Josh had political conversations in the corner, with Eden eating more salmon than she has ever eaten in her life (Eden doesn't like fish). We had delicious food despite the fact that Ari and I don't have a lot of money. But above all, we had good company.
As we fall apart, despite everything, we cling to those we love, and they are our life savers. I found that after I was laid off, my friends did everything they could. And I found pleasure in doing something as simple as bringing people to our place to enjoy a delicious meal while looking into each others' beautiful faces. I found this same joy at Inbar's house.
In depressing times, we need something to cling to, something to bring us together. I don't know if I'd use the word distraction, but I guess at the end of the day, it's what it is: a beautiful island of bliss in a sea of torment and heartbreak. We forget about our sorrows and come together around the table, remembering how to laugh, how to celebrate, how to enjoy despite the dreariness.
So, to all my friends, Christian, Jewish, Muslim, black, white, purple, brown, turquoise... whoever you are, come together. Sit at the table and enjoy food with those you love. Bring back good conversation, joke-telling, endless philosophies and singing. It's the way we will remember who we are: determined soldiers in a world that tries to bring us down, but at the same will never do such thing because we have each other.
BUTTERNUT SQUASH SOUP
8-9 cups diced butternut squash
1 large onion
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 container butternut squash soup mix
2 cups pareve chicken bouillon
2 tablespoons garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon ginger
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon coriander
1 cup cream (optional)
Heat a soup pot. Dice onion, add to a bowl with butternut squash. Season with salt and pepper, coat with olive oil. Put into the pan, allow to heat through for five to ten minutes, allowing to get slightly brown on the outside. Add container of soup mix and boullion. Simmer for 20 minutes.
Using an immersion blender, puree the mixture. Add garlic powder, ginger, cinnamon, cumin and coriander. Pour in the cream and stir. Allow to simmer for another 20 minutes.
Once simmered, puree with the immersion blender once more, until the mixture is velvety smooth. If it doesn't completely smooth out, allow mixture to simmer longer and try again.
Serve hot. If not serving right away, allow soup to stay warm on the stovetop.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment