Happy Girls with Jar of Date Stovetop Cookies

or How to Tame an After-School Sweet Tooth

I have learned the hard way that I must give my children a snack within 10 minutes of the moment their feet hit the ground below the school bus each afternoon. Since I refuse to buy plastic-wrapped single serving snacks, I’ve had to come up with snacks that are fast, alluring, and relatively healthy (using my own quirky interpretation of healthy).

Mira has a sweet tooth she could only have inherited from me, and I’m attempting to provide her with opportunities to find her own way to moderation – I’m worried that otherwise, she’ll follow in my footsteps and become a young schoolyard sugar dealer to support that sweet tooth I gifted her DNA with. Part of my plan is to provide her with treats that are sweet without an overload of refined sugar, to sate her sweet tooth while also helping her to calibrate her palate’s sugar meter so it takes less to get that satisfaction.

Enter the lovely Stovetop Cookie tradition. When I was a kid, these no-bake treats seemed to come in two flavors: Peanut Butter and Sugar (boiled together then rolled in more sugar) and Chocolate Chips, Sugar and Coconut (melted together and dropped on waxed paper). Tasty, but so sugary even I could only eat a few. And that’s saying something.

Here’s a version I came up with this afternoon to turn some dates and pecans from my bulk jars into sweet and sticky treats that are at least a bit healthier than the versions I grew up with. These are fast and easy to make, perfect as the final bite of an after-school snack. One of these small cookies settled Mira’s sugar craving right down for the day – Potent and tasty cookies! I’d like them better with dates as the only sweetener, so next time I’ll try that.

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2 cups puffed rice

3/4 cup chopped pecans

1/4 cup chocolate chips or cacao nibs

1 cup chopped dates (about 12 – 14 plump Medjool dates)

2 large eggs

1/2 cup date sugar, coconut sugar, or rapadura

1/4 cup coconut oil, ghee, or butter

2 Tb blackstrap molasses

1 tsp vanilla

1 pinch sea salt

organic powdered sugar or unsweetened coconut to roll ‘em in (powdered sugar is my main refined sugar pantry item – A little bit goes a long way)

Toss the puffed rice, chopped pecans, and cacao nibs or chocolate chips together in a large mixing bowl.

Combine the chopped dates, eggs, coconut oil/ghee/butter, rapadura/other sugar, molasses, and sea salt in a small saucepan over medium heat. Stir constantly for 8-10 minutes, or until the dates have broken down a good bit and the whole mixture has become thick, glossy, and sticky. Remove from heat and stir in vanilla extract.

Pour the hot mixture into the puffed rice mixture and stir well by hand. Let it cool for a few minutes, until you can stand to handle it. When you’re safe from burns, use your wet hands to shape the mixture into small balls (whatever size you prefer; I like about the size of a walnut in its shell). You’ll need to wet your hands after each 5-6 balls to keep things from turning into a sticky mess. Set the finished balls onto a baking sheet lined with waxed paper. When you’ve made the last ball, start rolling the earlier ones in powdered sugar or unsweetened shredded coconut so each ball has a lovely and less sticky coating. Coconut is the way to go if you’re going to store these for later, since it really helps with the stickiness factor over time; powdered sugar works for a few hours, but not overnight.

Eat right away or store in an airtight jar for lunches and snacks.

I’ve been working on a new venture called Cora with some amazing people, and here’s one of our offerings. The app we’re working on will connect us ith all sorts of ways to give new life to our stuff, including DIY ideas. This is a quick and easy way to transform produce netting to a sturdy scrubber, as good as anything you’ve paid for; better, actually, since this is free and it keeps non-recyclable plastic out of our landfills and oceans.

1. Gather your fine mesh bags and accordion fold them into segments 2-3″ long. I used one bag from some satsumas and a smaller one from some onions. Using more bags results in a larger and fluffier scrubber, but even one bag will work. Stiff mesh works best for very dirty pots; the very soft netting on some oranges makes a scrubber that’s better suited for very delicate items.

2. Tie the center as tightly as you can with a length of string; I used cotton string that had stitched closed the top of a bag of birdseed. Square knots are perfect here, and an extra set of hands can help you seat the knot tightly around the center.

3. Once the bundle is securely knotted, clip the ends of the string (cotton remnants can be composted), then cut each loop of bag to fluff the ends up. Voila! From produce netting to pot scrubber.

I tested this one by washing out a bowl of chocolate ganache and our very dirty sink.

The bowl, the sink, and the scrubber are all clean and ready for longer lives.

And if you like this solution for plastic netting, please check out what we’re up to at Cora!

stinging nettles, in the ground and in the bag

It’s still winter here, but I can nearly taste them, sparkling on my tongue, floral and fresh, almost carbonated. Last year, we got so carried away harvesting nettles that we forgot to plant spring crops in our garden. This year, I’m planning for a bit of balance – Bags of nettles, yes, but also some more domesticated greens planted to take over when the nettle season ends in flowers.

Nettles are, hands down, my girls’ favorite green vegetable. They’re not at all bitter, they’re tender, they’re rich in calcium, iron, and vitamin A (amongst other good things), and they taste like the soul of spring.

If you haven’t foraged for nettles before, here are our tips:

Wear long sleeves.

Wear gloves.

Bring a clean pair of kitchen/utility shears or hand pruners.

Bring a bag with a wide mouth.

Find a stand of healthy young nettles growing on clean ground. You want a location that has not been sprayed with pesticides or watered by runoff from an adjacent road.

With your kitchen shears or pruners, lop off the green top of each plant. Depending on how tall they are, this can be anything from a few inches to almost a foot. I stick with the tender section towards the top of each plant that has a relatively thin stem and dark green leaves. I cut with one gloved hand, holding the stem and then dropping it right into the waiting wide-mouthed bag with my other.

When you’ve gathered all the nettles you desire, head home. Keep your gloves on and rinse them clean in a large colander in your sink. If you have a clean plastic laundry basket, you can rinse them outside using water from a drinking water rated hose (I salvaged an old laundry basket last year and dedicated it to produce – It’s my new favorite harvest tool).

Dump your clean, wet nettles directly into a large pot with a few inches of water and a steamer basket. If you must touch them to do this, wear your gloves or use long handled tongs.

steamed nettles, no longer stinging, ready for eating

Steam your nettles in the covered pot until they are wilted but still a vibrant green; this usually takes less than 5 minutes. Don’t worry, the sting really will disappear once the nettles start to cook!

After you remove the steamed nettles, pour the green steaming water into a jar and store it in your fridge. This nettle water is truly a powerful tonic – I made the mistake of drinking a shot glass full at 10 pm one night last spring – I was suddenly NOT AT ALL TIRED and spent the night cleaning my house, finally falling asleep around 3 am. That was great for my house, but not such good timing on my part. Now I drink my nettle water only before noon.

Use the steamed nettle leaves and stems in any recipe that calls for spinach, kale, or other leafy greens. Nettles are wonderful in pesto, soup, frittatas, matzoh balls, scrambles, spanakopita, lasagne, quiche…You get the idea.

For more information about nettles, see Wildman Steve Brill, Landgon Cook, and a good old Google search.

Our favorite nettle recipes from last year are here: Potato Nettle Dumplings and Pancakes, JoJo’s Nettle Special, and Nettle, Potato, and Kubocha Soup. We’re looking forward to more nettle specials this spring – If you have a favorite, please share!

Buche de Noel, one week late

We ended 2011 in rather bumpy fashion. Mira broke her elbow, Ava had a severe allergic response to the medicine she was taking for some mysteriously infected toes, and we were barred from celebrating with my family to protect my brand-new beautiful baby nephew from any possible contagion we might be harboring. Our final taste of the year was sweet, though, thanks to a traditional dessert served well past its official holiday.

Since my mother celebrates Hanukkah and my father celebrates Christmas, my sisters and I grew up with both holidays in our home. I was assigned the job of baking a Buche de Noel each year after the one I made with my fellow students in Madame Solonsky’s high school French class turned out well. My own daughters also have a father who celebrates Christmas, and we make a Buche de Noel each year to help make his holiday bright. This year, we baked our Buche de Noel for New Year’s Eve.

The girls were in charge of the marzipan decorations; I used to make meringue mushrooms, but those never hold up well in humid weather, and it always seems to be humid here when it’s Yule Log time. As much as I love a nice crunchy meringue mushroom, I love the more complex shapes marzipan lends itself to – This year, we had a Pokemon along with a collection of more native slugs, snails, beetles, and mushrooms.

Here’s the my gluten- and dairy-free recipe, adapted from the Buche de Noel recipe at Nourished Kitchen:

The day before you bake the cake, make the filling:

1 13.5 oz can organic coconut milk (regular, not reduced fat/light). Native Forest brand is BPA-free.

2 1/4 cups chocolate chips, your choice of type (I like a combination bittersweet and semi-sweet)

dash sea salt

glug or two of orange liqueur or a dash of orange oil/extract (optional)

Heat coconut milk until almost boiling, then pour over chocolate chips and dash of salt in a medium bowl. Let sit for 2 minutes, then beat until chocolate is completely melted. Blend in liqueur if you’re using it. Let cool uncovered to room temp, then cover it well and let it rest in fridge overnight or until completely solid and well chilled.

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For the cake:

6 large eggs, separated – Make sure there are no bits of yolk in with the whites

2 Tb maple sugar

pinch sea salt

1/4 tsp cream of tartar

1/2 cup cocoa powder, sifted if at all lumpy

1/4 cup rapadura or Sucanat, sifted if at all lumpy

1 tsp vanilla

fresh zest of 2 satsumas

coconut oil or other fat/oil to grease pan

cocoa powder to dust pan and towel

powdered sugar for dusting top of cake

Preheat oven to 375 F. Line a jelly roll pan (aka a large cookie sheet with sides) with parchment paper. Grease the paper with coconut oil or other fat/oil, then dust with cocoa powder.

In a very clean large bowl, beat egg whites and cream of tartar until foamy. Keep the beaters going while you slowly add the maple sugar, then continue to beat until soft peaks form.

In a separate bowl, beat together egg yolks, cocoa powder, rapadura, vanilla and zest until smooth. Stir 1/4 of the egg whites into the yolk mixture until well combined. Gently but with purpose fold this lightened mixture into the large bowl of egg whites, so that no pockets of whites remain. Pour into prepared baking pan and smooth top.

Bake for 8 – 15 minutes, or until center springs back when lightly touched (my convection oven takes 8 minutes, regular ovens take longer). Don’t over bake!

While the cake is baking, generously dust a clean lint-free kitchen towel or piece of cheesecloth with cocoa powder and lay it out flat, ready for baked roll.

When roll is set and springy, lift parchment paper and cake from baking tray and let cool on rack for 2 minutes. Meanwhile, spread the cocoa-dusted towel/cheesecloth out flat. Invert parchment covered roll onto towel, then carefully peel parchment from the cake. Immediately roll the cake up from the long side, letting the towel line the cake as it rolls onto itself. Set the cake/towel roll onto a rack to cool completely.

When the cake is cool, take the filling out of the fridge and beat the ganache until it has lightened in color and increased a bit in volume. Don’t beat it too long, or the coconut milk will heat up and start to turn back to a liquid; stop when it forms nice soft peaks.

Unroll cake and towel, spread inside evenly with ganache, leaving 1″ of cake naked along one long side. Starting from the opposite long side, roll cake back up without the towel. Don’t worry if the cake splits as you roll it – This adds to the faux bois look. Cutting at an angle, gently lop off a couple of inches from each end of the log and set these aside. Set the filled roll seam side down on a serving plate, then position the cut ends along the log to resemble branch remnants. Decorate with marzipan mushrooms and dust everything with powdered sugar snow. Serve immediately, or as close to that as possible.

I don’t so much love many of the jarred versions available at my local stores – Most of them are too sweet, or not funky enough, or the pieces are larger than I like them (true, I am a bit picky). There is one brand that I adore: Midori Farm in Port Townsend, Washington, makes amazing kimchi. Sadly, at $12 a jar, I cannot afford to eat as much of it as I’d like. Out of financial necessity, I’ve been forced to make my own. I’m very happy with what I’ve created by playing with the recipe in the New York Times’ DIY Cooking Guide. I’ve done so much tinkering that my kimchi no longer resembles anything remotely authentic.

This is my Jewish Mother Version. I use green and purple cabbage instead of napa – It grows where I live, it’s inexpensive, and I like to think my kraut- and borscht-eating ancestors smile down upon this new way to get regular old cabbage into the bellies of the latest generation of our family. I add dates and an apple for their symbolism and sweetness. I push this kimchi on my children whenever possible, and although they almost never take me up on a bite straight from the jar, they’ll eat it when it’s stirred into soup. I’m a big believer in my matzoh ball soup, and I think kimchi has the same restorative and healing powers.

Here’s how to make my Jewish Mother Kimchi – Tinker around to make your own version. If you’re new to fermenting foods at home, check out a copy of Wild Fermentation by Sandor Katz for all the information and inspiration you need.

What you’ll need:

• Large stainless steel mixing bowls
• A collection of glass jars with lids
• Approximately 3 pounds of green cabbage (one good-sized head)
• Approximately 3 pounds of purple cabbage (one good-sized head)
• Sea salt, coarse grind. I get a much better price at H Mart than locally.
• 6-8 carrots, peeled
• 1-3 daikon radishes, peeled. The locally grown daikon I get through Bainbridge Barter are smaller than the jumbo daikon from the grocery stores, so I used 3 for my most recent batch.
• 1 medium/large onion, quartered, or a handful of fresh green onions, coarsely chopped. For this batch, I used my small home-grown onions, 1 white and 2 red. When my garden has them, I like to use the green tops of my walking onions.
• 1/2 – 1 head of garlic, to taste, cloves peeled. When garlic scapes are in season, I use those; the rest of the year, I use our home-grown Inchelium Red garlic.
• Fresh ginger root, peeled and cut into 3/4″ chunks
• 1 small apple, quartered and cored
• 6-8 Medjool dates, pitted
• Fish sauce – I recommend a bottle of Vietnamese fish sauce, nuoc mam. Read labels to be sure you’re getting one without artificial colors or other unnecessary additives. I like the flavor of nuoc mam better than Thai nam pla (I’ve never tried Korean fish sauce, aek jeot – I’ll have to look for a bottle).
• Tamari
• Gochugaru – Korean red chili pepper powder. Go for a brand that is 100% pepper flakes, no salt added. Since I can’t find this locally, I get it from the nearest H Mart and store the opened bag in the freezer between batches. Don’t go substituting another sort of pepper powder for gochugaru; you need this exact flavor.

What to do:

This is a two-day process.

Day One, to be done just before bedtime:

First, chop your cabbages up. Slice the leaves into thin ribbons, then cut these ribbons into whatever sized sections you desire. I like thin ribbons sliced again into pieces 1 – 2″ long, just right for bite-sized finished kimchi. Toss the solid cores into your compost.

Put your sliced cabbage into large stainless steel bowls and add 1/3 cup of sea salt to each bowl of cabbage. Toss well so salt is more or less evenly distributed. I put my green cabbage into one bowl, the purple into another, because I like how it looks. Push as hard as you need to to pack the cabbage into your bowls. You don’t need to be gentle, the cabbage can take it.

Add enough fresh water to cover the cabbage in each bowl, and invert a plate over each to keep the cabbage completely submerged.

Your work for day one is complete. Leave the cabbage to brine and head to bed. 

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Day Two:

This is the action packed day.

In a food processor, pulse the onion, garlic, ginger root, apple, and dates until you have a mostly smooth puree.

In a large glass measuring container, combine and mix well:

• 1/2 cup fish sauce
• 1/4 cup tamari
• 1 1/2 cups gochugaru. If you like fiery hot things, use more; if you don’t like spicy  heat, use less. I make a version we call “kidchi” with 2 Tablespoons of gochugaru.

Add the puree from the food processor to the red pepper paste and mix well.
Set aside and turn your attention to the vegetables.

Julienne the carrots and daikon, then cut each matchstick into a bite-sized piece (or leave them long, as you desire).

Drain each bowl of cabbage, reserving the brine from one bowl for later use. I save the brine from the bowl of purple cabbage – It’s the most amazing color! Squeeze or press on the cabbage in a colander to get most all of the brine out.

Set the drained cabbage back into the steel bowls, dividing the green and purple shreds evenly so that each bowl has half of each cabbage color.

Add the carrot and daikon pieces and toss well with your hands.

Add half of the red pepper mixture to each bowl of cabbage, carrots, and daikon.

Using your hands, massage the paste evenly into each bowl of vegetables, so that each piece of cabbage, carrot, and daikon is coated with a schmear of red. Roll up your sleeves and get to work.

Beware: Do not rub your eyes! The chili powder will burn like crazy! Also, if you have any cuts on your hand, you’ll want to wear food-grade gloves, since the paste will burn any damaged skin.

Once everything is nicely coated, it’s time to pack the kimchi into your empty jars. Fill each jar by hand, pressing down with your fingers to pack the mixture in. Leave at least the top 2″ empty, more if your jar has a sloped top. You need room for a bit of brine, and to keep the kimchi from touching the BPA-coated lid (it’s almost guaranteed that your jars’ lids have a layer of BPA, and that’s not something you want leaching into your food).

When you have the kimchi packed into jars, ladle the reserved brine into each jar to fill it to the brim.

Using a wooden chopstick or similar instrument, poke down to the bottom of each jar, working your way around the edges and into various points inside. This helps the brine find its way down to the bottom, eliminating any air pockets that formed when you packed the jars. The brine you ladled into each jar will seep down into the contents, exposing the kimchi again.

Once you’ve helped settle the contents of each jar this way, add more brine. You want each jar’s ingredients to be completely covered by brine, so that nothing solid is poking out the top. Press down with your fingers or the chopstick as necessary to make this happen.

Put a lid on each jar, and set each jar into a bowl on a counter in your house that’s out of direct sunlight. You could set all of the jars into a large lipped tray, but I think you’ll find it easier to empty individual bowls…And you will need to empty the bowls, because within 24 hours, the jars will start fermenting. Brine will be forced out of the top, either on its own or each time you open the jars. Or both.

Check each jar once a day, opening it to release the pressure and to verify that everything is still covered by brine. If anything solid is exposed, poke it back under. You can add more of the reserved brine if needed, but I’ve found that a few new pokes with the chopstick almost always settles everything back down into the briny bath.

You can eat the kimchi fresh from the day it’s packed into jars, but I like to let mine ferment at room temperature for about three days. Taste yours each day and see what you think. When you like the flavor, move the jars to your fridge to slow the fermentation. Remember to open the jars at least once a week when they’re in the fridge, so you don’t inadvertently create a kimchi bomb.

This recipe makes at least 7 24-oz jars of kimchi, enough for daily consumption and sharing with friends. You could make a half-batch, no problem. But did I mention this is good on latkes? And that it keeps for a long, long time in the fridge?

B’tei Avon! (That’s Bon Appetit in Hebrew, in case you were wondering)

Given the recent research identifying synthetic lint particles as a component of marine micro-plastic debris, I’m being even more careful to wash our clothing with synthetic content only if it’s truly dirty, beyond what spot-cleaning can manage.

Even our cotton and wool clothing is going longer between washes, the happy result of the union between my lazy approach to housework and my desire to lower our water footprint. In this, at least, I’m not alone. Even Levi Strauss is urging people to wash their jeans less often – Apparently, some time in the freezer will freshen them up nicely. I haven’t tried that yet, but I do have room in my Freecycled chest freezer…

Still, there are times when a trip through the washing machine is in order. Life with young children, chickens, and dogs provides one with plenty of soiled clothing opportunities; there is no shortage of things wet, sticky, and stinky to step in or be smeared with.

Here is my plastic-free approach to laundry powder. This is concentrated; a full load in my top-loading washing machine needs 1 Tablespoon (maybe a scant 2 Tablespoons if things are horribly soiled). A single batch of this lasts me a couple of months, at least. I add white vinegar as a fabric softener and to reduce build-up of soap in the fabric and my washer. Several months into this experiment, our clothing, linens, and other washables are all turning out clean and fresh and ready for more, more, more wear. All of these ingredients are readily available in recyclable plastic-free packaging, and for less than the same amount of commercially made laundry detergent generally costs.

DIY Laundry Powder Less Plastic

What you’ll need:

• Borax
• Washing Soda
• Bar of Soap – Nothing beats Fels-Naptha for stain fighting, but it appears to have some petroleum-derived ingredients. Since breaking up with Fels-Naptha, I’ve been experimenting with Kirk’s Original Coco Castile and Dr Bronner’s Magic All-One Classic Fair Trade Bar Soap; they both seem to work without a lot of build-up.
• Grater
• Large bowl for mixing – Glass or metal, so you can wash it clean of all residue.
• Large jar for storage, with a nice, tight lid.

What to do:

Grate your bar of soap into your large mixing bowl. I use the fine shred section of my grater to do this, since I want the soap to be as small as possible for the next step.

To the grated soap, add:

• 1 cup Borax
• 1 cup Washing Soda

laundry powder before mixing

Stir or mix with your hands until everything is very well blended and mostly smooth, with the curls of grated soap broken down. I find that mixing this with my hands is just as good as using a food processor to blend it all together; a spoon just doesn’t work as well. I wear an old pair of rubber gloves to do this, for safety and my skin’s sake.

laundry powder after mixing

Spoon the finished mix into your large jar and keep the lid screwed on well between uses.

finished laundry powder in a jar

CAUTION: This is poisonous! Keep out of reach of children and anyone else who might want to taste some! Label the jar so that everyone who comes near your laundry area knows this is not at all edible.

“Hey!” shouted Ava, “We just need to go to the parking lot and look for one!”

And sure enough, when we stopped by the large grocery parking lot later that day, we found a metal paper clip. Not just any paper clip; this one was more than fully functional, it even had some decorative etching – A fancy paper clip.

Ice Cream at the Rotary Auction Dumpster - The Recycle Team dumpster crew at their favorite foraging spot: Free toys and free ice cream!

And I realized that, in my kids’ minds, the first stop for any necessary or desired item is not a store. We grow a lot of our produce and have our hens for eggs, and we get almost everything else through the barter potlucks or the generosity of friends. We forage in local woods and marshes for mushrooms and nettles and other wild greens. The girls’ favorite toys at the moment are the ones they rescued from the Rotary Auction dumpster. And now we get our office supplies from local parking lots.

It’s a bad news/good news sort of thing:

(BAD) We’ve reached this point where there is so much durable waste in our environment, not just corralled in landfills or recycling centers, that (GOOD) you can find almost everything you need, if you only look. Our earth now supplies not just food and shelter, but modern office supplies and more.

My kids will be the first to tell you that shopping this way is a lot more fun than any trip to the store – It’s a free treasure hunt, complete with the rush of adrenaline that comes with the thrill of discovery.  Onward, parking lot foragers and dumpster divers!

I’m really more of an Monotheistic Animist at heart, and the word “God” conjures up an image of something very different for me than a tall white bearded man striding through some crystal cloud palace in the sky (although that is how I picture Zeus). But you can picture whatever, or whomever, you like, and make what you will of this offering.

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“Choose life!”, the Torah tells us, “I call heaven and earth to witness you today: I have put before you life and death, blessing and curse – Therefore choose life that you and your offspring may live.”

What could possibly be more obvious? It’s one of those choices that can feel so automatic, we lose sight of the presence of a choice. Our hearts pump, our lungs contract and expand, our bodies are run by involuntary reflexes. It takes us a few newborn minutes to sort out the basics, but then we’re off and living. What sort of a choice is this, then, this choosing life?

We are spirits in mortal bodies, death is coming for each of us, whether we choose it or not. And right now we are each alive, whether or not we consciously chose life this morning. And yet, we do have a choice, each of us. Life and death, they are both options at any time, every moment of every day.

You can find many essays about this pointing out that what God really meant, of course, was to choose a spiritual life, a good life, a life on the right path. But what if it also means exactly what it says? What does it mean to choose life, to choose life, to choose your own one life?

For me, life was not an automatic choice. I spent years trying very hard to choose death. I ran after it, I prayed for it, I desired its sweet and eternal embrace. I did not care if I was the one by fire, the one by water, the one by brave ascent, the one by accident; I just wanted to be the one, inscribed in the book of death.

I’m not sure it matters why, and I think it wasn’t just one thing. I think I chose a vision of the world when I was young and that vision informed my future choices about what to see and what to ignore. When I was three and my sister 6 months old, our birth mother walked out, telling us she was going to live with some other children who really needed a mother. My sister grew up sunny and literally bursting with song and dance, so perhaps I was born with my own dour personality, the opposite of hers. But from that day on, I was convinced that the world was rotten at the core, that human connections were doomed, that life was going to be nothing but suffering, that life was not worth choosing.

By the time I was a teenager, I was depressed with a goal: Death. I didn’t want a dramatic or messy suicide attempt, I wanted to be dead, already. Other kids planned for future careers, dreamed of love and marriage and children, knew they were headed for wonderful things. My secret plan was to be dead. I knew where I was headed: Not to some heaven, cavorting in the light, but plainly stone cold unconscious, forever. Nothing else seemed as alluring as this permanent and never-ending stillness and lack of presence.

That meeting with the college guidance counselor, that algebra grade, that cute boy, none of it was really important. I had no need to think of the future, to plan ahead. I knew where I’d be, and my destination required no special skills, no study or preparation of any kind. The love of my parents, the love of my sisters, the love of my whole family, my friends and my teachers; all the love that surrounded me rolled right off my death-oiled feathers. I felt only pain, I saw only the bad things, the bad people, the suffering of the world, a world seemingly governed by cruelty both targeted and random. In this gloom, Death was a kind god, and I prayed for his favor.

Until one day, one day that started out like all the others. I was fresh out of a month in the hospital for depression, a choice my parents helped me make when I couldn’t sleep any more, but when being awake was so painful, I was stepping out into city traffic, hoping that a driver wouldn’t be able to stop in time. I earned myself a release back into normal life by signing a contract promising that I would stop this dangerous behavior. I lied, but I figured that didn’t matter: It’s hard to hold a dead girl to a contractual agreement.

I was free again to look for a carefully careless stumble that would stop my heart, but I also had family counseling sessions to attend. On this day, I decided I’d had enough of therapy. I stood up, announced that I was leaving, and I headed for the elevator, off to see how I might cast my life away.

What happened next was most unexpected. I punched “lobby” in the elevator, and I was suddenly standing on holy ground, my soul flooded with a heavy and very unfamiliar knowledge that I was beloved by the universe.

That even I deserved to live. That maybe I was nothing special, but that no one was; we’re all the same that way: Imperfect, intentionally so.

That I was truly, really and truly, as deserving of life as every single other person on the planet.

That it didn’t matter how stained or tattered my soul felt, it was still a soul just like every other, a fragment of the light and breath of something eternal and unifying.

That maybe all of life was just suffering, but it was life, all at once mundane and seemingly individually insignificant, and precious all the same.

That sure, maybe my life sucked, but it was mine, my very own, perhaps not destined for worldly greatness, but to be treasured for itself because it was a life, a conscious life.

That it was not a cosmic mistake, this life of mine, that it was of value, beyond value, and meant for me, yes me, really for me, completely messed up and horrible me.

That I could, I should, live it, the way I wanted to, no reason to strive to another person’s goals or measure. That there was love and beauty and joy and delicious irony and light to witness and enjoy.

This was nothing, nothing at all, that my rational atheist self had ever wanted to hear. But some hidden starving part of me drew it in and came to life. And suddenly, I wanted to live. I chose to live. I was not also immediately visited with a trouble-free psyche and a cheerful disposition; I was still very much the sad girl I had been seconds before. But, for the first time, I wanted to go on.

Every day I’ve lived since that moment of clarity has been a choice made consciously. I haven’t done very well in choosing a life in pursuit of some of what this culture tells us is important: A solid high-paying career, for instance, and expensive things. But I have chosen life, over and over again. It’s not that I ever contemplate any other choice, it’s that I’m aware of choosing my life: The life I want, a life of experiences and connections and joy.

Here I am, more than 20 years later, still stunned and blinking in the pure light of the love that flooded me that day. I’ve had hard days, weeks, months, years since then, but never once have I wanted again to choose death.
And when my first daughter was born, and I held her body in my arms, I knew what it meant, that we choose life so that we and our offspring can live by holding fast to God. The room was glowing in light that didn’t come from the candles alone, I was holding a newly human living spark of God, a new soul come to the world to continue on this messy, painful, wonderful life. I knew for a golden second that as much as we hold fast to God, God holds fast to us, each of us, all of us.

I still see the the bad things, the cruelty, I feel the others hurt and alone, I feel their pain in my own body and heart, and I choose that pain, that awareness, that connection, this life. I choose life so that I may live, and my offspring, and theirs, a long river of souls stretching through time connected through our hearts and hands, holding fast to each other, and held fast by the eternal compassion and love of our Source.

DIY Kettle Corn

Yes, you can make your own kettle corn at home, no special equipment necessary, no heroic clean-up measures required.

Buy your popcorn, oil, sugar, and salt in bulk and you’ll avoid all plastic packaging – It’s a Treat Less Plastic! Not exactly a healthy treat, but what’s a childhood or life in general without the occasional handful of crunchy-salty-sweet kettle corn?

What you’ll need:

• Large pot with a lid.
• Hot stove (or a campfire, if you’re daring).
• Potholders.
• Large bowl.
• 1/2 cup unpopped popcorn kernels.
• 1/4 – 1/3 cup sugar, to taste. The pale beige organic sugar crystals will give you a see-through coating on the kernels that tastes like the kettle corn from the fair. Sucanat or rapadura will give you a mildly caramel-flavored brownish kettle corn.
• 1/4 cup oil that holds steady in high heat; I use grape seed oil.
• Sea salt to taste.

You can double each ingredient to make a large batch. Yes, that will seem like an obscene amount of oil, but you’ll need that much to keep the sugar from burning and to get an even coating of sweet and salty crunch on the kernels.

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What to do:

1. Put your large pot an a burner set to just below high and add the oil and 3 unpopped kernels of corn.
2. While you’re waiting for these first kernels to pop, make sure you’ve got the rest of your popcorn kernels and sugar ready to go, a large bowl waiting nearby, and that pair of potholders on your hands.
3. Once the three test kernels pop, pour in the rest of the kernels and the sugar. and pop the lid back on. Immediately start shaking that pot like crazy, back and forth, round and round, back and forth. Don’t stop! Not even for a second!
4. Once the popping has slowed down and you’re starting to really worry that things will burn, whisk the pot off the heat and quickly pour everything into that large bowl you’ve got waiting.
5. Sprinkle on sea salt to taste and toss it in with a spoon (you’ll burn your hands if you try to toss the salt in bare-handed).
6. Let cool.
7. Eat.
8. Store any leftovers in a large jar with a tight lid.

Reducing the amount of dishwashing powder didn’t seem to help. If I go below 1 teaspoon per load, the dishes come out with food still attached, and the film is still there.

I can’t add more vinegar than what the rinse aid cup will hold, so that’s not an option. Although the vinegar is very important – Don’t forget the vinegar! .

My answer: I fill the dishwashing detergent cup with baking soda, leaving just enough room for 1 teaspoon for my DIY dishwashing powder. This added baking soda seems to do the trick, and my glasses seem to be coming out without the film.

Baking soda, the answer to many problems. It’s almost creepy how useful the stuff is.