I stood in front of a panel of professors, self-chosen, but intimidating none the less. Before me lay a spread of home baked bread, bean dip, chocolates, fizzy water in dark green bottles, coffee, and tea, all of which I had earlier placed on the table like an offering. I began to worry, will they think I spent too much time baking and not enough time preparing my thesis defense? While carrying in the food, I had been ensnared by a memory......
I was seven years old, and small for my age. My legs had years to grow before they would grace the wrapper-littered bus floor. My mother sent me to school in headbands, which pressed hard against the side of my head and made my temples ache. I leaned my head, which was thinly padded by a soft, wispy layer of young hair, against the window. The glass felt cool. It was a perfect moment for gulping in the blissful moments of time before the embarrassment of elementary school classroom learning began.
Suddenly the students all around me began to shuffle. A horrible, brutish voice permeated my meditation. "All right kiddies, listen up! This is my bus and you do what I say!!" I looked up into the face of a ninth grade bully. She had chestnut brown hair that was pulled into a ponytail which stuck out in the back like a straw broom. She had a prominent jaw, which was held together by neon rubber bands, and metal encrusted teeth. Every day, she picked on a different underclassman. She hardly took notice of me, but still I shuddered and averted my eyes as she walked by.
From my lunch bag, I noticed the round golden end of a Twinkie poking out. The inside wrapper was greasy with a moist dew, the kind that promised an eternity of freshness. Twinkies were useful at home for whenever I wanted to safely trespass into my older brother Jim's room. He had us convinced that there was a monster in his closet that wouldn't hurt you as long as you appeased him with Twinkies. Because there is no more fun place for a child to play than the forbidden room of one's older brother, we younger siblings would dutifully serve Jim's closet with a steady supply of processed sugar throughout the day.
I took the Twinkie out of my bag, and slipped out of my bus seat, and pulled up my tights (which were constantly bunching in all the wrong places). I followed the bully down the aisle, and tugged on the back of her shirt. When she turned around, I gave her my most pathetic puppy dog eyes and held up the Twinkie. She hesitated for a minute and then said, "thanks kid, your really sweet". From that day on, the bully was my ally.
As I walked into the corner classroom, carrying my bean dip, I marveled at the miraculous power of food. Food is a peace offering, a gift of love. Even when it is intended as a tool of manipulation, the message received from the food itself is "here, I hope that you live well for another day".
Chicken tortilla soup
The chicken
roast a 4 lb chicken (rinse the bird, remove the neck, pat dry, rub with butter, salt, rosemary, thyme, and stuff with onions. Bake at 425 for about 75 min.
The stock
Remove the skin from the chicken, remove the chicken from the bones. Place the bones (carcass) in a pot and cover with cold water. Add 3 small yellow onions, 1/2 bunch celery and 6 carrots (peeled and chopped). Add 2 bay leaves, some cumin, and some chili powder and salt. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer for 3-4 hours.
The soup
In a soup pot, saute 2 yellow onions, and the remaining celery. Add some diced green chilies (fresh or canned..if you use fresh coat your hands with olive oil before cutting..mine are burning right now!) and some salt. Add about 2 cups of chopped tomatoes (fresh or canned), and the chicken which was removed from the carcass (cut up). Add 2 cups of corn or hominy. Add the chicken stock. Heat through, seasoning with chili pepper, paprika, a little brown sugar, salt, pepper, cumin. Before serving garnish with tortilla strips, avocado, monterey jack cheese, cilantro and green onions.
~Enjoy!
No comments:
Post a Comment