Points at which new recipes lost me…

     I like to fancy myself a pretty good cook.  But, it wasn’t always this way.  When I was freshly divorced in my early 30s, I struggled to put dinner on the table three times a week when my daughters came over.  But then, I discovered the delightful, frozen children’s meals, Kid Cuisine!  There are currently seven varieties of these meals: everything from “Pizza Painter Cheese Pizza,” to “Twist and Twirl Spaghetti with Mini Meat Balls,” to three different species of “SpongeBob SquarePants” meals that seem to involve two incarnations of chicken and one of macaroni.  The alarming thing I discovered while writing this is there are also twelve discontinued varieties, including the unappealingly named “Bug Safari Chicken Breast Nuggets.”  Wikipedia doesn’t say why these twelve were discontinued, but I’m concerned that many of them sound familiar.

     Living in the Kid Cuisine fool’s paradise for about a month, it finally dawned on me these probably weren’t the healthiest meals I could provide… in fact, I became concerned I was possibly poisoning my own children.  I understood at the time there were laws about that kind of thing.  So, I went out and bought a used paperback Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook, tenth edition.  Learning to cook terrified me.  To avoid hyperventilating, I kept repeating, “You have a Master’s Degree in education!  You teach reading!  You can do this!  All you have to do is read and follow directions.”  So, I started with one new recipe a week, and over time, have developed quite a repertoire.

     Nowadays, I usually read the recipe section in the newspaper, but sometimes I find their offerings ridiculous.  I am not the kind of cook who delights in the exotic or the hard-to-find ingredient.  So I thought it might be fun to share some actual quotes from recipes where they lost me:

• “Use a Spoonful of Shrimp Paste When You Can’t Find Anchovies.” — Oh yes, let me find that jar of lovely shrimp paste I keep in the refrigerator door.  Do people really keep shrimp paste on hand?!

• “Cover and refrigerate for at least 1 hour and up to 4 days to let the mixture marinate.”  — You know, you might get an hour of marinating out of me, but you can forget even one day, much less four.  If I tried to marinate something for four days, what would really happen is I would forget about it until the odor of the rot from the refrigerator reminded me.

• “These shrimp burgers are bursting with flavor thanks to kimchi.”  — Even the thought of shrimp burgers, much less shrimp burgers combined with Korean kimchi is certainly enough to make me burst, but not quite how they meant.

• “If you don’t have an extractor, puree the fruits together in a blender, then strain through a fine-mesh strainer lined with cheesecloth” — As you may have guessed, I do not have an extractor… and on my blender, only the first few buttons work… the purée button is clear to the right… and I don’t have a fine-mesh strainer… and there’s no way I’m going out to look for cheesecloth.  I think we’re done here. 

• “Fresh cilantro leaves with tender stems” — At my Walmart, I’m lucky to get cilantro and not get it mixed up with parsley.  I’m not about to start cultivating a new “tender stem” requirement.

• “You’ll need a 3-inch doughnut cutter and a small cutter for the center holes; we found in testing that you’ll have fewer scraps to reroll when you use a square cutter or a sharp knife and a ruler to measure 3-inch squares.”  — This all started out as fun and games; I mean who doesn’t like doughnuts?  First, are there really outer and inner doughnut cutters?  Where would I buy something like that?  And second, doesn’t it kind of take the fun out of it, not to mention it’s kind of OCD, if you feel you have to use a ruler to measure your doughnuts?

• “1 tablespoon fresh ginger grated on a microplane grater” — Okay, I might be able to find fresh ginger, but I’m not sure I even know what a microplane grater is.  You’ll be lucky to get the standard ground ginger you find in the grocery store cooking section, and yeah, it’ll probably be generic.

• “Beat in egg yolk, salt, vanilla seeds and orange blossom water 1 cup/225 grams unsalted butter (2 sticks), preferably cultured (European-style)” — All right, wait just one dang crockpot minute!  I’m supposed to find vanilla seeds and have orange blossom water on hand?  And what exactly is cultured, European-style butter?  Is it just American butter with an accent or does it also have to have an advanced degree and be well-traveled?!

• “Kimchi Pancake” — You know, I couldn’t even get past the title of this recipe.  It’s really bad when just the title kicks in your gag reflex.

     By now, I’m sure you can see why my favorite cookbook on the shelf in the kitchen is entitled 5 ingredients/15 minutes.  Besides, I used to think I liked to cook, but I've learned over the years what I really like is cooking while a bunch of friends are in the kitchen with me drinking wine and talking.  Bon appétit!

The Mystery of the Disappearing Keys

     I did not realize until I retired how many keys I had.

     As a priest, I had one key for the outer door of the offices, one for the inner door, one for my office, two or three keys for the church, plus a credit-card-sized electronic key that worked on some doors but not all.  I had the same heavy bundle of keys when I taught 6th Grade for thirty years.  Even before I began my teaching career, I always had a big bundle of keys in all of the minimum-wage jobs — jobs I appreciated because they paid the bills.  I remember even in high school I had a key for my car and another one for the trunk (Remember when those were two separate keys?) plus keys for my parent's house.

     It seems, however, I have arrived at a time in my life where I have only two keys on my ring:  My house key, and my mom's house key.  Even my mom's house key is going away soon since she is selling her house to stay in assisted living.  I no longer even have a car key because that is just a fob now on newer cars.  I do have a few more keys such as the one hanging in the hall for the back gate, but I rarely use it.  It is not worth carrying it on my key ring.

     I have begun to wonder if this mystery of the disappearing keys is a metaphor for what happens as you get older.

     There was a time when John the Baptist was all the rage in Jerusalem and its suburbs.  He was on Instagram, he was on Twitter, he was an influencer.  People were coming from everywhere to listen to that young firebrand preach and get baptized by him.

     But then there came a time when his cousin Jesus got a lot more popular.  And that really bugged John's disciples.  In the Gospel of John, chapter 3, they come to him complaining about this.  They say, "Hey, you baptized this guy, and now he's stealing all your thunder!  He's trending on everything!"

John heard them out, but then he replied with one of the most humble things recorded in Scripture.  He softly said, "He must increase, but I must decrease." (John 3:30)

     His gentle response has always fascinated me.  It has always felt like the entire Christian life could be captured in these seven short words: "He must increase, but I must decrease."

     In one way, it felt kind of sad after I turned in all my Church keys.  Here I was, shrinking before my very eyes. There was a feeling of quiet panic at first.  Who was I if I didn't have all those keys and what they represent?  But in another way I have to admit, it was a kind of a relief.  I'm glad not to have to pack around so many keys.  I don't need that huge bundle in my right-hand pocket anymore that jabs me if I bump into a door jamb.  With so many keys, pens, ChapStick, contact lens drops, and a black leather billfold in my right-hand pocket, when I sat down, it would often trigger the alarm on my car or the trunk opener.  It got really irritating to have someone stop into my office a few times a day to say, "Did you know your trunk is open?"  I don't want to be the one who is responsible for opening doors for everyone else anymore.  If you are the guy with all the keys, you have to do things like show up on time and be responsible.  Everyone has expectations of you.  It feels kind of good to let those expectations go and just be myself.  I have had a huge key ring probably since I was around sixteen, but somehow, I just do not feel the need to carry such a burden anymore after forty-six years.

     In The Lord of the Rings, when Galadriel is offered the keys… I mean the ring of great power that she knew would eventually destroy who she was, she finds the inner strength to refuse it and says, "I pass the test. I will diminish and go into the West and remain Galadriel."

     Now, I am certainly not comparing a lifetime of gainful employment to the "One Ring to Rule Them All," but there is something to be said for knowing when it is time to bow out.  There is a grace in letting go.  There is a grace in diminishing.  There are always relationships and jobs from which you have to move on.  On my journey, I think I have learned that an important part of wisdom in life is the grace with which we let go of things.  It has also been my experience that whenever it is time to step away from one thing, it makes room for someone else to step up.

     Although I was a very good teacher and loved it more than I can say, I learned long ago there were many, many good teachers who were nothing like me.  In fact, at my school, if I had not chosen to take early retirement, a new teacher who had great promise would have been laid off.

     I will always be an Episcopal priest, but stepping away from my position at the Cathedral will give others a chance to minister, and I believe she or he will do as well or better than I.  Trinity Cathedral is set on the banks of the Truckee River.  I have always said, "There were good people worshiping beside this river long before I came, and there will be good people worshiping beside this river long after I am gone."  It may sound a little morbid, but it has always given me great comfort that I am not responsible for the whole world or the future, but only my small portion of it.  I'm just not that important in the grand sweep of things.

     Stepping away also has opened new doors for me.  I'm a cellist.  Two years ago, I began working on the Prelude of the Bach Cello Suite in D minor, a piece that is so exquisite I am convinced when it is played by a true master, like Jacqueline du Pré, the angels weep.  Although I had certainly learned all of the basics of the piece more than a year ago, I just could not get the piece to flow.  The reality was, I did not have enough time to practice.  Within just a few weeks of retirement, however, I am satisfied enough with my proficiency that I can set it aside for now and move on to another piece.  (You never finish learning Bach.  I will be working on it at least for the next ten years to bring it to performance level.)

     I have gotten to work on writing that is not under a deadline.  My reading has expanded.  I am able to read books that have nothing to do with a class I must prepare to teach or a retreat I will run.

     And so, I have decided it is okay to diminish.  It is okay for me to decrease.  In fact, it seems to be the natural culmination of the Christian life.  Although it may seem counterintuitive, more and more, it seems the disappearing keys have actually opened new doors for me.