My rocky relationship with running

I have had an on again, off again relationship with running since high school. If I am honest, our relationship started even before that. It is like when you hear a couple talking about their first kiss being in kindergarten and then teasing and bullying each other until high school, when they realized they were really in love. In 1st grade, I beat all the other kids in relay races in the parking lot of my Catholic school. Once in public school in 3rd grade, I beat the other girls in the 800m on field day. In 4th and 5th grade, I was the fastest girl in my class and was selected to run a special cross country event in a near by county park. I really loved running, it felt great, it was fun, and it gave me something to be proud of. Other girls started joining extra-curricular cross country teams, but I did not; I chose to join a gymnastics team instead. I think that decision was what first put my relationship with running on the rocks. 

In middle school, I was practicing with my gymnastics team 9 hours a week and in 7th grade, when students are allowed to participate in intermural, I added 6 hours of cheerleading in the fall and winter seasons. When Spring track rolled around, I was exhausted and more interested in going home after school. Occasionally, I would run around the block, but I didn't really keep up any level of running fitness. My natural running abilities lay undeveloped and unused until I was in high school when I signed up for Varsity track. 

Once on the track team, my delight in running was rekindled, but I felt frustrated that I could not keep up with the other girls. True, everyone else ran cross country in the fall and winter track in the winter, while I was cheerleading, but I desperately wanted to be a star on the team. I ran the 400m and 400m hurdles mostly because everyone else hated those races and I usually could at least place and get points for the team. I jumped high jump because I could use my gymnastics training in that event, and was actually good at it. To tumble, one must jump straight up and then perform a maneuver at the highest point, which is also true for high jump. It is necessary to jump up first, then arch over the pole. I always scored in high jump and jumped quite high for a very short girl. But, I wanted to run fast! Now, when I look back at my times, I can't believe how fast I actually was. Time certainly helps one appreciate the gifts of youth. 

As an undergraduate, I officially broke up with running and we were never, never, ever getting back together (except for a few flings here and there). I was focused on studying and partying and certainly wasn't fast enough to run college track. I missed the feeling of being on a team, though. I also missed work-outs facilitated by a coach; I am not the type of person to push myself, and will not work out until I am too sore to walk, unless someone is aggressively encouraging me. But, whenever I did decide I needed to get some exercise, I hit the track or the treadmill. I continued to feel that running was the only real workout and the best way to exercise. I just couldn't commit, and I only exercised about once every three months. 

After my undergraduate degree, I found myself really enjoying bicycling. I was interested in the green movement, and liked the idea of biking instead of driving. Also, my car at the time was really unpleasant to drive. I rode my bicycle most places I went, and even rode back and forth the the restaurant where I worked about 15 miles from my home. Cycling 30 miles a day did improve my fitness, even if I still thought bicycling was a rather lame form of cardiovascular exercise. Eventually, a friend suggested I start running again, and I did. I started with a mile, then 2, then 3, and eventually I ran 5 miles in a row. That same friend suggested I sign up for a half-marathon just a couple months later, and I did. Two weeks before the race, I ran twelve miles along Dune Road. I remember meeting a friend who was driving down the road on the way to the beach. I told her, "If I stop to talk now, I will never start again!"

The Queens half marathon that fall of 2009 was an amazing race. The course was beautiful, the weather was perfect, and I finished! I do not remember what my time was, just the flowers and water views. After that, I was hooked for the next 2 years. I joined New York Road Runners and subscribed to Runner's World. I read about running and training techniques. I ran races in the city on the weekends and ran a couple small time 5ks near my parents' house. I joined Team In Training and ran my first full marathon in San Diego. I ran enough NYRR races to qualify for the NYC marathon and finished NYC in 4:09. The NYC marathon was one of the proudest days of my life. 

Once I had achieved my graduate degree, I moved away from New York, and since then it has been difficult to find the same joy in running. I learned to love running in NY and places with different weather or terrain don't make the activity more enjoyable, despite what one might think. Last year, I ran the Nashville marathon and did all my training where I now live in Albuquerque. I had some IT band issues and many of my long runs were thwarted. I finished in Nashville, but my time was a huge disappointment. After the race, I came home and ran some smaller races. I ran my fastest 10k and 5k that I had since high school and was just starting to enjoy running again. And then I went away for the summer. 

I lived on a sailboat this last summer. Running was impossible. The fitness I built up simply atrophied. When I got back to ABQ, the altitude and full time farming left me exhausted. Since then, I have been trying to rekindle my relationship with running. I thought signing up for a 5k might get me on track, but it didn't and I simply skipped the race. A friend of mine bought two pairs of Nike Frees in the wrong size. She purchased them from the employee store, so she could not return them, and offered to send them to me. I thought new sneakers would surely give me a kick to my step and help me hit the pavement with enthusiasm. I look cool with neon shoes, but I am not fast. 

I feel like I am now courting running and running is the one who is rebuffing me. I just can't get fast or really enjoy running right now. I am sure that running and I are not truly divorcing, but right now I think it is safe to say that running is not answering my text messages. 

Vegan Enchiladas Are Delicious

I have made these enchiladas a couple times now and I swear that they are better every time I make them. I made them again last night and they were so good, I think it is finally time to write a blog about them. These enchiladas are surprisingly easy to make and honestly delicious: another vegan recipe that meat eaters will enjoy and appreciate. This time, I got most of my ingredients at Trader Joe's and it turned out being quite an inexpensive dinner, as well.

Ingredients:
Enchilada Sauce
Organic Wheat Tortillas
1 can black olives
1 can black beans
2 zucchini
1/2 onion
Daiya Vegan Cheese, Jack Style Wedge
1 block extra firm tofu

First, I rinsed the zucchini and cut the zucchini and half onion into slices. I drained a can of black olives and added them to the food processor with the zucchini and onions. I pulsed these ingredients until they were coarsely diced. Then, I added the drained black beans and pulsed again until the ingredients were well mixed, but not pureed.

After noisily pulsing, I transferred the mixture from the food processor to a large mixing bowl. I drained a block of organic extra firm tofu and cut it into cubes. The cubes were added to the mixing bowl and mashed up with a mixing spoon. I tried to have the tofu mix evenly with the olives, onions, beans, and zucchini. On previous enchilada nights, I added the tofu to the food processor, but it had became too pureed and the texture was not right. Mashing the tofu and stirring it in created a much nicer texture and made the final product much more pleasing. 

Next, I added enchilada sauce and equal parts water to the mixture and stirred well. I used half my bottle of enchilada sauce here, so I added water to the bottle until it was full again for the sauce that gets poured on top of the tortillas. I scooped generous amounts of the filling onto each tortilla, evenly spread it out, and rolled the tortilla up. I only had 6 tortillas (I should have bought two bags!), so I was trying to use as much of the filling as possible, but adding plentiful amounts of filling also made this dish better than previous times I had made it. 

One of my husbands friends had broken my full-sized pyrex dish this week, so I had to really cram the enchiladas into a smaller pyrex dish. Luckily, tt ended up not mattering much. I poured as much of the 50:50 enchilada sauce/water mixture into the dish as would fit, and topped the tortillas with cubed Daiya jack-style cheese wedge. I had used the shredded Daiya before, but this is what I had this time, and it was so, so much better.  

I cooked the enchiladas at 350F for about 30 minutes and then we enjoyed them with some TJ's hot sauce. I usually serve them with green chile sauce, but we are sadly out of green chiles. The green chile sauce does make them better, but they were able to shine on their own this time without being overshadowed by the green chile. I had previously thought of enchiladas solely as a vehicle for green chile, but I was able to enjoy the enchiladas as enchiladas this weekend. 

These enchiladas are quick, easy, cheap, delicious, and full of healthy choices for you and the environment. I hope you enjoy them as much as we did!

Bottled Water Battle

This issue has been driving me crazy for years. Tap water is cleaner, safer, a ton cheaper, and better for the environment than bottled water. Add to that that it takes 3 times the amount of water than is actually in the bottle to make the bottle, over 17 billion barrels of oil are used in the production of plastic water bottles each year, and only 12% of plastic water bottles are recycled. And, the plastic that is actually recycled, cannot even be used for food packaging or to make new plastic water bottles! The US government has worked very hard over the years to ensure that US citizens have access to clean, safe, almost free drinking water. This is only a dream for many world citizens. And yet, most Americans buy flats of plastic water bottles from Costco and shun their taps, claiming that it is dirty or doesn't taste good. This is simply not true! It is cleaner and safer than bottled water, and in taste tests, Americans have been unable to distinguish water from different sources. It is astounding, but true, that Americans drink more bottled water than they do beer or milk!

For me, learning the facts about bottled water made quitting an easy choice. I have a stainless steel water bottle, an aluminum water bottle, and several Nalgene bottles that I fill with water from the sink and drink at my leisure. It tastes great, it nourishes me, it is always available, and it is free. For some reason though, most people are extremely attached to their bottled water addiction. When confronted with facts about plastic water bottles, they enter into denial. "No, the tap water here isn't clean," "the tap water tastes gross, I can tell the difference," " I put them in the recycling bin." Why are people so scared to admit that plastic water bottles are bad news and simply use a reusable bottle and the water from of their sinks? The answer is extremely relentless and successful advertising and brainwashing.

Bottled water first became fashionable in the 1980's when people began looking for a healthful alternative to noontime martinis during business lunches. Perrier and Pellegrino, sparkling European mineral water served in green glass bottles, were served in fancy restaurants in a similar way to a wine or liquor bottle service. Because, despite all the decoration, it is still essentially water, these products were not prohibitively expensive. Regular people could also choose to forgo the free tapwater and spend $6 on a bottle of sparkling mineral water and it was seen as a sign of class or good taste. Celebrities only drank bottled water, and anyone else could too. Soon, bottled water was being marketed as pure, straight from nature, healthier than tap water and should be drank exclusively not only as restaurants but at home, too. Things really got cracking when Coca-Cola and Pepsi jumped on board and declared war against tap water; a Pepsi VP is widely reported as stating "the biggest enemy is tap water". Ad campaigns were created with celebrities endorsing different water brands and bottled water became available from more and more vendors. Now, bottled water is so ubiquitous that it can even be bought at McDonalds. One can't really blame the businesses though, they are taking water out of the ground or in some cases straight from a faucet and selling it for $2 a bottle. The profits are amazing ($86 billion/year, in fact)! The ones to blame are really all the people that are continuing to fall for this ridiculous scheme.

Here's a confession: during the late 90's and very early 2000's, I was a major consumer of plastic water bottles. As a middle class kid exposed to lots of advertising, bottled water was a cheap way to be a little snobby. With the Hamptons right next door, my friends and I were always looking for ways to appear a little more high class and delighted in acting spoiled. My mom also enjoys pretending to be a little upper class and loves her coach bags, "expensive" wines, and bottled water. When my mom and I went out to eat together and the waitress asked "bottled or tap?", it felt good to say "bottled." We got a thrill out of feeling like we knew the "right" answer and we could afford to spend the extra couple dollars. At home, my mom brought home flats of Poland Spring water from BJ's (a Costco like store in NY), and I drank these religiously. I did not even have a reuseable water bottle, so If I was going to drink water, it was going to be a bottle of Poland Spring. I believed that if I drank more bottled water, I would lose weight and my skin would clear up, so I consumed A LOT of plastic water bottles. It was not until I was in college and learning more about the world, the effects of bottled water, and becoming less self-absorbed, that I finally learned to love tap water and be proud of it. Despite this, I had already caused a huge amount of damage with my recklessness and I continue to feel ashamed.

Now when I see someone drinking from a plastic water bottle, it makes me cringe and I feel compelled to share all the facts about bottled and tap water. Maybe that is obnoxious, but I really can't help it. It seems like such an easy, simple choice to me, and if people just knew the facts, they wouldn't buy plastic water bottles anymore. As a teacher, I share the issues surrounding plastic water bottles with my students, hoping that they will demand change in their homes. Some students are able to grasp the impact of their decision, but others refuse to see it. This summer, while teaching Marine Conservation Issues to high school students receiving college credit, I gave a lecture on pollution and the problems with plastic in the marine environment. Then, we headed out to the beach on a small Caribbean Island and picked up hundreds of pounds of plastic that had washed up on the beach. Later that day, the kids were thirsty after working hard and they all bought water, juice, and soda in plastic bottles (water is not the only thing in plastic: soda, iced tea, and juices in plastic are just as harmful - Choose Aluminum)! I was angry, upset, and defeated. I told them they were not allowed to buy plastic bottles for the rest of the trip, which may have instilled a habit in them for a little while, but really I wanted them to make that choice on their own. I am learning though, I cannot force people to care about this issue, I can only give them the facts and hope for the best. My own parents continue to break my heart as they relentlessly consume beverages in plastic bottles.

I am not sure what it will take to change the habits of a nation. Perhaps a marketing campaign as extensive and aggressive as the one that originally convinced us to drink from plastic bottles? Sadly, environmental groups do not have the kind of reach or funding that Coca-Cola does. I think I have no choice but to continue bugging and annoying my loved ones and students, begging them to change their habits.

The Teacher

I don't know if its true or not, but I feel like everyone has "that teacher." The teacher that inspired them and challenged them and changed their life. I was lucky that my high school, despite being in a decidedly unglamorous district surrounded by better funded much sparklier schools, had many amazing teachers. I would estimate that each year, I had at least 3 impressively high quality teachers. These teachers were organized, enthusiastic, hard-working, and persistent. They made me feel like their classes were extremely important and that my performance mattered. I honestly did not want to let them down, and while I was a perfectionist back then, and would not be happy with a grade less than 98 in a class, part of my motivation was pleasing teachers that I looked up to. I will not forget these teachers, but there is one teacher that stands out among the rest. Mr. Jester, or just "Mr. J." is one of the most amazing human beings I have met.

Mr. J was my ninth grade biology teacher. As a middle schooler, my overall GPA was literally 99.9 while taking all honors classes and two high school courses in 8th grade. When I started high school, I got a bit distracted by the older students and bigger school. I would ask to go to the bathroom and go to the cafeteria instead. I snuck out to lunch a couple times. I had crushes on senior boys and would walk through the senior hall way between every class, even if it made me late to my next class. My dedication to having a perfect GPA slipped. Freshman year was also the year I had the least fabulous teachers. My history teacher was nice enough, but not tough, my English teacher was flighty and not very organized, and my Math instructor was bullied mercilessly for her weight. Mr. J really shone in that cast of characters, but he would shine in any group of people. He demanded our full attention in a playful and serious way. He kept me aware that I cared about school and wanted to be a good student despite all the distractions in high school and he showed me that science is and always will be the most important class.

In Mr. J's class, we could not be late and we could not slack off in class. If we were caught yawning, we would be shot in the face with a water gun. If we did something truly unintelligent, we would be chastised as "smooth-brained cretins" or we would hear Mr. J mutter under his breath, "strong like bear, smart like tractor." He kept us on our toes by requiring us to call back phrases whenever he brought up certain topics. For example, when we were learning about photosynthesis he would flip off the lights when he wanted us to exclaim emphatically, "the dark reaction!"

Back when I was in high school, teachers still used overhead projectors instead of power points. He would write out notes on the overhead projector and then take down the notes and put up a Far Side comic with the names of the school administrators written in as the butt of the joke. He taught us that school administrators were essentially worthless, and at our school I think he might have been right. He would pull the comic down quickly with a little chuckle and then keep teaching about whatever it was that we were learning about.

We had massive amounts of homework, or at least it felt like it. Regardless, I spent all my time working on my biology homework. I wanted to be perfect for Mr. J. I particularly remember a winter break in which my classmates and I spent two full days in the town library sketching anatomical renditions of different organ systems in earthworms. I suspect that he assigned such a large project over break specifically so that we would spend the break in the library working together. When I finished that assignment, I was really proud of what I had accomplished and it felt really good to hand it in. Mr. J kept a tradition of "the frog test tube award," which was given to the student with the highest grade on each test. The award was really just an old test-tube with a dried up dead frog in it and frog stickers on the tube. The tube was inside a wooden box with tissue paper and other padding to protect the test tube. The award created fierce competition to score highest on each test. The winner kept the award until the next test and brought her class and herself so much glory! Because Mr. J had taught at the school for so long (even when I went there), students in my class had parents and aunts and uncles who had also been students of his and they would always ask us how Mr. Jester was and if he was still giving the frog test tube award or if he was still telling a particular joke. Mr. J created a tradition of dedication to learning biology that spanned across generations!

I wish that I could say that Mr. Jester inspired me to become a biology teacher, but he did not. What he did do, however, was convince me that science is the most important and most interesting subject to study, and when I went to college I majored in Biology. I knew that I wanted to study science, but I wasn't sure what kind of job I would train for. I figured that doctors use a lot of biology, so I should be pre-med. It never occurred to me that there were other career fields that were available and worthwhile. And, it certainly never occurred to me that I could be a science teacher! As an undergrad, I took a field ecology course and discovered that research science could be really fun and interesting and applied to graduate school instead of medical school. In graduate school (studying marine science), I had my first real teaching opportunities; I taught a microbiology lab and two general chemistry labs and then went on to volunteer to teach a marine science course for the WISE program at Stony Brook. These experiences opened my eyes to the joys of teaching. It was actually fun and rewarding! And it is a good thing that I liked it, because shortly after graduating, I moved to Albuquerque where there is no marine science to be done. I found a teaching job in a private school, teaching 6th, 7th, and 8th grade science and have since learned much more about what it means to be a teacher.

I would love to think that I am as inspiring as Mr. Jester, but I know I have a long way to go. Mr. Jester  has been teaching for decades and I am only in my second year. I suspect that he was not quite as dynamic and charismatic his first year teaching. I also know that middle school teachers are not as influential in a students life. I barely remember the names of my middle school science teachers let alone what I learned from them. I honestly cannot remember a single thing I learned in 7th grade science. But, I do hope that I bring the same enthusiasm towards science that Mr. Jester brought and I hope that, if I stay in teaching, that someday I am as influential and inspirational as Mr. Jester. I would like to be "That Teacher" for at least a couple students.

What concerns me, is that teaching is not seen as a particularly respectable career field in the US. Teachers make rather pathetic salaries and are not revered the way pedagogues in history were. There is of course the saying "Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach." Even Mr. Jester joked about this and poked fun at himself as a teacher. I often feel like I have not reached my full potential because I am teaching instead of pursuing a PhD. I absolutely know that this is not true for all teachers, but I think it is at least common among science teachers. My 10th grade chemistry teacher, for example, was a chiropractor who broke his hand in a car accident and had to leave his practice. He hated teaching and he took it out on us.

I think that it is important that intelligent and capable people feel like teaching is a worthwhile career choice rather than a fall-back option. In order for this to happen though, our attitude towards teachers must shift and people and the government must be willing to compensate teachers more fairly. If we want to have good teachers, we must make good teachers want to teach.  And, I think this may start with the teachers that are teaching now. Even if we don't feel appreciated, we should have an attitude that what we are doing matters so that our students consider teaching as a career as they move forward, and we should encourage that choice. If a student excels in science class, why not be hope to be a science teacher when they grow up? While I look up to Mr. J in every way, I hope to be different only in that I would like to inspire the next generation of teachers as well as scientists.

Clear Broth Soup: The new comfort food

When I received my Yoga Journal this month, it was during winter break, so I was able to sit down and read it cover to cover, for the first time I think. The food section, "Eating Wisely," was actually quite wise and very applicable after gorging during the holidays. The article points out that most of the foods we refer to as "comfort foods" generally make us feel terrible. When feeling sad many indulge in french fries, fired vegetables, ice cream, or heavy cheesy pasta. When we are done eating, rather than feeling comforted, we feel bloated, gassy, and guilty. It just so happened that I listened to "Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me's" food special that same day and one of the guests was Paula Dean, who gushed over deep fried mac and cheese. With the image of Paula Dean's special mac n cheese in my mind and snacking on breaded, deep fried pickles Jamie brought me, I read this article, and the validity of the central theme became abundantly apparent.

The tradition of eating "comfort foods" does not need to continue as is. When we eat these foods, it is so habitual that we barely even taste the food, we don't notice how much we eat, it does not inspire good memories, and the experience is almost numbing. But there are definitely other, better choices we can make; there are so many things that when eaten, actually make us feel better. I know that when I have a lightly dressed salad of fresh greens, avocado, carrots, tomatoes, onions, and garlic, I actually feel refreshed and nourished afterwards. It comforts me. The author of the article, Tamar Adler, suggests a redefining of comfort foods as foods that make us feel better after we eat them than we did before. For her, comfort foods are very simply prepared dishes that remind her of things that she loves. Very salty, clear broth soups remind her of the sea and by adding eggs and fresh greens, she makes them very nourishing. Her lyrical description of these soups cannot be matched, I have to quote it:

"Many of my most comforting meals rely on the quiet tranquility of eggs. It's easy to keep eggs from pastured chickens in the house, and each time I cook one, I know I am supporting good environmental stewardship. They also pair well with the terrestrial solidity of beans, good bread, or rice. 

I'm drawn, too, to olive-oily, garlicky cooked collard greens or kale, as well as a handful of raw roughly chopped parsley or cilantro. Greens remind me that soil exists, which is grounding. I also know how kind I am being to my liver and my bones.

 I like there to be a few contrasting textures. I prefer highly seasoned broths because liquid reminds me of the sea, and strong seasoning evokes an unkempt sea, and both are true and good."

 I read this excerpt out loud when I was reading the article, and Jamie and I laughed a bit. We are not generally people that describe greens as "grounding" or broth as "true and good," but the article spoke to me, the recipes looked delicious, and Jamie was coming down with a cold, so it seemed it was the perfect time to evoke the sea and make some soup. There were two recipes, Rice and Lettuce Soup and Garlic Soup with Poached Egg, and we had the ingredients for rice and lettuce soup, so that is what I made first.

First, I cooked two small chopped onions in olive oil over medium heat. When they had softened I added 4 cups of vegetable broth, 4 cups of water, 1 vegan boullion cube, some epazote, and 2 cups of white basmati rice. I allowed the mixture to reach a boil and then lowered it to a simmer and held it there for about 30 minutes (until the rice was very soft), while stirring occasionally. I sliced the red head-lettuce into ribbons and added them to the soup, allowing them to wilt. I mounded the rice and lettuce in the middle of each bowl and poured the broth over top. I finished by drizzling olive oil and sprinkling black pepper over the rice and lettuce. The bowls of soup looked fancy and gourmet and the soup was perfectly delicious. After taking my first bite, I couldn't help but reflect that the Yoga Journal chef was right about the ocean in the soup. Maybe it was only because it had been suggested, but my memory went to swimming at my home beach and having my sinuses filled with salt water from the crashing waves. We had this soup for lunch and dinner and there were no left-overs for the next day. I know that no left-overs mean that the dish was delicious, but when there are not left-overs, it is always when I want there to be left-overs the most.

For the garlic soup with poached eggs, I poured 4 cups of vegetable broth into a medium sized pot, sprinkled in Italian Seasoning, dried thyme, torn fresh sage, and 2 bay leaves. I brought the broth a boil and lowered to a strong simmer for a couple minutes. Next, I used a slotted spoon to remove as much of the spices as I could (I learned this is important or else the spices will stick to the poached eggs). I then added 5 cloves of sliced garlic and quite a bit of salt, and let the soup continue to simmer for about 15 minutes. While the soup was simmering, I cut collard greens into strips and sauteed them with olive oil over medium heat. I had bought a pain paisano loaf from Sage Bakery (the best in ABQ) earlier in the week, and I sliced it thickly and rubbed the slices with chopped garlic. I placed a slice of the thick fancy bread at the bottom of two bowls. To poach the eggs, I added a teaspoon of vinegar to the soup before breaking two eggs into individual teacups and carefully pouring them into the simmering broth. I allowed the eggs to cook until the yolk was just beginning to firm. The cooked collard greens were heaped onto the garlic bread in the bowls and then a poached egg was placed on top of the greens. The broth was poured around the eggs and greens, olive oil was drizzled over the egg, and ground black pepper was sprinkled on the egg as a finishing touch. 

This soup was very impressive. The eggs and the greens with the garlic and saltiness of the soup, along with the soaked garlic bread brought such a full variety of flavors and textures. It reminded me of enjoying french onion soup when I was a kid, but without the overpowering cheeses. Bringing me back to those memories, particularly of eating at La Fondue in Manhattan with my mom before seeing Broadway shows, was extremely comforting, yet upon finishing this meal, I did not feel over stuffed and I did not have a belly-ache. It was perfect. Reading this article and making these recipes will hopefully make me think twice before ordering deep fried foods on the weekends. Comfort food does not have to mean guilty pleasures and I can find more comfort and nourishment in healthy foods that I can eat thoughtfully. 

Vegan Chili con Tempeh y Cerveza!

A couple of weeks ago, when it started getting really cold in New Mexico, I decided to make some vegetarian chili. I didn't use a recipe, but rather threw what I had in a pot. It could have been good, but I got distracted and burnt it pretty badly. Since then, I have been thinking about cooking up another chili, but being more attentive. Yoga Journal sends me daily emails that I read about half the time. A recent email included links to recipes from Vegetarian Times, that I clicked on. As happens when wasting time on the internet, I began clicking through the website and browsing many of their vegetarian recipes. The chili recipe that I decided to try caught my attention because it included 12oz. of dark beer. My husband and I recently brewed an oatmeal stout, and I thought a homemade chili recipe would be even more fun to make with homemade brew! (The original recipe can be found here: VegetarianTimes Chili con Tempeh)

As always, I adjusted the original recipe, and added more spice. I used two jalapenos instead of one and doubled the amount of chili powder and chili flakes. I also used Trader Joe's fire roasted canned tomatoes with green chile instead of plain canned tomatoes. Despite these changes, the chili was still very mild. So, if you like things spicy, I would suggest tripling the spicy ingredients instead of doubling.

After gathering ingredients: 2 jalapeno peppers, 1 yellow pepper, 2 carrots, 3 celery stalks, 1 onion, 7 garlic cloves, 2 packages tempeh, 1 can fire roasted diced tomatoes, 1 can tomato paste, cumin, red chili powder, red chili flakes, Italian Seasoning, maple syrup, and Brisbin Oatmeal Stout, I chopped the carrots, onion, and garlic. I put aside 1 tablespoon of garlic and added the rest of the garlic with the onion and carrots to a large pot with olive oil and cooked over medium heat for about 5 minutes.

While cooking the carrots, onion, and garlic, I chopped the celery, jalapenos, and bell pepper. I added these to the cooking pot and continued to cook over medium heat for about 5 minutes more.

Once the vegetables were softened, I added the fire roasted diced tomatoes, tomato paste, 2 cups of water, 2 tsp cumin, 2 tsp chili powder, and 2 tsp Italian Seasoning to the veggies. I brought the mixture to a boil and then lowered to a simmer for 15 minutes.

 While simmering the tomatoes and veggies, I added the leftover tbs of garlic, 1 tsp of red chili powder, and 1 tsp of red chili flakes to my food processor. I then broke up the two packages of tempeh and put them in the processor. I pulsed the mixture until the tempeh appeared crumbled.

Next, I transferred the tempeh mixture to a frying pan with olive oil and cooked over medium heat until the tempeh was golden brown.

Once the tempeh was looking and smelling delicious, and the veggie and tomato mixture had simmered for 15 minutes, I transfered the tempeh into the large cooking pot with the other ingredients. I also poured a pint of our delicious oatmeal stout from the keg that lives in our refrigerator and added it to the pot. Finally, I added two tsp of Vermont Maple Syrup. 

The final mixture simmered for another 15 minutes. 

 

And, then it was time to enjoy! Although the final product was not as spicy as I had hoped, the flavors blended together extremely well and the crumbled tempeh added the perfect texture to a vegan chili. I had never thought to crumble tempeh before and plan to do it often in the future as a meat substitute in pasta dishes, lasagna, and soups. For anyone looking for a savory, filing, and warming vegan chili, I would recommend this recipe.

Green Chile Sauce, Finally!

I have lived in New Mexico for a year and a half, I have worked in green chile fields, I have roasted green chiles, and I have added them to many recipes, but until last night, I had yet to try to make my own green chile sauce. As I sit here eating eggs with rice and green chile sauce, I am so glad that I finally took the initiative and pulled out a bag of frozen green chiles from the freezer. I let it defrost all day and when it was finally time to make dinner, I opened up the zip-lock freezer bag and the aroma of roasting green chiles came rushing out. I was immediately nostalgic for days spent packing freshly roasted green chiles into 1 lb. freezer lock bags. I even thought fondly of harvest days spent hunched over chile plants, though significantly less so than roasting days.

I used a recipe I found online as guidance during my first green chile sauce attempt ("Traditional-Style New Mexico Green Chile Sauce" from Food.com), but I made several deliberate changes and a couple based on available ingredients. I diced a huge clove of elephant garlic and put aside a tablespoon for the rest of the dinner. I put the majority of the garlic clove (this clove was seriously giant) in a medium sauce pan with olive oil over medium heat and cooked the garlic until it was soft. I then added two table spoons of whole wheat flour, a teaspoon of cumin, and sprinkled in a lot of salt and pepper (I accidentally added quite a bit more salt than I intended to). I continued to cook these ingredients for about two minutes. Next, I added 2 cups of water and a vegan boullion cube. I stirred the ingredients, encouraging the boullion to dissolve, brought the mixture up to a boil and then lowered it to a simmer. While the broth was simmering, I peeled the skin from the chiles and removed the stems. At first, this task was rather unpleasant since the skin kept sticking to me and the chiles, but then I pulled the skin from chiles under a a light stream of warm water and suddenly it was easy. Once all the chiles were stemless and skinless, I sliced them into thin rings and dropped them into the broth with some "Italian Seasoning," which is essentially thyme and oregano. The whole sauce simmered for about ten more minutes. The major deviations from the "traditional recipe" were: no onions, 4x as much cumin, veggie boullion instead of pork stock, and Italian Seasoning instead of just oregano.

We ate the green chile sauce over chorizo with elephant garlic, spinach, and white rice. I have to say that the green chile sauce was the best part. It was so good, I literally ate the sauce with a spoon. Later in the evening when we were watching Breaking Bad (it was a very New Mexico evening), I was craving the chile sauce so badly I had to grab another spoonful as a snack. This morning, I piled it on my eggs and rice. I think this homemade sauce is going to replace sriracha in my life (at least for a while). I only have 1.5 lb. of green chile left in the freezer and so many green chile dishes I would still love to try. Green chile really is a treasure.

Green Chile Sauce on Toast and Green Tea, on my new Fika set.

Important! Salam Academy Kids!

Hey Kids!

I wanted to get this information to you earlier, but traveling and holiday activities have kept me quite busy. Here's the low-down on science fair: If you have approval on your project (everyone except Mahmmud and Odey) and you are allowed to do it at home (everyone except Layla), you should be experimenting all break! Remember to record data in data tables in your LAB NOTEBOOK; write down the date and time everytime you work on the project and write down EXACTLY what you do. Have the data tables drawn before you write in the data. Make sure that experiments are done more than once. Results MUST be repeatable.

In addition to experimenting, you will write two sections of your research paper: the introduction and the methods. The intrpduction is the "research" part of the paper. You will have to read about your topic and learn as much as you can. Then, write a 2 page esay "introducing" your topic, which should include the history of the topic, general background knowledge and informatiion, and a description of why your specific project is interesting, why other people should care about your project, and how your project will help people or advance science. Your methods section is like a procedure, but is written in paragraphs instead of as a list. The methods are written in the past tense, since you should have done the experiment already. It should sound like this: "one hundred mL of water was added to 50mL of olive oil and allowed to settle. Two drops of food coloring were dropped into the oil/water mixture and was observed for two minutes. Observations were recorded every 30 seconds for the 2 minute period." If you use sources that were not on your original References list, please make a new reference list. The introduction and methods sections will be typed in 12pt font and double spaced and printed so that I can mark it.

On the fist day after break I will collect your introduction, methods, and your lab notebook. I will grade these three things and they will count as a separate "project grade" and will therefore have a large effect on your overall grade. Please work very hard on this assignment and take it seriously!
I'd love to see Salam Academy send students to States again this year! And, I know you would love to have sonme extra cash and glory :)

Mrs. Brisbin



Some Vacation Pics!  We went on a Christmas Eve hike on part of the Appalachian Trail near Harper's Ferry Maryland. It started snowing when we reached this overlook and it was really incredibly beautiful! Pauly, the Brisbins' giant golden retriever likes his gentle leader about as much as Gnasher does and he was rubbing his face all over the rocks trying to get the leader off his nose.

 

 

This time of year...

I'm not really sure why I am a bah-humbug about the winter holidays, but I do have some hypotheses. For a while, I thought that I was just bitter because my Christmas budget was smaller than other peoples. I remember going back to school after the holiday break and hearing the fanciful stories of Christmas loot. Some kids got trampolines or TV's or gaming consoles, coach bags, and Seven for All Mankind jeans. My Christmas's were not nearly as fanciful, and sometimes I would make up stories about presents that I had "received." Just like my dad was "away on business" when I had sleepovers. Looking back on these Christmas's, I am grateful that my mom did not spoil me rotten. I learned the value of hard work and while I was materialistic for a long time (and still am, a little) at least I worked for my fancy things and really appreciate them. So, I don't think my residual feelings of inadequacy from elementary school or high school are what contribute to me being a bah-humbug.

I do have some nice Christmas memories. My mom took me into Manhattan to see Macy's Santa Land and we went to see the tree in Rockefeller Center and the Christmas windows on 5th Ave every year. I loved this tradition, even if it did leave me with a life long fear of elevators after being suffocated in the overcrowded direct lifts to Santa Land. And, we drove to Florida to see my grandparents almost every year. I literally went to Disney World just about every December for 14 years. As a child, I knew my way around The Magic Kingdom like it was the 4th of July Carnival at the local Volunteer Fire Station. I had some amazing Christmas gifts that I will never forget, like my American Girl Doll. I do have some awful memories, too, like the year we went to my father's house for Christmas and he took us to his in-laws, where my brother and I were ignored and neglected all day. But in general, my Christmas's were mostly pleasant and fun-filled.

So why do I feel a deep annoyance whenever this time of year rolls around? I hate walking into a store and being blasted by Christmas music. I hate driving down my street and seeing Christmas lights. I hate those stupid blow-up dolls people put on their front yards. I hate the expectation of giving and receiving gifts. It all drives me crazy. I think that deep down, the thing that really angers me is the assumption that everybody in America is so, so happy to max out their credit cards and consume like crazy. Not everybody loves Christmas and a huge portion of the country doesn't even celebrate the holiday! When Jamie told me that our neighborhood was having a Christmas Decoration Contest, I felt really compelled to buy a Menorah and put it in our window. Now that would be unexpected! I was raised Christian and I still feel affronted by the Christmas takeover of the world every December. I am really not sure how it feels to be raised in another faith tradition and be drowned in Christmas every year, but I would suspect that others may be even more annoyed than I am. Despite my ranting, I don't see the overpowering, exaggerated, and pompous parading of Christmas merchandise and decoration dwindling in the years to come. I suppose I will go on sneering at Christmas decorations and dreading Christmas shopping and worrying about my checking account.

Although the Christmas hull-a-balloo disgusts me, I am looking forward to spending the holiday with my in-laws in Virginia. Jamie's family is so warm and inviting and fun to be around that I enjoy any time spent with them, even if I do have to endure holiday flying. There is a certain feeling of wholesomeness, acceptance, and love that accompany the holidays with the Brisbins, which I think is what all the decorations and gifts and lights are hopelessly trying to create in the Wal-Marts and Shopping Malls. It happens naturally at their house and I wish for everyone that future Christmas delight can be created organically and that eventually we will no longer be subjected to the trashy tinsel and candy canes. I know it is a big wish, but I think that if we examine our values, anyone can have the best Christmas ever. Here's to the best Christmas ever (if only I could initiate it by popping my neighbor's singing-waving-light up-inflated Santa and reindeer)!


These are my only Christmas decorations...

Foster Pup

A couple weeks ago, a teacher friend of mine noticed that the pit bull puppy that was living under a portable classroom building was getting much skinnier as the weather cooled. She decided that the dog really couldn't stay there and called animal control. This was a hard decision, because stray pits generally meet a pretty deadly end when animal control picks them up. Luckily, an amazing organization, Second Chance Shelter, took the pup in. This shelter is run completely by volunteers and donations and helps older dogs and unwanted breeds find homes and gives them enough time to find the best home, unlike other shelters. My friend posted pictures of this pit bull pup looking for foster parents or a permanent home for the puppy. She was absolutely adorable, and she got a full time home almost immediately with one of the other teachers at the school, but it made me think about fostering.

My biological father and I don't have a relationship anymore. When my parents started their divorce, I was in kindergarten. We all lived in the same house for two more years, until my mom finally took us and moved to a rental house an hour away from my dad and the house I grew up in. Promptly after we moved out, my dad's mistress moved in, with her chihuahuas and her marmosets. Yes, my future step mother had several monkeys. Which, obviously made her pretty cool in my kindergarten head. She was also about 27 (I think?), wore trendy clothing, and was a cyclist and raced with my dad. I always had an obsession with animals and owning them. I fantasized endlessly about having a farm or living in Africa with giraffes in my backyard or having a dolphin best-friend. My mother hated animals and had no interest in having them in our house. She tolerated a house cat, but we would never have a dog or a monkey. As my mother got older, she developed a debilitating fear of dogs and literally freaks out when a dog comes near her. This divide between my parents in their attitudes towards animals played a large influence in which parent I preferred. I preferred my dad. I wanted his attention and I wanted to hang at his house, which was steadily turning into a zoo. My stepmother purchased a breeding pair of marmosets and a golden tamarin. My dad built a menagerie for the growing monkey population at our house.

Then, they started fostering litters of puppies that were too young to be adopted yet. There were actual baby puppies at my dad's house. The weekend could not come fast enough! The first litter was german shepherd puppies and My dad ended up keeping one of them- Shelby. They waited until Shelby was full grown before they fostered another litter, but this litter was even cuter, if not pure breeds. Again, my dad kept one of the puppies. I thought that this charitable act that supplied me with a constant houseful of puppies was the most amazing thing on the planet. I begged my mom to foster puppies, too, but she could not even consider the idea.

When I finally reached high school, I still loved puppies, but I also loved driving around with my friends on the weekends, cheerleading, football games, and working in the restaurant where I bussed tables. I began skipping weekends at my dads house and our relationship was beginning to unravel. At the same time, my step-mom had her second daughter and began pushing much more aggressively for my father to sever ties with my brother and I. I think she was bitter about being a second wife and resentful towards my father's previous life. She certainly wanted her family to be the first family and for all of my father's resources to directed towards her children. She began telling me that her family was going to move to California and that I would never see my father again. They never moved to California, but I haven't seen my father since high school. At some point my dad came up with the idea that my minor acts of rebellion in high school meant that I was a disgrace to the family. He stopped calling and I was no longer invited to their house.

For the last year of high school, I felt that my impeccable grades and my extracurricular activities while holding down a job and paying my own car insurance would surely convince my dad that I was not a disgrace. I hoped he would find out that I was ranked 9th in my class of 300 or that I received a full academic scholarship to the university I was accepted into. My mom still talked to him about financial things and whenever she did, I was always curious if he asked about me or if he seemed impressed that my college bills were so low. I finished my first year of college with a 4.0 and volunteered with St. Vincent de Paul Society, was a Big Sister, a mentor, and visited a children's hospital weekly. Maybe this would convince my dad I was worthwhile? My brother and I called him on Christmas and left him a voicemail wishing him happy holidays and letting him know that we missed him. We never heard back. Despite this, I continued to do things with the hope that my dad would hear about them and think that I was not a failure. Oh, Maggi finished graduate school? Oh, Maggi traveled the world? Oh, Maggi got married? Surely he would hear these things, change his mind about me, and reach out to me. We would have a tearful reunion and forgive each other and have a wonderful relationship for ever more.

When I saw the puppy on my friends facebook page, looking adorable and needing a place to stay, the part of me that wants to convince my father that I am a worthwhile human being woke up. I thought, my dad would be so proud to know that now that I am an adult, I am fostering pups too. I also have a very soft spot for pit bulls and know that they can be the absolute sweetest, despite their reputation. I really did actually want to help the dog. I contacted the woman running the shelter and let her know Jamie and I were interested in helping. Soon after, she came by the house with two potential foster dogs to meet Gnasher. One, Charlie (a brown and white pit), really stuck out as sweet and special. She was so nervous to come in our house and was scared of Gnash at first. Gnash barked in her face, like he does to all dogs that won't play with him, and she cowered and hid behind the daughter of the shelter volunteer. Then all of a sudden, she relaxed and started playing with Gnash. They wrestled and played and seemed to get on magically. Charlie stayed at our house that night and in the morning we took her to the vet to get a shot for her tapeworms. She pooped out tapeworms for the rest of the day, but remained sweet, gentle, and tolerant of Gnasher's constant harassing. We took her to the dogpark yesterday and she acted rather aggressively, which was unnerving, but not all dogs are dog park dogs. Overall, she has been a pleasure to have these last couple days and I think we will all miss her in our own ways when she finds a permanent home. I will however, be grateful to only have one dog again. I certainly didn't expect it to be so much extra work to have an extra dog. And, I miss the way Gnash behaves when it is just us.

Today, Jamie and I had a SCUBA class that lasted all day. We didn't want to leave the dogs crated for as long as we knew we were going to be out of the house, so we left Gnash inside, and we left Charlie in our small, but bigger than a crate, backyard. When we got home, Charlie was gone. Apparently she had jumped our 6' fence, jumped into a neighbor's yard (same fence), and jumped back out of the neighbor's yard. Eventually, someone thankfully took her in and did not call the pound. These nice people were so smitten by her, they may actually adopt her. The thought of her leaving makes me a little sad, but it would certainly be nice if she was only 2 houses down and we could still see her from time to time. When I walked into the house and realized she was gone, my heart dropped and I felt like I had let her down as well as the shelter, myself, jamie, and in some weird twisted way, my dad. I know that my dad will never know about my efforts to help this dog, nor would he care. As much as this experience has taught me that one dog really is enough, it has also been another lesson in having honest motives and truly doing things for the right reason. Someday, I will grow out of trying to impress my father, but probably not for some time yet.