Tag Archives: Montana

August Storytellers: 8 Love Stories, 8 Recipes, 1 Month.

1 Aug
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A ‘leaf’ designed by my sister, Heather, for my chuppah.

Around about two weeks ago, my sister-in-law, Caitlin, wrote a guest post for Jewhungry.  The post told the story of her journey to Judaism through food.  It also told the story of how she and her husband, my husband’s brother, met and fell in love (they are too dang cute, by the by).  It received a wonderful response; partly due to her ability to tell a great story but also because people loved the love story. I realized, also, that I had been posting a lot about love.  I posted Zak the Baker’s love story here.  And then there was the guest post from my bestie, Jackie, who wrote about her love and appreciation of her friends here.  There was a trend happening on Jewhungry and that trend was love.

The world needs a hug y’all.  The world needs a nice long, hard cry and then a big giant bear hug.  In the past several months there have been deadly forest fires, train crashes, plane crashes, celebrity drug overdoses and a whole host of really sad and heartbreaking events that are draining to the soul.  It’s too much.  Sometimes it’s just too damn much.  Ok, so maybe I need a nice long, hard cry and a big, giant bear hug.  Regardless, that post and the response got me thinking about how much people love a good love story.  I mean, think about it.  Nicholas Sparks is not the modern-day Hemingway, but he’s incredibly successful because the man knows how to tell a love story.  After every heartbreak in my teens and 20s, I would be devestated for a bit but then I would pick myself up and believe once again in love.  But I’m not just talking about romantic love.  It’s my love of adventure, travel and learning that pushed me to leave everything I knew and move to Israel for the year to study.   It’s my love of food that pushes me to continue experimenting in the kitchen and writing this blog even though I have an incredibly draining full time day job and my family to take care.  But love and passion are incredibly powerful emotions and they can push us to do amazing things (see examples above) but, also, admittedly, not-so-amazing things (oh my sweet, sweet 20s).

You try NOT thinking about love with this kind of scenery all around.

You try NOT thinking about love with this kind of scenery all around.

Just your average walk -- don't mind the baby on your back.

Just your average walk — don’t mind the baby on your back.

It also just so happened to be that love was weighing heavily on my mind at that time Caitlin’s post was published.  When that particular post was out, I was in Big Sky, Montana with my husband and our baby and I have to tell you, even with all the chaos of the world around us, waking up every morning to the stillness of the mountains and sipping coffee while watching the sunrise, I mean, how could one NOT think about love?  The warm fuzzies were alive and kicking in Montana.   Plus, this vacation was kind of an anniversary gift to ourselves and a birthday gift to our baby, who will be turning 1 in August, just 8 days before our 3rd wedding anniversary.

The picture my husband drew of us from about 2 years ago.  He draws like a 7 year old and yet, he's getting his PhD from University of Miami.  Go figure.

The picture my husband drew of us from about 2 years ago. He draws like a 7 year old and yet, he’s getting his PhD from University of Miami. Go figure.

He took me snorkeling when we were first falling in love.  (Gulf of Eilat in the Red Sea)

He took me snorkeling when we were first falling in love (Gulf of Eilat in the Red Sea circa 2008)

And, 5 years after that snorkeling picture we are married, we have our little girl and we are surrounded by wildflowers.  Not bad.

And, 5 years after that snorkeling picture we are married, we have our little girl and we are surrounded by wildflowers. Not bad.

So you see, love was just all around me and I wanted to do something with it.  The idea was thus:  Contact some amazing story tellers and ask them if they wouldn’t mind sharing their greatest love story.  Oh, and don’t forget to include a recipe that reminds you of your love story.  All these posts will be posted through the month of August, since that’s my month o’ love and well, it’s my blog, dang it!  Your incredible storytellers are as follows:

1.  Jeremy Owens:  Co-founder of Jewhungry, contributor for Oy! Chicago and creator/director/storyteller for You’re Being Ridiculous.

2.  Misty Dawn Lacefield:  Sister-in-law extraordinnaire.  I could listen to the story of how she and my brother fell in love over and over and over again.  Ahhh, young Southern, hippie love.

3.  Katie Bishop:  Creator/blogger at iamthemilk.com.  Katia is funny, honest, frikkin’ talented and she actually said ‘yes’ when I asked her if she wouldn’t mind contributing to this little blog.  I’m still in a state of shock and awe.  Lucky us y’all, for serious.

4. Ali Brand Stern:  Ali is funny. Ali is incredibly funny.  Ali might be one of funniest people I know.

5.  Ayelet Blumberg:  My sweet cousin.  Never have I ever met someone who went after a dream like Ayelet did and accepted nothing less than exactly what she wanted.

6.  Laurel Snyder:  Published poet and celebrated children’s author.  Homegirl knows her way around words.

7.  Stef Jadd:  My first impression of Stef, when I met her and had a real conversation with her, was, “this lady has passion for everything she does”.  Stef and her husband recently made aliyah and write about their aliyah experience here.

To get things started, I wanted to start off with my own story, of which I will post in full tomorrow. But, in the meantime, let me set the scene for you so you have an idea of what you’re about to get into.

This story starts in 2002.  It starts with an extremely tall and extremely naive girl, fresh out of college and fresh out of her first relationship, which happened to be with her first love.  As mentioned above, its 2002, which means that Sex and the City was taking over our culture and convinced us all (read: tall naive girls in their early 20s fresh from college and relationships) that it’s totally realistic to go out several times a week and ‘date’ lots of guy without any emotional/financial consequences).  So, we have ‘Cosmos’, we have girls nights and we have an unrealistic understanding of what dating is like in the real world.  Trust, things get good.  They get awkward, funny and good.

Until tomorrow . . .

Wait! I wanted to tell you that tomorrow’s recipe is coconut milk-soaked fried chicken with ‘Israeli’ seasonings.

(and from the photo archives . . . )

Someone tell that big mouth girl down below that she better buckle up because the real world ain't nothing like college (The College of Wooster, circa 2002).

Someone tell that big mouth girl down below that she better buckle up because the real world ain’t nothing like college (The College of Wooster, circa 2002).

I spent the majority of my 20s have intense crushes on completely unavailable dudes -- like this one, Season 2 Top Chef winner, Ilan Hall.  (yes, that really is him and he cooked my bestie, Jackie, and I wild mushroom risotto. Heaven).

I spent the majority of my 20s have intense crushes on completely unavailable dudes — like this one, Season 2 Top Chef winner, Ilan Hall. (yes, that really is him and he cooked my bestie, Jackie, and I wild mushroom risotto. Heaven).

{Guest Post} My Jewish Journey – The Joy of Caitlin

18 Jul

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Hi Lovely Readers,

I am currently enjoying a trip of a lifetime with my family in Blue Sky, Montana so I asked two trusted foodies to fill in for me while I’m gone. The first post is from my talented sister-in-law, Caitlin, author of the parenting blog, The Joy of Caitlin. The second will be from one of my most favorite people in the world, Jackie. Jackie is THE person who introduced me to the concept of food as art, as something more than just to eat but something you can be passionate about. I am so excited to reflect on this Montana experience next week (gang, there was a food festival. It was epic). In the meantime, please enjoy the guest posts and I wish you a wonderful shabbat,

Whitney

I was on a first date with Mo, the cute guy from my public speaking class. I had been working at a natural bakery in our college town and I was telling an anecdote about a customer asking for some challah. I pronounced it the proper way, with the hard “ch” from the back of my throat, and I think that’s when he knew I was the one. The blonde, Irish, hippie girl could stick around. In a funny way I think Mo’s reaction to the correct pronunciation was the very beginning of my Jewish food journey. I realized soon that the cute guy I was interested in wasn’t just casually or culturally Jewish like my other friends, he was “Orthodox,” raised in a fully observant home, he kept Kosher, and didn’t drive on Shabbat. Mo was fully engaged in the secular world, wore regular clothes, baseball caps, and went dancing in clubs. Yet beneath that surface was a deep faith and commitment to values that I had never experienced before.

On our first road trip together, to visit my Grandpa in northern Vermont, Mo pulled over just as we left town. He had packed his siddur (prayer book) in the trunk and wanted to say the Tefilat HaDerech, “Wayfarer’s Blessing” as we embarked on our journey. I felt so special, so cozy in the thought that he had a blessing to say for this occasion. I looked through his bilingual prayer book to discover that there were blessings for literally everything. Every kind of food and drink had it’s own special words of gratitude. There were blessings for natural phenomena, for healing, I was amazed and smitten. I wanted these secret words woven in my life too. I began to learn about Judaism without discussing it with Mo, afraid he would be worried that I was just doing it because of him, unsure of what he would think.

I finally admitted to him that I was surreptitiously studying Judaism and he was both excited and wary. We went to a few Jewish Renewal services in New York together, and while I was enamored with the guitar playing and Bob Marley songs, he was a bit underwhelmed. We began to occasionally spend Shabbat together, and when Passover came I was sure that I needed to attend a seder. He still hadn’t told his family about our relationship, and to arrive in a car in the midst of the two day holiday would have been disruptive and fodder for much disapproval.

I went to a friend’s family’s seder instead, and I felt a deep sense of purpose, with an underlying sadness. I was sure that I belonged there, yet pained not to be with Mo. For some reason I decided that night to eat the chicken soup. I hadn’t had any meat in seven years, I had been raw vegan on and off for the past three. Something about the occasion, about my longing to belong, made me want to join in fully. It was the same cozy feeling I had experienced when I discovered all the blessings. That one bowl of matzoh ball soup brought me more into the world of Judaism through food, and kick started my interest in the possibility of really creating a Jewish life for myself.
A few months later Mo had decided to travel to Israel for a scholarship in a Masters program in Jerusalem. I was graduating with a degree in English literature and a major itch to get as far from New Jersey as possible. He left in July, I booked a ticket to visit him in October, and spent the summer roaming the east coast, visiting friends, preparing for my first trip overseas. When I finally boarded that plane I left my mom in the terminal with many tearful goodbyes, and set off for the unknown.

The first thing I saw in Israel were the orange trees, the first thing I felt was the heat as I walked through the bridge from the plane to the airport. I heard the guttural sounds of Hebrew and felt excited and lost. I found Mo outside of customs and we loaded my two bags with all my earthly belongings into the back of the airport shuttle. I felt nauseous on the winding ride, amazed at the sprawling rocky hills covered in gnarled olive trees and stone fences I imagined to be ancient. When the van dropped us off at Mo’s apartment I was surprised at the dirty dusty streets and the unfamiliar street signs, then felt nothing but gratitude as we descended into his tiny basement apartment where I collapsed on his futon bed and slept dreamlessly.

When I woke hours later it was the afternoon. I was hungry, thirsty, disoriented. I drank some water, threw on my sneakers and we headed out to meet Mo’s friend downtown to get something to eat. I will always remember my first meal in Israel, at a tiny cafe called Timol Shilshom (http://www.tmol-shilshom.co.il/en/home/default.aspx). We ordered bread with pesto, olives and labane, everything was fresh and bursting with flavor. Then came the shakshuka, the quintessential Israeli dish Mo and his friend decided I should try, eggs baked in a spicy tomato sauce, eaten with crusty bread. I had spent my college days eating out in Manhattan, trying all different ethnic cuisines from Thai to Ethiopian, but this was a brand new experience for me. It was homey, bright, filling, surprising, and comforting, all at once. From that moment on I was in love with Israeli food, and my Jewish food journey began in earnest.

Read more of my story soon on The Joy of Caitlin!

Mo’s Famous Real Israeli Humus

Anyone who has joined us at the Shabbat table has savored the delicious, authentic humus that Mo makes every week. He developed this recipe after extensive tasting in Israel, and testing here in the states. It is one of the few dishes when I willingly give over the kitchen, and just get to enjoy. I hope you like it too!

Ingredients:
3 cups cooked chickpeas
1/2 cup Israeli tehina (can be found at Kosher stores or use regular tahini from any supermarket)
1/2 cup cold water
1-2 cloves garlic
2 tbs olive oil
Juice of one lemon
Salt to taste
Cumin if you like!

How?
Place garlic in bowl of food processor, followed by chickpeas (reserve a handful to put on top at the end) and the rest of the ingredients. Process until very smooth, adding a little more olive oil or water if needed, and adjust seasoning to taste. Serve topped with chickpeas, a drizzle of olive oil, and a sprinkle of paprika. It makes a great dip for pitas or fresh veggies. B’teyavon!

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