Adventure Ho! Off to Bangladesh We Go!

So we are about to fly across the Atlantic Ocean, through 12 time zones, halfway across the world to Bangladesh. This is a bittersweet trip. We were originally supposed to visit in winter, with my parents. My dad was as excited as a kid going to a circus. He'd appointed himself tourguide for my kids' first trip to the first country I had ever known. Instead, my cowboy husband and I are leading the trip.

Part of me keeps thinking of all the people and things that won't be there: my dad, my maternal grandmother (the one who told me my first djinn stories), my favorite teacher, the house I grew up in. But another part of me is determined to do my best as substitute tour guide. So here are some things I'm hoping will get done:

1. Visit with my dad's extended family, many of whom will be meeting the kids for the first time.

2. Tasting my way through all my dad's favorite foods. He loved grocery shopping and I hope to visit one or two of the markets while I'm there.

3. Visiting my old school and haunts with the kids in tow. Show them the trees I grew up with.

4. Visit my mom's village where we spent many wonderful summer holidays.

5. Go on some crazy, bone-jolting, fun rickshaw rides.

And on a personal note, I hope to be taking many pictures, collecting stories, and learning to see Bangadesh through my kids' point of view.

I'm going to help my kids know the country like their grandfather used to, I'm going to make Bengali memories for my family. I'm going to embrace this trip as a joyous adventure and know that my dad is along for the ride in spirit.

I don't know when I'll be able to post again...so may your summer too be fun, safe & full of happy adventures!

Bangladesh Biman, the official airlines of Bangladesh

The Comfort of Pie & Words When Missing Dad

The upcoming Father's Day is going to be my first one without my father and it's hitting me pretty hard. I stayed up until about 2:30 a.m. sifting through photographs. Just me and my memories in a sleeping house. And lots of tears. I did find a photograph of the two of us that I wanted to share:

Happier days...of course, at a restaurant. He loved eating out and taking the whole family --not just the immediate, but as much of the extended he could gather together -- on his culinary adventures.

Another thing I discovered suddenly early this morning...I thought I had a handle on my grief. It's been exactly five months and four days since his death. I thought I had dealt with it. Well, I haven't.

"Grief was like a deep-dish pie whose filling takes longer to cook: it cannot be rushed." ~ Making Piece: A memoir of love, loss & pie by Beth Howard.

Since I'm finding it difficult to write about my dad today, I'll share about this book I'm reading, or re-reading. Yes, it was sent to me by the publisher Harlequin (their non-fiction department) for a review in the newspaper, but it explains grief through the language of pie and it touched something deep inside me. I understand life through words and food...and this has both.

Howard, a freelance journalist and a piebaker, writes about dealing with life after the death of her 43-year-old husband. He dies just hours before signing the divorce papers. There's guilt and love, forgiveness and passion in the pages. The author sums up her book perfectly in the introduction:

“You will find my story is a lot like pie, a strawberry-rhubarb pie. It’s bitter. It’s messy. It’s got some sweetness, too. Sometimes the ingredients get added in the wrong order, but it has substance, it will warm your insides, and even though it isn’t perfect, it still turns out okay in the end.”

Being a piebaker, Howard deals with her grief to a large extent by baking pies. Lots and lots of pies. She writes:

“With each push of the rolling pin and each pie that came browned and bubbling out of the oven, my soul was soothed and my heart mended a little more.”

I like pies, but I'm not a piebaker and bake pies only occasionally. So her route won't be my route. However, I have been a life-long reader and now, I'm a writer. Words have always sustained and supported me. So I seek refuge in words...in reading and sometimes in writing. Thankgoodness for books. Making Piece is ultimately about courage and survival and living with purpose. So thank you Ms. Howard for your sharing your story and letting me make sense of my grief through your words.

One day, I don't exactly know when, I hope I will be able to sit down and write about my dad and my family and my grief with grace and love. Make it coherent.

My dad loved all things sweet, and apple pie was definitely on the list. He was the captain of a passenger ship and at meal times, passengers were invited to sit at the Captain's Table. Very formal affair.  My father was also a storyteller and would love entertaining his guests with stories. One time he was so busy talking, he accidently grabbed the ketchup boat instead of the cream and spooned it all over his piece of apple pie. Mouths fell open and people stared. Instead of admitting his mistake, my dad just calmy ate his pie to the last crumb.... My mom and I still laugh about this story. So I'm sharing a recipe for apple pie from Making Piece, ketchup optional.

Beth Howard’s Apple Pie (from Making Piece)

Crust:

 (makes a double crust)

 2½ cups flour (but have at least 3 and ½ cups on hand, as you’ll need extra flour to roll dough and to thicken filling)

 ½ cup butter

 ½ cup vegetable shortening

 Dash of salt

Ice water (fill one cup, but use only enough to moisten dough)

 In a large bowl, work the butter and shortening into the flour with your hands until you see marble-size lumps form. Pour in ice water a little at a time, sort of “fluffing” the flour to mix in liquid. When the dough feels moist, do a “squeeze test” and if it holds together you’re done. Your dough should feel tacky, but not wet. (Do not overwork the dough! It takes very little time and you’ll be tempted to keep touching it, but don’t!) Divide the dough in 2 balls. Form each ball into a disk shape. Roll flat and thin to fit your pie dish. Sprinkle flour under and on top of your dough to keep it from sticking to your rolling surface. Trim excess dough around the edges with scissors so that it is about 1 inch wider than the dish edge.

Filling: (Beth originally learned this from Mary Spellman)

 7 large Granny Smith* apples (depending on size of apple and size of pie dish)

 3/4 cup sugar

 4 tablespoons flour

 Dash of salt

 2 teaspoons cinnamon (or more, depending on how much you like)

 1 tablespoon butter (to put on top of apples before covering with top crust)

 1 beaten egg (to brush top crust before putting in oven)

(*It’s also okay to use a combination of apples, try Braeburn and Royal Gala. Do not use Fuji or Red Delicious—they lack tartness. Also note, the approximate rule of thumb is three pounds of fruit per pie.)

Lay the prepared bottom crust into the pie dish. Slice half of thepeeled apples directly into the pie, arranging and pressing them into the dish to remove extra space between slices. Cover with half of your other ingredients (sugar, fl our, cinnamon, salt), then slice the remaining apples and cover with second half of ingredients. Add dollop of butter. Cover with top crust and crimp edges, then brush with the beaten egg (this gives the pie a nice golden brown shine). Use a knife to poke vent holes in the top crust (get creative here with a unique pattern if you want). Bake at 425 degrees for 20 minutes. Turn oven down to 375 degrees and bake for another 30 to 40 minutes or so, until juice bubbles. Poke with a knife to make sure apples have softened. Do not overbake or apples will turn mushy.

Here's a list of other #Letslunch posts honoring Dads:

Zestbakery's Grilled Rib-eyes with Uncle Andy's Chimichurri Sauce

Emma presents Dad's Ham and Rice

Eating My Words has On Dad & Onion: A Love Story

HapaMama has a great post on her dad and his taste for diversity

SpiceBoxTravels has Sesame-ginger chicken wings & a lesson in frugality

Mccchickie brings Hot Sugary Lipsmacking Doughnuts

WokStar has great pictures and Poached Salmon with Bokchoy

Pat's Father's Day Tribute is Egg Candy

#Letslunch is great virtual feast where food bloggers from around the world come together once a month to cook around a theme. If you want to join in the fun tweet at us with the hash tag #Letslunch and we'd love to have you join the party. :)

A Song & Memory: Besame Mucho & Banana Bread

My father died January 4 and I find myself at an emotional standstill, still trying to accept that fact. Outside, I'm functioning, taking care of my mother who had to move in with me. Inside, I have stalled. I have other priorities now...being strong for my mom, taking care of paperwork, making doctors appointments, cooking proper meals for the family and more.

What I'm not doing is writing...really writing. Slowly, I have resumed my newspaper column, but other than that...nada. My blogs have stagnated, I haven't written a new story since last year. To write is to feel, and I'm afraid to feel.

Last year, before any of this, I had been part of a fun twitter conversation and suggested this month's #Letslunch idea: Music inspired food. Life was light then.

I was going to sit this one out, but then I got a kind note from one of #Letslunch pals and she said she'd love to read anything I had to share about my dad. So here goes.

For your listening pleasure, I'm sharing Besame Mucho, a song I found downloaded on my Papa's new iPhone.

BESAME MUCHO


Click on it, listen and read on.

A large part of who I am today is thanks to my Papa. He lived well, taught me much and made some wonderful memories.

We both enjoyed food, shared a curiosity about new ingredients and complex kitchen processes and relished flavors and textures — from the balance of sweet and sour in a pickle to the buttery softness of fresh baked bread. If he saw something new and interesting and edible, he'd buy it and try it.

His sailing career allowed him to taste an adventurous variety of foods, from octopus fried rice to cooked camel. Despite trying all the exotic fare, one of his favorite things was my mother's banana bread — preferably still warm from the oven.

He loved this homey treat my mother essentially threw together to use up overripe, black bananas we all refused to touch. A cup of coffee and a slice of banana bread was enough to make him a contented man. He always enjoyed his treat with a smile.

After his death, we had an outpouring of calls, visits and stories from family and friends. And we kept hearing stories about my father and banana bread.

At the time of his death, my father worked at Home Depot. If any of his co-workers happened to be going through a rough time or if they were celebrating a birthday or a promotion, a banana bread would show up on his or her desk (if the recipient was on a special diet, then it could be a granola bar or oranges).

My father apparently believed my mom's home-baked goodness could cheer up anyone and fit all situations. He loved playing the banana bread Santa at his store.

His colleagues remembered him by wearing ribbons and the management surprised the staff with a banana bread break in his honor.

On a personal level, my father's death, funeral service and burial passed in a blur. While my heart ached, worry about my mom and the need to be strong took over. My mother didn't just lose her husband, but also her best friend and co-conspirator.

I'm spending these months with her because, well, we need each other right now, more than ever before. Emotions ebb and flow. One moment we are laughing over a funny Papa story and the next we are sobbing out a monsoon of tears.

We spend a lot of time in the kitchen, cooking and reminiscing. Recently, I was helping clean out her refrigerator and discovered some gooey, black bananas. This perfect coincidence stole my breath for a moment. Then we baked banana bread and shared a cup of coffee in honor of the amazing man we both love. I can't think of a better memorial.

I hope you enjoy listening to Besame Mucho with a cup of something warm and a slice of my mom's banana bread.

(part of this post was originally published in the San Angelo Standard-Times)

Mom's Banana Bread

ingredients

2 cups all-purpose flour

½ teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon cinnamon

¼ teaspoon nutmeg

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

2 or 3 ripe, medium bananas

2 teaspoon lemon juice

¾ cup vegetable or canola oil (you can use butter if you prefer)

1/2 cup yogurt or sour cream

1 cup sugar (or ½ cup Splenda)

2 eggs

¼ cup chopped pecans

¼ cup raisins or craisins

directions

1 Preheat oven at 350 degrees.

2 Grease a 9X5X3-inch loaf pan with cooking oil spray. Set aside.

3 Sift together all the dry ingredients, except for sugar (from flour to baking soda), and set aside.

4 In another bowl, mash the bananas with lemon juice and set aside.

5 In a large bowl, whisk together oil and yogurt, sugar (a bit at time) and eggs (one at a time). Add in the mashed bananas.

6 Add in the dry ingredient mix into the wet ingredients a little bit at a time, mixing or folding as you go. Reserve about ¼ cup of the dry mix.

7 Toss the reserved flour mix with the pecans and raisins, and then fold these into the bread batter.

8 Pour batter into the loaf pan and bake 45 minutes.

9 Lower temperature to 300 degrees and bake another 20-25 minutes, or until done. A toothpick inserted into the center should come out dry.

10 Cool & serve.

Hot Giveaway: A culinary romance with recipes

If you like food and happy endings, checkout this giveaway:

Hot Giveaway at Romance Magicians

What's the prize?

Too Hot to Touch by Louisa Edwards

Delish, right?

To read my interview with Edwards and get a sampling of the recipes from Too Hot To Touch, check out my article.

Taking Stock

At the beginning of the year, I chose a guiding mantra for myself:

"Live creatively, consciously, healthfully and simply."

About a month ago, I resigned from my full-time day job. It was a scary step, but I took it because I needed to. The bottom line being:

"Live life well and use the time I have on this earth to its full extent."

So now it's time to take stock and see what I've done in my first month of living on my own terms.

Here's the list:

1. Took early morning walks with the Cowboy & puppies.
2. Wrote a novella, and almost done with revisions.
3. Volunteered at my kids' school --a Diabetes walk, an Academic Carnival, and dressing about 80 kinder kids in caps and gowns for graduation pictures. It's amazing to observe my little people in a different enviroment, the nuance of their personalities revealed by their interactions with teachers and peers.
4. Coordinated media coverage about the Association of Asian-American Women's efforts to collect donations for Japan. A sister member, Dong Mei, who's half-Chinese, half-Japanese and 100 percent sweet, led the charge.
5. Returned to help cook at the soup kitchen every Wedneday (while I was working, I basically ended up only doing the large Valentine's Lunch and missed my weekly visits). Many of the old crew still happened to be there and welcomed me back.
6. Spent time in my garden. I now have sweet potatoes, red potatoes and a jicama plant in the ground.
7. Spent hours in our new $16 million library, just soaking it in. Read like books were going out of existence. Mailed out 52 packages of books for a contest I'm helping coordinate.
8. Went on a clutter-busting mission and had a garage sale. Continuing process.
9. Experimented in the kitchen. Pictured is a refreshing watermelon-strawberry drink with mint and lemon juice. Toss everything in a blender, bzzzz, pour & enjoy! For your poetic pleasure: Watermelons by Charles Simic.
10. Enjoyed my back porch, played more, laughed more.

Oh, I also organized my kitchen cabinets, refrigerator & freezer, which led to 3 Tips to a Well-Stocked Kitchen.

Not bad me thinks.

* What I haven't had time for: a pedicure. Sheesh!

Life Changes: Giving Up on "Someday."

Sorry, I've been MIA for a bit, but I've been busy changing my life.

In this economy when most people around me are thanking their lucky stars to have a job, any job, with regular paychecks and health-insurance, I resigned from mine.

Why? Because of Eva.

Eva was a petite,dynamic woman with the energy of the Energizer Bunny and a twinkle in her eye. I met her about four years ago in a writing class I was teaching. She wanted to write. I loved having her in the class --she was enthusiastic and inquisitive, did the work, and showed up for every session.On the last day, as we said goodbye, I told her to keep writing. She laughed her trademark laugh and said, "I'll probably wait until after I retire."

Well, she retired and actually helped me get the job. She'd already retired as a teacher, and now she hung up her hat as a nutrition educator. I wished her well and told her to buckle down and write. Unfortunately, her mother who'd been ill all along took a turn for the worse and Eva transformed into a full-time care-taker.

This January Eva's mother died. When I saw her, I gave her a big hug, offered her my sympathies. I made a silent wish for her: Now, now she would write.

Two weeks later she got diagnosed with Stage 4 throat cancer. And earlier this month, Eva died. Even though I knew her only a short while, Eva managed to touch my heart and bring change into my life.

Thanks to her, I had one of the best day jobs ever. For about three years I got to teach people about food and how to cook. Not only did I have fun at work, but at the end of the day I knew I was helping people improve their lives. I have had enough jobs where I wrote fluff to make a product sound like the greatest thing since sliced bread, or a news story to boost the publisher's pal. They paid the bills, but left me empty.

So, why leave my great day job? Because even in passing, Eva managed to touch me and bring about a change. She made me think.

Yes, I enjoyed the job, but did I want to retire from it? No.

If you asked me what was the one thing I wanted to do in life, the answer would be to write. The elementary school me, the college me, the today me would all answer the same way. For the longest time, I've wanted to write and be a writer. Not write a bit on the side, but be a full-time, wholly-committed, creative writer.

So, yes, the money was good, the health insurance a blessing. But the cost was most of my waking hours spent not writing. Some of the other costs were missing out on kids' programs that conflicted with work, travelling, spending time with my parents. Time.

So, while lots of people are digging in their heels to hold on to their jobs, I walked away from mine.Because "someday" sometimes just doesn't come.

I know my decision doesn't make sense to a lot of people,and that's okay. I arrived at my decision through much thought & reflection, and, yes, after many discussions with the Cowboy. It wasn't an easy decision, but it's the right one for me.

The key now is to live life well, and use the time I've gained.

Come read my interview w/CJ Lyons about working w/activist Erin Brockovich

Hi all,

Today is the release of ROCK BOTTOM, which my friend/mentor CJ Lyons co-authored with famed environmental activist Erin Brockovich. It's the story of a woman fighting mountain top removal mining that threatens her hometown. To celebrate, I interviewed CJ about ROCK BOTTOM.

Given that we are all writers, I thought you might be interested in learning about the co-authoring process and how the book came about. Given that we are all readers, I thought you might want to know more about ROCK BOTTOM, which is being released today.

So go check out the interview at Romance Magicians http://romancemagicians.blogspot.com/2011/03/interview-wcj-lyons-about-co-authoring.html

Tea Time for the Soul

Sometimes life knows better than I do about what I need.

Recently, I came home to a phone message from my Turkish friend, Saleha, inviting me to an afternoon tea the next day. I called her back to decline. I love Saleha and I love her cooking, but I had a hectic weekend scheduled.

When Saleha mentioned the tea was at 1 p.m., my food loving self piped up: ha, you’ve to drop the kids off at art class about that time anyway. How often do you get Turkish food? My writing self countered: you’ll actually have some peace and quiet, and you planned to write. How often do you get that chance? So they negotiated down to: just go for a little while.

Since the invitation was just for ladies, the Cowboy ended up taking the kids to art class and I went to tea (yes, I brought back goodies for the wonderful man). Saleha had prepared a feast: a red lentil soup, bulgur salad, and two different types of breads. One lady had brought a chocolate-covered Hawaiian bread and another had bought carrot cake. And of course there was hot tea, a beautiful, translucent burnished orange tea. Mine came in a traditional short glass with its tiny metal platter and spoon. I added my sugar and stirred, took a sip. One taste of that sweet, warm tea and my entire being relaxed.

Now I’d chosen my seat specifically to be able to keep an eye on the clock Saleha had hanging on a wall. But then the eating and talking began. I reached for a perfect round bun, shiny and brown, decorated with a sprinkle of black nigella seeds. I bit into the soft, buttery bread and discovered a delicious surprise: cheese and parsley hidden deep in the heart. The Turkish pogca (pronounced poh-cha) is a perfect treat.

Saleha shared the good news of her son’s engagement. Hearty congratulations rang out and more tea was sipped. We teased her about how worried she’d been about finding someone to take care of her son. We talked about our respective countries – Turkey, Jerusalem, Bangladesh, commiserated over bad politics and the expense of air travel.

We spoke of our new year celebrations. A friend spoke of her disappointment when ill health kept one of her children from travelling, but her other children rallied the family and off they escaped to the serenity of Big Bend. They hiked, they laughed, they celebrated family.

Somehow talk turned to fears. One lady treated herself to a spiritual retreat to celebrate the new year and drove to a hill country resort all by herself, terrified that she’d get lost. Well, she made it there and back. We told her, “You did it” and drank more tea.

My friend, Ara, told us about jumping off a cliff to paraglide. I think all the eyebrows around the table jumped to the ceiling and back. Why, we asked her.

“I didn’t have much choice,” she said, adding that she’d been in the company of her youngest daughter and so had to think about what message she wanted to communicate, what kind of example she wanted to set. “Plus,” she added with a shrug, ”all my kids are grown, I had a good life and so I decided what happens, happens.”

I shared my fear of heights and a story about a terrifying car trip to Aspen, where we had to travel a narrow and steep winding mountain road with no protective barriers. And Ara said, “But you’re a journalist and you’ve done so much.” Yes, but I’m also human. And part of being human is being afraid. What we are afraid of is as different as the different shades of human skin –some could be afraid of something as small as a common spider or something as big as death. Do we let fear stop us, or change our course? Do we face it down and work through it? Or do we thumb our noses at our fears and become daredevils? How each of us deals with our fears is what defines us.

Of course, talk turned to tea. The process of tea making, the different types of teas, the use of loose-leaf teas vs. tea bags. I’ve since learned that green tea, oolong and black tea are different classifications determined by how the leaves are processed. However, there are many sub-species of the tea plant and white tea is produced from the mature buds of a rare tea bush found in China.

Saleha shared that in Turkey women often come together for tea parties and wished her friends in San Angelo could visit more often.

Her words reminded my childhood home in Bangladesh. Tea was served at least twice– at breakfast and at tea time (4 p.m. precisely). Tea was made whenever guests dropped in, whatever the time. The Bengali’s tea-drinking habit is one of the few positive leftover legacies of British colonialism and we brew it strong and take it with milk and sugar. With garam cha (hot tea), there had to be some nashta (nibbles) and, of course, adda –a discussion that covered any and every topic under the sun.

So an impromptu invitation to tea by my Turkish-American friend took me half-way across the world and back in time when life was as sweet and nourishing as a cup of hot tea. I left Saleha’s house hours later than I’d intended but full of stories, full of good food and full of happiness. On the drive back, I made myself a promise: I must have more tea parties.

Ginger Tea

Whenever my mother heard any of us sniffle or cough, she’d rush into the kitchen and brew us some ginger tea to sooth the throat and chase off the cold. As a child, I thought it vile. But as I grew up, I grew to enjoy it. Now I make it if either Alvin or I are feeling under the weather or just to warm us up on a cold, gray day.

½-inch piece of ginger, peeled and crushed
1 cup water
1/8 teaspoon of black tea leaves or a tea bag of your favorite tea (a fruity flavored tea works good)
Sugar to taste
Lemon slices (optional)

Directions:
Place water and ginger in a small non-reactive sauce pan and bring to a boil, lower heat and simmer for about 2 to 5 minutes. Take off heat and add tea leaves and brew to desired strength (I prefer a bright rich color). Using a strainer, pour into a cup. Add in sugar and a squeeze of lemon (if using), stir and serve.

Guest blogging at Fiction Groupies

Sorry, the holidays are playing mayhem with my schedule so this is probably my last post for 2010. However, I'm not leaving you high & dry. As a favor to my twitterpal, the wonderful Roni Loren, I'm guest blogging at her Fiction Groupie about How to Cook Up A Chacter. Go check it out.

Wishing you happy holidays and a wonderful 2011!

My Thanks: winner announcement, agent interview

I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving break. Mine was absolutely great. We traveled to Houston to be with my side of the family, so instead of turkey and dressing we had chicken biryani (a rice and chicken dish flavored with cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, mace). Hey, we kept to the fowl-theme and the food was delish and the blessings were many.

Some of the highlights of my 2010 Thanksgiving weekend:

1. Waking up early and sneaking off to a neighborhood playground early Thanksgiving morning with the cowboy and the kids. We collected leaves along the way and talked about what we were thankful for. We swung on swings, slid down the slides and listened to happy giggles.

2. Spending time in the kitchen with my mother and sister, learning family recipes and stories. Watching the family try the end results. The verdict was uber kind: "It's even better because your hands touched it."

3. Finally telling people that I signed with an agent. For some strange reason, I needed to relish the news privately and accept it was real before I could share it. Here's an interview with my agent Nalini Akolekar.

4. Launching the blog and then checking back at every opportunity on the comments section. Unfortunately, my internet connection was spotty and that limited my visits. However, I'm absolutely amazed by the response. Thank you all so much for your kind words, great suggestions and follows. I will be adding a few more things to the blog: recipes, blog schedule etc.

5. Meeting up with a writing buddy I hadn't seen in ages, catching up face-to-face, talking writing. Visits with writer pals always refresh and inspire me.

6. Realizing what a great support system I have, made up of family, friends, and writing groups. I love you all!

Okay, enough of the sentimental stuff. Are you ready for the book giveaway winner? Drumroll please. The lucky person who won a copy of Monica Bhide's Modern Spice is...Deborah Blake. Congratulations! I'll be e-mailing you for details.

Thanks for reading y'all!