Out of the Box

New Year's Eve was  pleasant. I took my weekly Yoga for Healthy Aging class.  I then watched the 35th Bonsho Bell ringing  ceremony hosted  by the Asisan Art Museum and the Kojin-an Oakland Zen Center.  On New Year's Eve the bell is struck 108 times to help free humanity from the 108 worldly desires that trouble us. I so appreciate the memory of hearing the beautiful large bell being struck 108 times with a wooden mallet.  There were several people who rotated striking the bell, but their strikes were quite consistent.   Here, tradition and discipline matters, and is a good lesson for Westerners so determined to have our own way.    

After the ceremony,  I cooked black-eyed peas, and for the first time, I added turnip greens and cabbage to the pot.  Delicious.  I also made some green chili cornbread from a recipe that Mother kept in her recipe box.  It is entitled "Spanish Cornbread", and  is handwritten on two lined small pages of notepaper. I now keep these pages in a plastic sleeve because I want to keep these yellowing and stained pages intact as long as possible. This recipe was given to my mother by Mabel Kelley, who graciously signed her name at the end.  I do not remember ever meeting her, but I have always admired her strong and clear handwriting.  Her recipe, written in blue ink,  is orderly, and not once did she need to scratch out anything nor did  she ever wander from her succinct guidelines, except to offer the good advice of serving the cornbread with red beans.  I seldom have the canned corn or the small can of pimento on hand, nor do I use the shortening her recipe calls for,  but cornbread is flexible and I think Mabel Kelley probably knew this as well.  I also enjoy her recipe because it gives me a chance to use my mother's Bromwell flour sifter.  It is a satisfying tool to use.  I love the sound it makes as I turn the crank.  

 

Those of you who read one of the church newsletter articles I wrote this week may have already seen this quote.  However, I am going to include it here as well.  It comes from Marcus Samuelsson's excellent book, The Rise, Black Cooks and the Soul of American Food, page 82:  Recipes are rituals. They're more than an ingredient list and a series of steps. They're personal meditations, small celebrations. They connect us to loved ones we remember well and those we wish we had known. Recipes introduce us to cultures that are new to us, and they reflect our own histories in the lives of others.     

  

We cannot simply close the door on 2020 and think that the myriad of issues that came to light last year have been resolved.   We can, however, keep going in courage, determined to connect with one another as best we can, learning and relearning as we go.  May we remember that we matter to one another, and we need one another,  so let us take good care.    

  

I believe another bowl of black-eyed peas is in order.   Yes, and cornbread.  Thank you, Mother, and thank you Mabel Kelley for helping start me on the journey through 2021, nourished and grateful.