Moments of Joy

In a breaking news world, events perhaps become bigger than themselves. Every single angle is examined, discussed, theorized and debated.  Leading to even more theories and debate.  The truth lost somewhere between all the exchange.

But the suicide bombings in Paris and in Brussels are real.  The threat to life as we know it here in Europe and throughout the world palpable.  Inevitable.

It is easy enough to get lost in a spiral of depression.  And that feeling of futility.

And yet life needs to go on.  Dinner must be made, the clothes washed, the beddings changed, the children put to bed, the garden prepared for the coming of spring, birthdays celebrated. There is nothing like routine to keep one going.

And then there are those moments of joy. 

In my mind’s eye I see them as candles in the dark. Burning one at a time. As soon as one starts to flicker, another one comes up bright.   Never leaving one in total darkness.

Those moments can be flitting like the glimpse of a field of sunflowers from a fast moving train.  Or they can be constant and comforting like that feeling of safety within my Rosary group or even alone in the chapel surrounded by dozens of votive candles.  They can be moments of abandon as in my keep-fit class when the music takes over and the day’s agenda dissolves in the rhythm of the dance.  They can be tangible like the memories captured in my phone of a beautiful sunset, my grandson’s first day at school or that delicious cocktail I have to make again at home.  Countless memories that I can relive stored in a gadget I carry every where I go.   Reminding me of the happy, funny, significant and often, just-because moments in my life.  Moments I can attach to faces, places and things.

Yes, there is trouble in our world.  There always has been.  And I suppose always will be.   But we will survive, triumph even! For in spite of it all, there will always be moments of joy.  

Nearly 30 years ago, Cristina, my Swedish neighbor and friend in Dusseldorf shared this recipe with me.  It has since become our traditional family birthday cake.  It has a crunchy top and a melt-in-the-mouth richness inside, much like discovering joy in the darkness.

 When made according to the original recipe, it is like a big chocolate cookie.    ( Another friend calls it the Cookie Cake).  Double the ingredients and it becomes an irresistible  better-than-brownies cake. 

You can top it with slivered almonds or chopped walnuts, or as in this case … with birthday candles!

I normally serve it with some fresh fruit and whipped cream on the side.

Cristina’s Chocolate Cake

2 eggs

1 cup sugar

1 tsp vanilla sugar

4 tbsp good cocoa powder

½ cup flour

½ cup melted butter

100 gm nuts (optional)

Mix all the ingredients with an electric mixer only until blended.  Be careful not to overbeat!  Pour onto a wax paper lined round or rectangular tin.

If using nuts, lightly butter the paper and then press the nuts into it.  Por the mixture over it.

Bake at 350° F/200°C for 30 minutes. Remove and let it cool.  Invert the cake over a plate to serve.

   How Do You Mend a Broken Heart?

 

You meet them every where.  The ones with the battle scars.  From a relationship gone wrong, a job lost and never regained, the death of a beloved, those traumatic childhood memories that never seem to go away.  The causes are many and varied.  Some wear these scars with pride.  Like medals of honour.  Some carry them like a yoke, shoulders heavy with the burden, unable or unwilling to be consoled.  Still some others bear them like a coat of armour.  Steeled against pain, even against joy.  Unforgiving.

The deepest cuts are the ones made by the people on whom one has invested a lot of time and caring on.  Childhood friends, colleagues at work, acquaintances made through the course of living, family… wounds of the heart.

I know I am one of the battle scarred. I like to think that I wear the lesions with dignity and pride.  Grateful not only for having survived but also for the lessons each of those experiences have taught me.

 Each of us carries a mended heart.   My heart has been broken and mended so many times, I wonder if it can take any more.  But it can. 

For in my world, there is nothing perfect.  Certainly not me.  In my world, there is very good, good, ok, so-so, just about right and lots of try-again-next-time. Perfection like Never-land is so confining.  When there is no room for error, where can one go?

I am certain that along the road of my nearly 64 years, I too have caused pain to some one else.  I know that I would never do this on purpose.   But it happens in spite of my ever-guilty Catholic heart and years of trying to be the “good girl”.  

 Then there are those incidents I call my devil-made-me-do-it moments, when I have had to take a stand and refuse to be another casualty. (Albeit, the act itself sometimes hurts more than just taking the beating.)

How does one mend a broken heart? 

With love.  Of one’s self, helped along with the love of the people who matter most.  I like to think that my battle-scarred heart lives on because I have not given up.  I still open myself to new experiences and friendships, while I  allow the old ones to mature and become part of who I am.  Imperfect.  Yet not impenetrable.

 Here's a hearty meal for a family dinner which can be doubled and tripled for a big Sunday lunch or a festive  buffet!

                    Creamy Enchilada

8 flour or corn tortillas

The Filling :

3 tbsp. butter

1 big onion, chopped

2 chicken breasts, boiled and shredded (leftover chicken is fine too!)

1 cup salsa (store bought or homemade)

1 pack cream cheese

1 tbsp. cumin powder

1/2 cup grated cheese

The Topping :

1 cup (or less) leftover chicken-cream mix

½ cup salsa

1 pack cream cheese

½ cup water or chicken broth

To make the filling : 

Saute the onions in butter till soft.  Stir in the chicken.  Pour in 1 cup salsa.  Mix well. Add the cream cheese and cumin.  Season with more salt or chili powder according to your taste. Remove from heat and add ½ cup grated cheese. 

Set aside about a cup of chicken mixture.

In a separate pan, heat the tortillas till they are soft. 

Butter or oil the bottom of an oven-proof dish. 

Place about 3 tbsps chicken mix in each tortilla and roll.  Lay them in the baking dish and cover with the following topping. 

To make the topping :

Mix and heat through : 1 cup chicken-cream mixture, salsa, cream cheese, and water or chicken broth. Add more water or broth if the mixture is too thick. Taste and add salt or spices according to your taste. Pour over the tortillas. 

Sprinkle cheese generously on top and bake for about 30 minutes in 200 C/350 F or until golden brown.

Serve with a salad and a cold beer or a glass of wine!

This can be made a day ahead and baked just before serving or it can be frozen and baked when needed. 

Just over a year ago, I started this blogspot.  It took a lot of courage to get out from behind that curtain and face the music. But I did. 

And then, I froze.  Faced by a wall of my own making and a blank sheet with so much to say, yet unable to put it down. 

Now here I am again trying to crawl out of the hole I put myself in.  Cowered by the events that are taking place all around me.  Things I can not do much about - like climate change and this winter which really feels more like spring; the religious wars in the Middle East; the hundreds of thousands of refugees coming onto European soil; the Zika Virus carrying-mosquito in Brazil where my daughter has planned to spend her summer vacation; the house in Hilversum that I would like my son and his family to live in, except they want to stay in Amsterdam.

Unlike Atlas, I will have to put the worries of the world down and concentrate on the things that are relevant to me.  Daily.  Not globally.  There are enough brilliant people (as well as some not so) taking care of that .

 These are what matter .. to  Alma. 

 

   The Trouble with Never-land

The beginning or the end of each year seems to be I-Will time.  I will lose 10 kgs before the summer to be able to get into my bathing suit . I will read The Economist faithfully every week so that I will be more informed about world affairs.   I will bake my Christmas cakes in August so that they will be really drunk with rum by December.  I will empty my wardrobe of clothes I have not worn in the last 10 years so I can buy more 2016-looking clothes.

And then there are the Never-Wills.  I will never eat chocolate again.  I will never have my hair cut by that hairdresser again.   I will never volunteer to do any thing again.  I will never interfere in my children’s lives again.   I will never lay myself open to hurt again. 

And the list goes on….

The trouble with Never-Wills is that -  You Just May Again.  I-Wills are easy.  You can always defer to tomorrow or even next year. 

But well, Never Will is so permanent.  They are carved in stone.  Like the Ten Commandments.  

Never-land is confining.  In Never-land, you are a captive of your own self.  There is no room for escape.  Not even second chances. In the end, all you really have is an emptiness that is hard to fill. Maybe even Never?

My mother, a very practical woman,  always told me – write your ultimatums on water instead.  Because life can not be measured in finite quantities. Nor does it have boundaries,  much like love and friendship. We all have our visions of what love is or what friendship must be. But love and friendships are fluid.  Always moving, changing its course often, reshaping its surroundings as it goes.  Seeking the big endless ocean.  Of Forever More.

Will I eat chocolate again?  Yes, but I will be careful.  I will make sure it is worth the after effects of my lactose intolerance. At least 70% real chocolate studded with nuts. Yum!

 Will I have my hair trimmed by that lady again?   Maybe, but I will be careful.  I will make sure to tell her what I want done and ask her how much it will cost.  No more surprises.   

Will I volunteer to do anything again?  Yes, but I will be careful. I will make sure that I make room for someone else to take over and allow myself the luxury of being helped.  

 Will I interfere in my children’s lives again?  You bet!  But I will be careful not to be overbearing.  I will allow them to make their mistakes just as I have made mine.  And yes, I will make sure  to always let them know that their Dad and I are constantly there in the wings, ready to help when asked.  

 Will I allow myself to be hurt again?  Of course, I will.  But I will be careful not to bare my soul to a person I have just met.  I will take the time to let a friendship develop. And, I will try not to expect my friends, old and new, to fit into the definition of friendship that I have set for my self.

Am I never going to Never-land again? 

Maybe. But I will tread ever so carefully.

High Expectations   Letting Go!!

I have been writing and re-writing this blog in my head for a long time.  I have written various versions while walking to work, chopping vegetables in my kitchen, ironing bed sheets. I have written down different opening lines and endings, but the middle bit has been hard to put down. 

Much like my blog about the doormat, the content is just so personal.  And painful.

Today, I realized while taking another long walk, that the reason why it was so difficult to write was the title I had given it – High Expectations. 

Time and the walk (in fact, a lot of time and walks and moments of  introspection) made me realize that high expectations result in futility.  Because, what I really should be doing is – Letting Go!

Yes – letting go.  Of things which I can not control or change.  Like the decisions my children make; promises that are not kept; friends who move on to other friends or to other stages in their lives; dreams that have passed their sell-by-date.

I accept  that I raised my kids to be independent human beings.  I started them on that path the moment they took their first step.  I accept that sometimes people make promises because at that moment, it seems feasible and right.  But the moment passes and is forgotten.  I accept that friends move on.  People change along with the circumstances in their lives and the adjustment may no longer include me.  I accept that many of my so-called dreams may have reached a point of un-attainability.

So, I settle.   I settle for imessage photos of my daughter’s Sardinian vacation and my son’s quick hellos.  I know that I am still part of their lives. I settle for the promises that are kept and file the ones that are not, in a box called Forgive.  I settle for and cherish the people who are around me; and keep the ones who have moved on in a safe place in my heart. I settle for the realities of today knowing that I have given my dreams a try and success is not always measurable.

And …. I celebrate  the love that I know my husband and my children have for me.  Even though some days I wish they would actually tell me.  But in my heart I know, and will always know, they do. I celebrate the friendships I have made in every country I have lived in. I celebrate that undeniable bond of kinship that I share with my family in Manila.  I celebrate the link which my blogs have created with the many people whose lives have touched mine.  And mine, theirs. I celebrate every line and wrinkle in my brow, every age spot all along my body.  Each one is testimony to a life that is lived.  A life filled with joy and pain, and enriched with countless beautiful experiences and memories.  Every single day.

 Yes, I can happily let go!! 

Here's a real simple, every day recipe for one of those days when you really do not want to work so hard in the kitchen.

Minced Meat with Chick Peas

1 kg. minced meat (beef, beef and pork, lamb or chicken)

3 tbsp. olive oil

2 cloves garlic

1 big onion, chopped

1 tin tomatoes

1 tbsp. tomato paste

a dash of sugar, salt & pepper,  chicken, beef or vegetable bouillon

1 tin chick peas

2 hard boiled eggs, chopped (as garnish)

Saute garlic and onions in olive oil. Add meat.  Cook till all the meat is brown.  Pour in the tomatoes and tomato paste.  Allow to boil and then simmer for about 15 minutes.  While simmering, add the sugar and spices and the bouillon cube.  Mix in the chick peas.  Cook through for another 5 or more minutes.  Check the seasonings.

Top with the chopped hard boiled eggs just before serving.

This is a simple family meal which can be cooked and frozen to be served another day. It goes well with rice, potatoes - fried or mashed, or couscous.

Vanity Fair 

 

Last night I took one of those Facebook quizzes – At What Age Will You Actually Be Before You are Old?  The answer was 17.  The answer came as a shock at first, but its validity is slowly becoming apparent to me.

As I face the mirror wondering whether I should continue coloring my hair or allow it to grow back into the shade of gray that it should be at my age, I am once again confronted with the fact that this time – I am actually old.  As my sister-in-law said to my face: who are you trying to fool?

No one, really.  Just my self.  My vanities.  Thinking of the young girl inside me who refuses to grow old and probably never will. The one who still dreams, still cries at sad movies and enjoys a naughty joke.  The one who still believes in love and a God who made the world and who will eventually make things right.

And yet, my colleagues in school are even younger than my daughter; my visits to the doctor (and to the bathroom!) more frequent and the parties I go to are more likely to be golden anniversaries than weddings.  Let’s not talk about the beautiful clothes still wrapped in drycleaner’s plastic that are hanging in my closet waiting to be worn when I go back to size 34! 

When did I grow old?? Was it really at 17?  Or was it at 22 when I learned of my father’s death from a letter sent by my best friend while sitting alone in a cold apartment in Amsterdam?  Or at 51 when Louis lost his job and we had to readjust to a new reality and an uncertain future?  

Funny that I equate growing old with dramatic life-changing incidents. 

And yet, in my mind I associate coming of age with the joyful events in my life – the way my father made each birthday a family ritual; getting married at 21 in a simple church ceremony with my girlfriends singing my favorite Carpenters songs in the background; at 25, coming home to Manila to deliver our first born; the tears of joy when we found out that we were to have another child at 34….  The list, just like the years, goes on.

So should I turn gray or keep going different shades of brown?  The action is still on hold.  I have booked the appointment for the 16^th of December.  Then the expensive process of growing gray will officially take place.  Until that day comes, I am taking a friendly survey – so far, half of my friends say, go for it!  while the other half  are screaming – oh, please don’t!

Meanwhile, I’m checking out wigs, make-up for white-haired (not gray for us dark-skinned folks!) women and the possibility of hibernating in some dark hole till all the roots come out.

Louis says: I’ll love you any way.

A reassuring sentiment; but … will I love me anyway in shades of gray?

I  made this recipe a few days ago because I had some leftover vegetables and few other bits in the fridge. My grandson loved it! 

 

Vegetable  Fritter

Ingredients :

1 big carrot, peeled and cut into matchsticks

1 cup shredded cabbage

1 onion, sliced fine

1 cup, shredded zucchini (for this recipe, I used leftover sautéed broccoli)

1 cup flour plus 1 tsp. baking powder or 1 cup self-raising flour

1 clove garlic, pressed

1 egg

¼ cup water

salt and pepper

Procedure :    Mix flour, baking powder, egg and water.  Season with salt and pepper.  Add all the vegetables.  Mix thoroughly.  Chill till ready to fry.

To cook :  Heat oil in a frying pan, drop the mixture by spoonfuls.  Flatten each spoonful and cook till brown and crispy.

Serve immediately with your choice of dipping sauce : soy sauce with a touch of vinegar and spring onions, hot chili sauce, catsup or aioli.

Other vegetable options : canned or freshly grated corn, grated sweet or normal potatoes,  finely sliced French beans.  I think it is also a great way to use up those little bits of vegetables leftover from a meal.  If you chop them up and mix them into the batter, they will come out crispy.   No one will ever know it’s a leftover remake.