recipe
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For the last two months I’ve been working as a full time cheesemonger in training, and one of the best parts of my job is that once a week, while I clean cheese offcuts or work on wrapping quarter wheels of Gouda with saran, I catch a whiff of that smell coming from the kitchen…
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When I was living in Denmark, I was introduced to the daily ginger shot. I stopped at Next Door Cafe every morning on my way to class for three ounces of straight blended ginger and lemon. I didnt get sick for months. Ever since, I’ve been a do or die ginger shot girl.
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I’m trying to honor the stress that still bubbles deep down inside. I don’t have a job, the world hurts, this autumn will be filled with big messy choices. And all of that is okay. And all of that will be part of how I grow.
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I’m deprived (gladly, though they were delicious) of salted roasted peanuts and seasoned pistachios. Instead, I’ve been spent nearly six years mixing it up. Literally. I’ve tried it all… roasted edamame, every type of chocolate, a million forms of seeds. Finally, I think I’ve found the formula.
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Looking ahead, I wonder what is next. Will our jalapeño plants produce a few more peppers? Will we get a warm start to autumn? Will I find a job? I’m not sure of any of it, but I relish being in the in-between.
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I thrive in a space where I can drop boundaries. A place where I can let go. Cooking, eating, sharing… it’s simple, no matter how intricate the attempted product. It feels so easy. Just like my queerness.
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By way of my mom, my Grampa instilled in me a love of classic old Jewish tradition, and that included Mun, a poppyseed paste filling for traditional Hamantaschen. Sure, you can find raspberry and apricot and chocolate hamantaschen by the dozen every year, but my heart is set on Mun.
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We are using food to connect with Alex’s full identity in ways that put his allergies AND his identity together at the forefront of our effort. Embedding mindfulness into our adventure with big and yummy goals. And damn, it’s been delicious.
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Monday evening, intoxicated by the smell of grilling burgers and dogs along the marathon route and in back yards all over town, we invited my sister over for a cook-out. Or, as close as we can get to a cook-out with a cast iron on an indoor stove.
The Noshers Nest 