Confirming Vegetarianism (with an earthy theme)

A friend visiting yesterday offered to cook dinner (can I hear an "alleluia"!?). We plucked two bags of shrimp from the deep freeze in the garage. I'd been saving them to share with someone who really loved shrimp and/or could prepare a delicious dish from them; what's more, since I've been moving toward a more vegetarian diet, I thought I'd better partake of those shrimp sooner rather than later. This seemed like perfect timing.

I started thawing the shrimp in the sink while she chopped garlic and onions and formed them into mounds on the cutting board, pulled half a lemon from the fridge, and uncorked some white wine. Already I could see that I would love the meal.

She finished mincing and dicing and announced that the best use of our time would be to devein the shrimp. Oh, yes, I forgot. These shrimp had been brought straight from a shrimper in South Carolina a few months ago frozen rock solid in those bags and stuffed into my carryon baggage. They were not farm raised. They would have, um, digestive tracts to remove.

We pulled out paring knives to do the dirty work. We peeled the shells, then ran the knives along the tracts, pulling the slimy line of crud from the creatures. As I did this to shrimp after shrimp, I resolved to savor this meal, as it may be my last shrimp dish for a long, long time. That time-consuming and unpleasant task confirmed my decision to move toward vegetarianism. As I slid out those wormy lines and wiped them onto the dish of leavings, I made a decision: I really don't want to eat food that has digested food of its own. To put it bluntly, I'm not going to eat anything that poops.

My friend sauteed those shrimp and whipped up that sauce--boy, could she cook. Thanks to her, we enjoyed a most excellent "last supper": Shrimp in wine sauce, with a side dish of risotto. Risotto! Yes, that girl can cook!

A day later, the shrimp are now gone, themselves fully digested. There is some delicious leftover risotto in the fridge, however, and according to my friend it is an excellent dish for a vegetarian diet. She fixed it with mushrooms, asparagus and a little tomato--all vegetables--none of which, if I might point out the obvious, poops.

Mad Hot Ballroom

Rush out and see this at your local arts theater!

http://www.paramountclassics.com/madhot/

30 Days

Morgan Spurlock's "30 Days" is on FX tonight.

Here's the link to info about the show if you want to know showtimes (it's 9 & 10 o'clock in my time zone). They show it twice, so if you miss it the first time around you have a second chance.

http://www.fxnetworks.com/shows/originals/30days/main.html

Then I was clicking around and found that he has a blog about it, and in the blog he gave the name of that free store that was so neat. I mentioned the store in my blog--it's inspired me to have some discussions with friends about whether we might be able to at least do a free garage sale or something like it. As we brainstormed, we realized we had lots of questions about how to go about it, and I thought, "Hm, maybe I could figure out the name of that free store in Spurlock's show. If I talked to them, they could give me ideas on how to get started." Lo and behold, the contact information is right there in Spurlock's blog. He also explained what they did with the stuff that they received from the free store, and what happened to their apartment. You should read what he wrote. It's pretty cool.

http://blogs.indiewire.com/morganspurlock/

Oh, I just want to add that he gave a commencement speech and posted the transcript on his blog, too. It's worth a read:

http://blogs.indiewire.com/morganspurlock/archives/004115.html#more

Spidey

(Thought I'd try a title for once)

Two weeks ago we caught "Spider-Man" on TV. I enjoyed it so much, I couldn't wait for a free night to rent the sequel, so we finally discovered we had Sunday evening available. After watching "Spider-Man 2" two nights ago, I liked it so much that I watched it again last night! Now I do have a slightly embarrassing history of enjoying (in my youth even obsessing over) superheroes, I'll admit, but I was particularly curious to see "Spider-Man 2" in light of this brief analysis:

Spider-Man 2
directed by Sam Raimi
In some ways, this film is The Passion redux in its allegorical imagery. Peter Parker goes through his own Gethsemane: Does he really want to go through all the suffering to be a savior? There's even a "demon" (a doctor dressed in white) who tempts Peter to give it up and just be a regular guy, and a "ministering angel" (Luke 22:43) who shows up as gawky girl next door with milk and chocolate cake. But the most stunning allegorical image comes when Spidey saves a runaway train, arms outstretched in a crucified position, holes in his wrists and a wound in his side. When the train stops, Spidey's head drops, chin to chest, lifeless. Witnesses carry his prone body over their heads, into the train (a tomb?), and place him gently on the floor. "Is he dead?" someone asks. Then Peter wakes up--"resurrected"--with more lives to save and an 8-legged demon (aka Doctor Octopus) to defeat.

That excerpt can be found at the following link (which lists, as you can see, the ten most redeeming films of 2004, as decided by folks at Christianity Today magazine):

http://www.christianitytoday.com/movies/commentaries/tenredeemingfilmsof2004.html

At first I wanted to say in response to that Christianity Today writer, "Come on, man, you're reading way too much into it." But frankly, after watching it, it's there. I'm not going to say that Sam Raimi purposefully placed them there, because I don't know, but those connections to Christ are all represented--even the "ministering angel." The "crucifixion" scene is clearly intentional, so it's not too outrageous to consider the possibility that they wanted all those elements in the film. Spidey as Christ-figure? It's there.

So while I still love films like "Hotel Rwanda" (which appears on the same list of redeeming films) there is something deep in my psyche that gets sucked into a larger-than-life superhero movie. Apart from all the Christian symbolism and analysis, I thought Tobey Maguire was genius casting and played Spidey/Peter perfectly, the story proved to be strong, and I can't wait for "Spider-Man 3."

Unfortunately, I have no choice but to wait, and wait for some time: It doesn't come out until 2007.

Today I picked up a used Shawn Colvin CD. As soon as I started the car, I stuck it in for the drive home. The opening song was her rendition of "Every Little Thing," an old song I know well. After the first stanza I decided I could follow her stylistic choices well enough and started singing along: "Do I have to tell the story/of a thousand rainy days since we first met/it's a big enough umbrella/but it's always me who ends up getting wet..."

About a minute into my joining her, my 3yo son exclaimed, "Wow, Mama, you know all the words to this song already?" Evidently he thought I magically anticipated all those phrases of what to him was a brand-new song. I glanced in the mirror to see his eyebrows raised and mouth slightly open in the surprise of unexpected admiration, at least that's how I interpreted it.

"She's singing a song I learned a long time ago," I explained. "I won't know the next one."

"Oh." Eyebrows returned to normal, mouth shut, unimpressed.

Mom's not got psychic talent after all. Nope, I'm just an old fan of Sting. Sorry to disappoint.

Last night we watched "30 Days," a new show that premiered on the cable station FX, created by Morgan Spurlock of "Supersize Me." He and his fiance starred in the first episode. The concept is to step into someone else's shoes for 30 days, understand their world, struggle through their issues, seek to understand, and depending on that person's world, have a little fun, perhaps or discover some new interests.

Spurlock and his fiance lived on minimum wage for 30 days. They packed some backpacks and headed off to Columbus, Ohio, for reasons they explained in the show. Then they tried to find an apartment they would be able to afford on their new income. And then, they tried to find income. Spurlock is an engaging personality in my opinion, so when he talks about his day or comments on a situation, I'm there. I'm with him. The reviewer I heard on the radio that alerted me to this new show said that future episodes have other people put into different situations, and Spurlock is just the host. Those aren't quite as delightful as the first, but the concept is still great--to stretch people outside their comfort zone. Purposefully they place people in situations drastically different from their own "normal," so some shows will have a Christian living with a Muslim family, a straight man working at a gay bar, a teetotaler hanging out with binge-drinking college students.

The show is documentary style, so in that respect it isn't exactly the reality show concept (though close). Spurlock does seem to want to inform and educate as we also observe and commiserate. He provides background information and looks up related facts to help us understand a given situation. For instance, he and his fiance have no kids, so when he talked with his brother once by phone during the 30 days, his brother said, "You should try it with kids." So he shared facts about how many more expenses a family has, and how hard that is for families with kids. One of the guys he rode to work with had a family. That guy was trying to make it on minimum wage alone.

When Spurlock's girlfriend had an infection and couldn't work her job at a coffee shop, Spurlock worked two extra jobs to try to make up the difference (and cover the emergency room bill). At the end, when reviewing their bills, it seemed they were most disgusted with the medical bills. He had a wrist injury causing his arm to swell while he was working as a landscaper, so he went to the emergency room (the free clinics didn't have enough staff to see him). They charged him $40 for an ace bandage that they used to wrap his wrist. The visit itself was around $400. How is anyone who is working for minimum wage with no medical benefits supposed to take care of themselves, he demanded? I suppose they just don't go to the doctor. They wrap their own arms and hope for the best.

One touching scene for me was when they had been in their apartment several days with no furniture, eating on the floor, sleeping in sleeping bags on the floor. Then they learned that there was a church just two blocks away that had a free store for needy people. There were smiling volunteers offering free baked goods and coffee, and dozens of couches and chairs, tables, beds, clothes--nice looking clothes--household items like pots and pans, plates and cups and silverware. They were teary eyed at the obvious generosity of that congregation and the program. I was impressed with how well-run it was, and how much great looking stuff had been donated. The man who ran the store said something like, "There's enough to share. There's enough for everybody." I thought about our Goodwill store, filled to the brim with bins behind the doors with three times what is out for sale, waiting to be sorted. There is enough to share. There's enough for everybody. So why do people have to go without?

The most disturbing portion was when they talked about a bill that has gone to Congress several times proposing that we raise minimum wage to reflect the rising cost of living. There was an expert explaining that it doesn't work to do that, and said that it wouldn't work, it would undermine the economy. I don't know anything about economics, but it was disturbing to see that those same politicians who voted "no" to raising the minimum wage did vote to raise their own salaries to reflect the rising cost of living.

I kept thinking about that book that came out several years ago, Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting by in America, by Barbara Ehrenreich.
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0805063897/ref=pd_sxp_f/104-2064230-8439104?v=glance&s=books

(I can't figure out how to do links in this Blogger thing yet)

She took low-income jobs across America, making the same depressing, sometimes horrifying, discoveries.

How can we walk in another person's shoes like Spurlock and Ehrenreich have? Watching his show and reading her book and finding others like that is a start. I'm still trying to read about Rwanda, hoping that if I gain even a hint of the suffering and madness of Rwanda, perhaps I'll have a fleeting glimpse of many other struggling nations on that continent. Seeing "30 Days" reminded me that to appreciate the ups and downs of every human being, a few days, even a few minutes, in their world would probably do me good.

This is not about Belgian food, but it is about food.

Years ago, I decided to become a vegetarian. I read Frances Moore Lappe's Diet for a Small Planet and some other books on the topic, and they made an impression. I was an idealist, also an adolescent, and wanted to do what I could to change the world, and eating grains in lieu of beef was a small contribution. Plus, I read that it was healthier to eat that way. It was a little awkward, however, since my dad raised beef cattle.

My mom was very patient with what the family considered my "phases" and supported my decision as best she could. As I headed into the vegetarian phase, she would do what she could to accommodate it, within reason. She wasn't going to go out and buy eggplant or anything, but she might fix an extra side dish with me in mind. At restaurants, I would order the vegetarian options and thus taste some of those stereotypical vegetarian dishes made with lentils or tofu, sprouts or avocado.

On and off during my college and post-college days, I would try a few of those old vegetarian combinations, leafing through cookbooks, making something new. When I married, I made a few dishes, but my Belgian-born-and-raised husband preferred meat and potatoes of some kind, so when I set down something with eggplant and mushrooms, he ate it, but didn't ask me to put it in the recipe file.

It has been years since I've eaten totally vegetarian fare. Now that I'm cooking for four picky eaters who happen to like meat, I have definitely become more meat-and-potatoes minded when planning meals, so when I recently decided to move toward that kind of a diet again, I discovered some old friends: Two days ago, I fixed a pita bread sandwich with hummus spread, fresh tomato, avocado and alfalfa sprouts. I'd forgotten those flavors and textures, the colors, the crunch. Oh, boy, had I made a great decision! I had an excuse to make things that I loved, to accommodate my vegetarian choices. I made a quiche the other day (I allow eggs and dairy)--I love quiche!

I found a box in the basement that contained a few vegetarian cookbooks from my ancient past, and picked up a few newer books from my friendly neighborhood library. I let out a contented sigh as I reviewed ingredients I once knew and ingested. On my last grocery store outing, I bought an eggplant, a bunch of grains and beans, and some soups. I skipped the chicken dish I baked last night for the kids and ate miso soup instead. Yum! It was very satisfying--really!

I doubt if my decision will change anyone or anything. My own kids will probably still want hamburgers, hotdogs, and chicken nuggets, as much as those things can be considered food (hamburgers yes, but hotdogs and nuggets? I'm not so sure...), and I know my husband will only eat the eggplant to appease me. I won't force this on anyone, which means I'll still be buying and preparing meat for them. But as for me, I'm going to eat sprouts and fresh tomatoes, yes I am. I'm going cut up an avocado as soon as I finish this blog, as a matter of fact, and make another of those pita sandwiches.

You know, you might consider a vegetarian diet if you ever read Fast Food Nation, which I mentioned many blogs ago. It provides an inside look at the chicken and beef industry. At the end of the beef chapter, I felt both like weeping and throwing up.

In the end, I must admit, a little vanity might be a contributing factor for me as well. You see, if I were to be completely honest, I had a hunch that I would lose weight, and I think I might be. I mean, I am. So you might consider it for that reason as well. Maybe we can change the world, maybe not. At the very least, we might shed a pound or two.

This has absolutely nothing to do with the contemplative life, or motherhood. In fact, it is more about that fascinating topic I can't write enough about: Belgian food. Now, I hate to complain, but this evening my husband and I ate at a restaurant in town supposedly bringing Belgian food to our fair city. They served what they called "frites," but they tasted like seasoned fries I've ordered from many chain restaurants; in fact, they were nothing like the Belgian frites I've tasted. I'd have been better off ordering a big packet of Wendy's fries. I kept thinking about the frozen fries I prepared for my kids in the oven before we left for our evening, and even those were more like Belgian frites than the ones I was eating at the restaurant. I ate them anyway, because they were there. The sauces were nice, but none was a Belgian sauce except for mayonnaise. I kept thinking of those McCain "Mash Bites," a.k.a. croquettes, and thought the restaurant might want to see if they could get a big crate of those delivered as a more authentic option. They'd be more Belgian than those crunchy, seasoned fries. When we arrived, our friends said of my husband, "This guy's a real Belgian." The waitress glanced down and said in a bored voice, as if all the customers claim to be real Belgians and she didn't believe it and certainly didn't care, "Oh, a real-live Belgian." She took our drink orders without comment, and didn't smile the entire evening.

A bunch of people told me I must read Blue Like Jazz. Sometimes when a bunch of people tell me I need to read or do something, I listen and try to do it right away. Other times, and I don't know why, I resist. I guess I'm a little bit of a noncomformist wannabe. At any rate, it's been years since the most people insisted on my getting a copy of this book by Donald Miller. I must have been in my noncomformist phase--I didn't buy it. Then recently, like in the last couple of months, it's come up a few more times with a few more people. I guess I was in my listen-and-do-it phase, because I secured a copy. It took a while, because I'm cheap and I wanted to find it used, which I did. I found it through half.com, I think, or maybe Amazon's used section. Anyway, I'm reading it.

At first I was critical, probably because so many people were raving about it. I thought he overused metaphors, that he was too self-aware, that his writing had that trying-too-hard feel to it. Perhaps I've gotten used to that style, or maybe he changed over the course of the book and I'm not paying attention. At any rate, I'm starting to kind of enjoy it. He's self-deprecating, which is a little bit like what I do. He seems kind of insecure at times, as am I. Maybe I'm just finding a comrade, a friend, someone I can relate to. For that matter, maybe I overuse metaphors, too. They say when you critize someone, it's often because you're guilty of the same thing. Maybe I've got a log dangling from my eyes, while picking at the little fleck in his.

I wonder why it came so highly recommended. I mean, people said, "Oh, Ann, you have got to read this book. You will love it!" Do they think I overuse metaphors, too? Do they think I'm as sarcastic and self-deprecating as Miller? Maybe they think I'm really cool and postmodern, which is what I think Miller is billed as. He's unconventional, for Christian circles, and very honest and real and earthy. Do they think I'm like that, or I should become more like that?

Cool is not the goal, but honest and real would be good. And I must admit, something about growing up on a farm has made me kind of earthy. When you shovel manure, you know, that experience settles deep inside one's psyche.

Someone suggested I try to write sort of like Anne Lamott, or Lauren Winner. I was greatly flattered that they thought I had it in me to pull that off. I tried. I did, I tried to write some stuff like that, but it turned out self-aware and trying-too-hard. It was unpublishable, not because of content, but because of style. It was bad.

Perhaps I'll just be an appreciative reader of those ladies, and Miller, too, never quite pulling off that spunky, outspoken, yet humbly authentic and self-deprecating style. Besides, I want to find my own style, whatever that may be. But authentic and honest, that should be all of us, right? Shouldn't everyone who writes, whether it's a letter or a book, write authentically and honestly?