stealing joy

Wow, it's been a while since I've posted anything here. The longest yet. I've been thinking a lot about writing lately - writing or reading poetry and short stories, writing as a means of understanding medicine and human interactions. I want to delve into the newly-discovered world of narrative medicine. I should have some time to do so in the coming months, so we will see how far that goes.

In the meantime summer ended. The farmer's market made it's transition from strawberries and asparagus, to every green thing imaginable and berries, to squash and apples, and now it's gone. A chilly August was followed by a warm September and October (relatively speaking), but November  was ushered in with a freeze and I harvested all our potted herbs. The rosebush remains, two buds debating whether or not to bloom. My cooking followed the market trend. Transitioning from salads and things like these noodles to roasted squash, bean stews and all kinds of things with miso. The leaves turned and have almost all fallen, sweaters have migrated to the front of the closet, and I've initiated a daily ten minutes of sitting beside my SAD lamp. Autumn is verging on winter and I am determined to enjoy it by relishing in coziness as much as possible. I'm talking double socks, fun hats and scarves, casseroles and cookies, bubble baths, steam room at the gym, hot tea, poems like "November Night" by Adelaide Crapsey:

Listen. . 
With faint dry sound,
Like steps of passing ghosts,
The leaves, frost-crisp'd, break from the trees
And fall.

We already had our first snowfall, just a few days ago, it collected and stayed on the ground the whole next day, despite the brightly shining sun, deceptively not warming things up.

Actually, the first snowfall I saw was in October, but most people were asleep and it barely touched the ground before melting. I saw this beautiful snow - barely a fall at all, really a light drifting down, like a feather or crepe paper confetti - because I was up in the middle of the night on the labor and delivery floor of a community hospital, helping/learning how to deliver babies. Delivering a baby is one of the most magical experience I've ever had, and I struggle to describe it adequately. One doctor said it was like "stealing joy". There is something accurate about this, as it indicates that the doctor is still somewhat removed from this new family being formed. An integral part of the experience but ready to transform into bystander as soon as the whole visceral process is over. If you think of joy as something that is not diminished by being shared, but rather increases, then it sounds even more fitting.

But it's more than just the joy of new life (what a presumptive thing to say, just). It's the entirety of this most ancient ritual, born of complete necessity, drenched in blood and vernix (lit. 'fragrant resin'). The hours of the mother contracting, dilating, effacing, breathing. Teaching your gloved fingers to feel blindly for cervix and station, like digging through a bag  of cotton balls trying to find the one that is slightly softer. The absolute miracle of a newborn maneuvering through the cardinal movements of birth, filling his water-clogged lungs with air, remodeling his entire vascular system. A fish becoming a bird. When things go perfectly smoothly, it's seems the baby would have slithered out whether your hands were there guiding him or not (which does occasionally happen even in a hospital!).

That night, minutes after the baby was born, the nurse looked out the window and remarked, we had a little snow angel on our hands. I've delivered four babies so far. And yes, I am most definitely keeping count.

veggie nachos

I took 4 weeks off from clinical rotations last month to study for Step 2 of the medical licensing exam. You might remember me talking about Step 1 last summer, which was much more traumatic. Step 1 seemed like a huge hurdle to overcome on this path to becoming a doctor. By the time Step 2 rolled around, I realized the whole track is filled with hurdles. To keep that metaphor going, it really does remind me of when I did the hurdles on my high school track team. The first hurdle was terrifying, coming out of the blocks and the brief seconds leading up to the first leap. But once I made that first one, I found this rhythm - step, step, hurdle, step, step, hurdle - and the hurdles became less of an obstacle and more just a part of the way I ran. In some ways, medical education is like that. I know that I will continue to face small daily challenges, occasional monumental ones, and everything in between, which allows a sort of rhythm and acceptance.

During that month of studying, alone, day after day, alone, I wrote this on the edge of a to-do list:

I can already feel
how when it's all over
I'll look back
and say,
"It wasn't so bad, really."

In hindsight that sounds like a reassuring realization, but at the time it wasn't. At the time it seemed devastating. Because it meant that I would be brushing off one of those challenges as if I had accomplished nothing, telling my friends "you'll be fine, it's not so bad", and leaving them to feel alone when the the hurdle looked a little bit too high off there in the distance. We do this to ourselves over and over, and it's one of the unexpected ways that medical school has struck me as an emotional challenge.

The more I think of this though, the more I think it's actually a sign of something really good. When we stand at the finish line and look back at the hurdles we crossed, they don't look nearly as threatening because we know we just made it over all of them. And it's natural to say that it was worth it all - the fear, the planning, the training, the sacrifices - because we are doing exactly what we were meant to be doing, what we signed up for, what we are called to. So now when I look back at my weeks of studying, I see that those days took on a beautiful cycle. Each morning I woke up, made a smoothie, studied, went to a yoga class, made a tomato sandwich or salad for lunch, studied, practiced mindfulness meditation, studied, made mushrooms and greens for dinner, studied, read something non-medical, went to sleep. There was very little variance to that schedule and that type of life works really nicely for me. I haven't made it to a yoga class since, and my mindfulness practice has nearly disappeared.

But I am not here to complain. I am here to remind myself that that was good, but impractical for today. I am here to say that I will find a way to keep some of those things in my life no matter what else is going on.

The one thing that is easiest for me to keep around, and to keep myself connected to a sense of wellness is food. Going to the farmers' market, keeping a fridge full of produce, and eating fresh wholesome meals at least twice a day are things that I have managed to maintain. One of my favorite meals this summer is vegetarian nachos. They are quick and easy, there is no need to follow a recipe once you get the idea, and it's an easy way to use up whatever happens to be on hand. The combination I had yesterday was particularly stellar, so I decided it was time to share it with you. And I'd love to hear, what is the thing that keeps you connected to yourself when life starts to get in the way?

Vegetarian Nachos for 2:
Blue corn tortilla chips
4 oz. ground seitan (My favorite is Upton's chorizo)
1/4 cup red onion, diced
1 handful chopped kale
1/2 a zucchini, sliced into thin half-moons
1 avocado, peeled & sliced
1/4 cup crumbled feta
Tomatillo salsa, to taste (I used this one)

Heat a bit of oil in a small pain over low heat and add the seitan, stir occasionally, cook until warm.

Meanwhile, spread some chips out onto a plate. Layer on the already chopped veggies, the seitan, the avocado, and the feta. Finally top with salsa to taste.

Enjoy with a Corona and lime on the patio and savor the remaining days of this fleeting summer.

still winter...

Remember last March?

With it's unseasonably warm days, bright blue skies, and sunshine. Well, it's not like that this year. It's still cold - freezing, even. When it rains, it's a mixture of rain and snow and sleet. And I have to keep telling myself that spring will come eventually. It must, right?

Any survival tips?

first day of fall

Today is the autumn equinox. I enjoyed it with doughnuts and coffee at the farmer's market. A cool breeze announced the new season's arrival, but the sunshine helped to balance out my premature Christmas song reflex (in Houston, 46 F is a perfectly acceptable late December temperature).  Apples, butternut squash, and fava beans made their way into my bag and I can't wait to cook up some savory dishes. Along with autumnal flavors and cozy sweaters, I always find myself craving some good jazz music this time of year, especially Vince Guaraldi. I'm not sure why, it just always happens.

the fifth season

Since moving up here from Texas, I have delighted in the changing seasons, and written about them quite a bit here. They change the way one experiences the world - looking forward to summer means something new entirely. It's not just time off from school, it's sunshine and greenness and fresh berries. Certainly this made my mother's childhood somewhat different from my own. Here, I savor the heat; back home it was something I tried to avoid. Well, I just want to add onto my other seasonal revelations that I have discovered that perhaps there are more than just four. I'm pretty sure there should be a 5th season: end-of-summer. It's still hot and the sun still hangs in bright blue skies, but when it sets things are a bit more golden, and you might notice a few leaves showing their spines or fading, ever-so-slightly, into yellow. It's a lovely time of year.

Here are a few photos from my end-of-summer. I've had a whopping 10 days off between surgery and medicine clerkships, and they have been glorious. There was yoga on the beach, camping, lazy pancake mornings, plenty of time for our new kitty, and a belated birthday party.

 

The party menu:

1. blini bar with crème fraiche, roasted onions, bean spread
2. heirloom tomato salad
3. zucchini salad
4. roasted carrots (recipe below)
5. summertime shandy/radler/clara [tasty by any name]
6. corn salad and amazing baked goods from friends!

It was a lovely evening, and I was so happy to be surrounded by so many great friends in my own home. Like I said, I need to cook for people more often.

Finally, a recipe! These roasted carrots are incredibly straight forward, but absolutely delicious. They are one of my favorites to bring to parties because they actually get people to want to put more vegetable on their plate. Even people who don't like carrots.

Roasted Cumin Carrots:

Preheat oven to 400 F
Wash and peel several large carrots. Cut them into french-fry size sticks.
Spread onto a baking sheet in a single layer.
Drizzle with olive oil and rub it around with your hands so that they all are well-coated. Sprinkle with cumin seeds and cinnamon.
Bake for about 40 minutes, until the edges begin to brown and caramelize. It's okay if they start to burn a teeny bit.

happy earth day

spring is like a perhaps hand
by e.e. cummings

        III

Spring is like a perhaps hand 
(which comes carefully 
out of Nowhere)arranging 
a window,into which people look(while 
people stare
arranging and changing placing 
carefully there a strange 
thing and a known thing here)and

changing everything carefully

spring is like a perhaps 
Hand in a window 
(carefully to 
and fro moving New and 
Old things,while 
people stare carefully 
moving a perhaps 
fraction of flower here placing 
an inch of air there)and

without breaking anything.

what to do when it's 80 in chicago in march

watch a movie on the lawn at night

play with shadows

eat lemon macarons

take a bike ride along the lake shore (my first time!)

 

watch the clouds drift by

listen to the birds chirp

the best kind of warmth

It is cold today. Right now it is 6 degrees Fahrenheit, to be exact. Growing up in Houston, my personal test of how cold it was, was whether or not I could see my breath. Now it's whether or not I can feel my face after walking across the hospital campus from my car. Why/how did people settle this land before heaters and fleece?

One good thing about ridiculously cold weather is that it makes me feel that much better about using both the stove top and oven at the same time. In my opinion, that is one of the best kinds of warmth. Second only to climbing back into bed in the morning to wake Ian up. A cold day, a warm kitchen, a hearty meal... that's a lot of encouragement to spend some time cooking. There was only one problem: studying. Ah, the life of a medical student. Fortunately, I decided that listening to recorded lectures, albeit somewhat passively, was good enough and set to work on a recipe that I tucked away a couple years ago.

I guess I was intimidated by this recipe. There are multiple steps, requiring multiple dirty dishes and a good bit of hands-on time. I found it on Orangette, one of my very favorite food blogs. She has some incredibly satisfying, self-standing vegetable dishes, delectable scones, lovely photographs, and a good bit of wit and humor thrown into each post. I mostly followed her recipe for Chard, Onion, and Gruyère Panade, which she adapted from the Zuni Café cookbook, but I took a few shortcuts, which I explain below.

I was a bit worried that the changes I made would take too much away from the texture and overall desired effect of soggy bread and gooey cheese. All I can say is that, while I have no point of comparison, the outcome was delicious. Warm and filling, a perfect balance of textures, flavors, and food groups. I added a poached egg on the side, but can honestly say that it didn't really add anything.

Next time I make this (and there will definitely be a next time), I plan to add more onion and make at least 3 times as much. I can't wait to eat my leftovers tomorrow.

Chard, Onion, and Cheese Panade Recipe:
I tend not to measure or keep time while I cook, so I'm just giving you some brief instructions, highlighting where my recipe differed from the original. If you prefer more guidance, I suggest you look at the original.

1 yellow onion, quartered and sliced (I plan to use 3 next time)
5 large cloves garlic, thinly sliced
2 bunches swiss chard (or other green)
about half a loaf of old bread, cubed
2 handfuls grated cheese - I used as mix of Emmanteler and sharp white cheddar
2 cups chicken or veggie broth
olive oil
salt & pepper

1. Caramelize onions
Heat olive oil over medium heat, add onions. Cook for a few minutes before stirring, allowing them to begin to brown. Stir in the garlic and a pinch of salt, and cook on low heat for another 30 minutes or so, stirring occasionally

2. Wilt chard
Remove the stems and chop them up into thin pieces, like you might with a stalk of celery. Cook these in olive oil over high heat for a couple minutes. Meanwhile, prepare the rest of the chard by rolling and slicing into ribbons. Add it to the stems and olive oil along with some salt & pepper. Allow this to cook about 2-4 minutes, stirring a bit so that it becomes uniformly wilted but still maintains good structure and bright green color.

3. Prepare bread
In a bowl, add some olive oil and about 1/4 cup of the broth to the bread and use your hands to rub it in.

Preheat oven to 400. Pour the rest of the broth into a small pot and bring to a simmer.

4. Layer
In a casserole dish, begin with a small scoop of the onion mixture. Then bread. Then more onions. Then chard. Then a handful of cheese. Repeat. Of course, the number of times you do this will depend on the size of your dish and the thickness of your layers. I only managed to get two in, and I had about a cup of chard leftover. As long as you finish with cheese on top you're fine.

Pour the rest of the broth over the panade, making sure to get it around the edges of the dish. Cover with a lid or aluminum foil and place in the oven. (I put a baking sheet underneath in case it bubbled over, but it didn't.) Cook at 400 for about 30 minutes. Lower heat to 325 and cook for another 30 minutes. Raise heat back up to 375, remove lid and cook for another 15 minutes so the top crisps up a bit.

When it's finished cooking allow it to cool a bit before serving.

Enjoy!

transfigured autumn

The year has reached its mighty ending

With golden wine and fruit of gardens.

Forests around keep wondrous peace

And are companions to the lonely.

Then says the farmer: it is good.

You evening bells prolonged and quiet

Still at the last give us good heart.

A flock of birds hails on its journey.

It is the season of mild love. 

Down the blue river in a boat

How image follows lovely image -

Then all goes down in rest and silence.

-Georg Trakl

one year later

Last year, I often ended up parking on the top of a six-level parking garage, which was fantastic really. Six flights of stairs was sometimes the only exercise I got in a day, and I had a great view of the Chicago skyline. One night I happened to have my camera and decided to snap a photo. From then on I tried to get a picture every so often. Now, one year later, I have a nice progression of the seasons.

9/22/2010

9/24/2010

10/12/2010

10/22/2010

11/8/2010

12/4/2010

12/9/2010

1/26/2011

Are you getting tired of bare trees and gray skies yet? The play of light in different times of day might help to make it more interesting. Here's one in the morning... 

2/4/2011

...and in the evening

2/9/2011

2/17/2011

 It can be pretty windy up there.

2/18/2011

3/30/2011

4/6/2011

 Finally! some color!

4/11/2011

4/28/2011

5/6/2011

5/18/2011

5/20/2011

Today: 8/16/11

 

 

could scarcely fill a cup

My friends and family in Texas are suffering from drought and heat that is far worse than any summer I can remember and is setting all kinds of records. Meanwhile, I'm dreading the coming of winter. Already. And it's only August. I have never ever wanted summer to drag out as long as possible, but I definitely do now. 

I have also really enjoyed finding ways to adapt to the warmer weather.  It's been fun to make smoothies and drink really cold ice water or tea. My cat also has a new love for ice cubes. He comes running every time he hears the freezer door open. I like the sound of the fan whirring beside my bed at night, and the feel of cold water at the end of a lukewarm shower, and avoiding turning the stove on, and farmers markets, and waking up early when the sun has already risen and it stays out late, too. I'm really soaking up the sun and warmth and just being outside as much as possible.

I want to share these thoughts with you because I wrote so much of the previous seasons here in Chicago: the vibrant colors of autumn, the joy of snow in the winter, the unending gray, the glorious blooming bursting forth of spring. The cycling of seasons has inspired so much art and poetry, I believe, because it is a great metaphor for life. Actually, I suppose because it is life. No metaphor about it. We live and die, things end and begin, we move from one stage to the next and we change but somehow are still the same being with the same core. I recently had a lecture on aging and the elderly that presented approaching death in such a beautiful light. Here is a quote that was shared by Fredrick Buechner: “What is lost is nothing to what is found. And all the death there ever was set next to life, could scarcely fill a cup!” Of course, death can be a terrifying thing to think about. It can also be lovely and exciting, but we need some things to remind us of that - family and friends, feeling loved and loving, mostly faith. Also the changing of seasons.

I do have a recipe to share with you as well. It's one that I make pretty often and am even willing to use the stove top when it's hot outside for this one. It's simple and delicious. This is one I think you'll enjoy any time of year. I can't really give you amounts because anything works, just adjust it for how much you think you will eat/how much you want leftovers.

Mushrooms and Greens with an Egg on Top:

olive oil

mushrooms, sliced

greens like kale, beet, collard, etc. roughly chopped or torn

red wine

salt and pepper

egg(s)

cheese - Parmesan or Swiss

bread (optional)

Begin by heating the olive oil (not too hot - if it smokes you're converting those good fats into bad fats) and adding the mushrooms to the pan.

Toss occasionally, put the lid on if they're getting drier than you like. When they start to get dark around the edges add a splash of red wine to de-glaze the pan.

Add in your greens and toss.

Put the lid on so they basically just steam from the moisture left on the greens from washing. (You did wash them, right?)

Remove the lid, salt and pepper to taste, let them cook longer if they need to dry out at all. I like my mushrooms to be a bit crispy and my greens just on the edge of over-cooked.

In the meantime, fry an egg or two. Or poach them.

 

Serve with grated Parmesan or torn Swiss cheese on top, salt and pepper to taste. It's also good served on top of a slice of bread, especially if you have some extra moisture or really runny yolks to make the bread a bit mushy.

post script: and on an almost totally unrelated note, I just fell in love with this.

backyard fantasy

When we moved here in July the tree in our backyard was just a normal tree, with normal green leaves. In the autumn they oranged and fell off. In the winter the tree was bare, just like all the others. For far too long. Spring presented a beautiful surprise. The tree was actually a pink tree in hiding.

 

It reminds me of Disney's Fantasia.

gray, gray, go away

Sometimes gray can be beautiful.

But not when it's like this.

Day, after day, after day.

Apparently my first spring in Chicago has also been one with very little sunshine on record. The bright side? The last few sunny days have been glorious! It's amazing to feel how much the weather actually affects my mood. I've never quite experienced this before. It's also fun to see how it affects everyone else. On Friday, everybody was hanging out in the atrium, where the glass ceiling allowed us all to get some much-needed natural light, stalling until the last second possible before shuffling into the classrooms.