In My Kitchen and In the World, May 2022

My Kitchen in May: A Serene and Peaceful Retreat

On my refrigerator.

Chopping vegetables: actually a relaxing thing to do.

Eating outside on the new backyard table.

Salmon filets topped with lemon, herbs, and bell pepper; a big vegetable salad; a bottle of wine.
We enjoy cooking in the kitchen and eating in the dining room.

  

Sometimes we eat meat. This is Australian lamb that Len cooked on the grill outside.

Curried vegetables with the very small amount of leftover lamb.
 At least as far as I know, the Australian workers are not mistreated,
as are American meat workers. So we eat lamb occasionally.

  

In My Kitchen, May 30, 2022.

The World Is Not a Serene and Peaceful Place.

Flag at half-mast.

Food editor Sam Sifton of the New York Times wrote last week:

“These are the most difficult mornings: the sun rising after senseless acts of violence, shining on beds that weren’t slept in, that won’t be slept in again.  

 

“There are 19 dead schoolchildren in Uvalde, Texas, as of this writing, along with two dead adults and the dead 18-year-old gunman. Several other children were injured, … including a 10-year-old in critical condition. The gunman also shot a 66-year-old woman whom authorities said was his grandmother. She, too, is in critical condition. …

“And I’m here to tell you what to cook right now?

“Food plays a central role in our reaction to tragedy, to death and grieving. It’s why casseroles appear on the doorsteps and countertops of those experiencing it, why we feel the urge to roast chickens or assemble lasagnas when the news is grim. Food is comfort of a sort, and fuel as well, for anger and sorrow alike. We cook to provide for those we love and for ourselves. In the activity itself we strive to find relief, strength, resolve.” (Source: promotional email from NYT cooking)

Sifton's newsletter, written the morning after the Texas massacre, struck a chord with me. I find it impossible to deal with the Republican tolerance for murder in the name of some totally outrageous right-wing theory of personal freedom (without responsibility, obviously). Reactions of Republican politicians seem harder to understand than the behavior of deeply disturbed psychopathic killers.

Our world is full of tragedies. Gun violence is a special US tragedy, a symptom of our national trend away from Democracy and towards a totalitarian state ruled by power hungry would-be oligarchs. Other tragedies, which affect far more innocent victims, are in my mind as well. Contemplating the death and destruction waged by the Russian war against Ukraine, the global power-seeking of Putin and his enablers, and the sheer cruelty of the invading Russian troops is unimaginable. The world is also face-to-face with a growing global famine, which I wrote about last week (blog post here). The human race is also facing environmental destruction, as signaled by terrible droughts on several continents, and other disruptions of normal climate patterns. And frantic parents are desperate for baby formula in the US.

And I’m here to tell you what’s happening in my kitchen?

Obviously, I kept cooking throughout the month, despite all the terrible stories in the newspapers. Maybe cooking does keep you sane, if you can keep from thinking about the victims of starvation. Whatever the case, I kept documenting my more experimental recipes. I try to keep posts not-too-boring, so I don't share photos of ordinary pasta dishes, tuna salads, or other run-of-the-mill foods that I make all the time. 

From an interview with Yotam Ottolenghi who says that it's true that Russians and Ukrainians share many food traditions -- "But reality proves that food, by default, doesn’t create or engender peace. You can’t just solve conflict through food,” he said. “It’s just, unfortunately, in our world, it’s not really working.” ("Yotam Ottolenghi wants to talk to you")

I’m sharing my kitchen observations with like-minded bloggers who write about their kitchens each month at Sherry’s blog here: “In My Kitchen.” This post © 2022 mae sander.

A peaceful scene viewed from our kayak — first trip of the season.
We do appreciate how peaceful are our lives.