The Long and Difficult Road

I was on the Big Island of Hawaii recently, where I broke a bone in my foot. It's a crummy thing to have happen on vacation, surely, but if it was going to happen, at least it was after we got to the volcano - I'd been there before, so I only missed out on one hike I hadn't done before.

There was a surface lava flow just outside the park, so we drove to the county-run viewing area. On a foot broken only 48h earlier, and no crutches, I set off from the parking area as the sun slipped behind the mountains. One mile out (though I didn't really realize it was that far at the time - but a) I'm known for my ridiculous death-march hikes and b) it's not like we have a volcano at home. I was gonna see lava.)

One younger-dad type passed us, saw my limp, but encouraged us to keep going. We were maybe only a third of the way in. He said it's still a long walk, but it's incredible. So we continued on.

Later, maybe another third of the way, we passed an older-dad type, who told the group walking in front of us that the walk wasn't worth it, they may as well turn around, there wasn't anything more to see.

Ever the eternal optimist, I chose to believe the first guy. We walked about as far as you could go on the paved path. We didn't get close enough for the lava to singe our toes or melt our shoes or anything, but we did see some fires where the lava was consuming trees. And slowly, as night continued falling, more and more red spots on the hillside became more and more visible. It was quite a sight, even if not the apocalyptic lava fountains one secretly hopes to witness on such a vacation. But something, for sure, unlike anything I'd seen before. Standing on rock (1) younger than me - younger than my students, even - watching island-building in action. A whole fiery hillside sliding toward the sea under a glassy black crust.

But back to the two men who offered very different advice along the way. It's interesting that neither saw the lava in its full nighttime glory. We passed them on the way out, while the bright tropical sunlight was still obscuring the more subtle incandescence from the lava.

Maybe the first one had seen it on a previous evening. Who knows. It's easy to feel sorry for the second guy, who spoke from a hardened heart, of sorts, and who doesn't even know what he doesn't know.

These encounters echoed a passage from Brent Curtis and John Eldredge's The Sacred Romance that I read the very next morning (2).

When we face a decision to fall back or press on, the whole universe holds its breath - angels, demons, our friends and foes, and the Trinity itself - watching with bated breath to see what we will do. ... The question that lingers from the fall of Satan and the fall of man remains: Will anyone trust the great heart of the Father, or will we shrink back in faithless fear?

So, to whom am I listening on other journeys? The acknowledgment that the road is long and, in my broken condition, may be quite difficult and painful, but that in the end it is all worthwhile? Or the voice of easy abandonment: turn around now, you've already seen all that's good to see? We'd probably like to say the first. But the second is so dismissively seductive that it's easy to choose.

Broken, I press on, with the promise of the spectacular.

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1 Which has since been covered by new lava!

2 I've encountered an incredible amount of well-timed reading in the past few months. Skeptics may call it coincidence or an artifact of my awareness. I see their points, but choose a different explanation.

Kitchen Adventures

In the past 12h, my kitchen has been the epicenter of quite the cooking-quake:

Started off with a full cooked breakfast (including freshly-made scones) with homemade yogurt and homemade blackberry jam. So the yogurt and jam don't really count towards today's cooking throughput, but eating has to count for something.

2 loaves of Banana Granola Bread - one to keep, one to send to a friend.

Chocolate and Sea Salt Shortbread - I ran out of cocoa, so I had to make just a half-batch, but in a loaves-and-fishes moment, I wound up with more cookies than the recipe predicts. The dough was impossible to work without loads of flour, so perhaps it could have benefited from a chill first. I'd like to try them again, but with the cacao nibs, if I can find them. (Anyone know a good source?) I wasn't too sure whether the salt would be overpowering, but it's a nice counterpoint to the rich and almost fruity cocoa. I'd also like to try these with a darker cocoa.

Cauliflower and Potato Sabzi for lunch. (minus the fresh ginger and cilantro; plus green peas)

Gougeres. Cheesy savory cream puff goodness. These will likely be the feature of another blog next week sometime. You know how I was ahead of the trend on cupcakes? I'll go ahead and predict that cream puffs will be the next big food trend.

Dinner: Black-Pepper-Parmesan-Crusted Pork Cutlets, whole wheat pasta with tomato sauce, Green Beans Provencal, and probably a fresh peach for dessert.

All this baking is hot on the heels of a bunch of wedding-cake samples for tastings the past few days, plus a second shot at ma'amoul, which may get its own post some day.

I am exhausted, but it's a good brand of tired. :)

Good on Paper

A friend and I have thrown around the phrase "things that look good on paper" lately. Which has me thinking about the things in my life that have looked good on paper. Things I thought I wanted that didn't turn out so well. Or, truly, those things which I thought I didn't want but have proven to be more than I could have ever wanted, with rewards exceeding my imagination.

Chemistry. I always tell my students (though they never believe me) that they should keep an open mind about their future college major and subsequent career, because one never knows exactly how it will all end up. When I was in high school, I didn't exactly hate chemistry, but I was surely a long way from loving it. But I could easily say that the last thing I thought I would ever do was teach chemistry. Teaching itself wasn't necessarily out of the realm of possibility, but chemistry sure was. Fast forward 15 years... and I love it. I have to believe I'm doing exactly what I was created to do - it's the hardest, most consuming work I've ever done, but I adore it. My former meteorology job was perfect on paper - a balanced blend of aesthetics and science, artful design and technical skill. But something was missing. Looking back, I believe this might have been people. Or else a sense of universal significance and purpose. It slowly grew less challenging. I could spend an entire 8-hour day without a single in-person interaction. I grew restless. The perfect job on paper... wasn't. But the wholly imperfect job on paper? most days I can hardly believe my good fortune and privilege.

Boys. Whenever I envisioned myself raising children, I always said I wanted to have girls. - never sons. [Funny that Belated Promise Ring ("my Rebecca says she never wants a boy" just shuffled onto the ipod - now waiting for Upward Over the Mountain to follow it...]. First, I am one, so I figured it would be easier, since I knew how girls worked. Second, the clothes and accessories and toys of girls are way cuter and more fun. Yet, one look at the students with whom I've developed close relationships, they are almost overwhelmingly boys. Adopted sons, if you will (though maybe I prefer thinking of them more as nephews, or even younger brothers). Not to say that girls don't spend time in my classroom, but they are certainly outnumbered. To mentor them, I've had to learn so much about boys/men and what makes them tick. I don't know whether I'm being prepared to be a mother of sons or whether I'm simply to continue shaping others' sons, or whether it's all just a function of the subject matter I teach, or my approachability... but it's certainly the opposite demographic I ever expected to be "raising."

Central Florida. When I came for a conference in 2002, I distinctly remember saying to myself, "How could anyone live here? It's completely soulless!" Fast-forward three years, and guess who is moving here? Granted, I try to minimize my time in the tourist districts (the location where the aforementioned statement was made), and I'm not entirely unconvinced this place is devoid of soul; I can can at least make peace with it.

On Having a Usual

Working the Mosaic coffee bar, I pride myself in knowing regulars by their drink choice. I may have virtually no idea what their names are, but I do know their drink. (Mr. Toffee-Nut Latte, I'm talking to you) I love winning the race to get their usual drink started before they even ask for it.

And people - whether they admit it - want to be known, to have their needs anticipated. We cloak it, calling it "great customer service", but I think it goes far deeper to a soul-level need. Why else would I be exhausted after a week at a conference, talking endlessly with people I barely know (and who don't know me)? I just wanted someone to talk to, to whom I didn't have to explain everything first.

As I was saying.

On the other hand, I virtually never order the same drink twice. I have plenty of Favorites, but not a Usual. I'm always trying new flavor combinations. Which you could probably write off as the part of my personality/career that favors experimentation and sensory evaluation. But I'm often looking for a new favorite. Same with restaurants - there's only one restaurant where I always order the exact same thing every time.(1) Otherwise, I jump around menus like the cast of Fame. And it's not just with food and drink - I'm on the search for my next favorite for a lot of things. That could sound like I'm perpetually dissatisfied, but I don't think that's true. Maybe it's an acknowledgment of the variety of experiences waiting to be discovered. Life's pretty short, after all. I don't purport that all of my favorite things are the absolute best (okay, okay, I said all - anyone who knows me longer than twenty seconds knows how I evangelize my favorites...), and I'm generally willing to accept that there is more that is Good out there.

Likewise, a friend once told me that she always wears the same perfume so that whenever someone smells her signature scent, they will be reminded of her. The romantic in me really loves that idea, but I find I can't commit to just one fragrance for that long. I usually work through a bottle of perfume in a year, maybe two.(2) Then I'm happy to switch to something new. As a result, my fragrances are highly associative with specific time periods - ck one invariably evokes memories of sophomore year of college, for example. I don't necessarily get tired of a fragrance by the time I get to the end of the bottle, but I sure do look forward to the adventure of finding the next. The process of discovery, of the hunt, of the selection.(3)

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1 Beef Tostadas, everything but sour cream; Mr. Pibb with extra ice.

2 Currently it's Ferragamo Incanto Shine. Previously, it was Aquolina Pink Sugar. And prior to that, it was Trish McEvoy #9 (Blackberry and Vanilla Musk)

3 This may also explain my patience for thrift-store shopping.