Dear Blue Cheese: I love you.
07/13/11

I’m not sure what has happened to my taste buds.  The old ones have either committed suicide, moved out or simply grown up.  There was a time in the not so distant past that blue cheese and I could not get along.  If I so much as smelled the stuff I’d get frowney faced and stick out my tongue in disgust.  It secretly upset me.  You see, I believe in cheese.  I.  Love.  It.  It should be its own food group.  I’ve praised it for as long as I can remember.  In fact, some of my earliest childhood memories are of cheese.  I’m serious.  Don’t laugh.  There were whole stretches of time where cheese (slices, pieces, blocks) was the only thing I would eat.  I know, I know.  It’s hard to live in a world where you can do things like select cheese as your only form of nourishment.  It’s difficult to be me, for sure.

What I’m trying to tell you is that I have a new cheese mistress.  Her name?  Blue.  I want her on salads, grits, smeared on a warm baguette, crumbled up in a bowl of beats.  Sigh.  Suddenly, I want her everywhere.  I can’t explain it.  I’m not sure when the change came or where it came from but I am a happy man.

I woke up today craving salad.  It might be because I’ve had the tiniest addiction to fast food lately.  I’m working though it.  My body is rebelling and begging for vegetables!  It could also be that I visited my family in St Louis last weekend and my grandmother forced me to eat like it was an Olympic Sport.  Either way…I woke up today desperate for a salad.  I made a giant garbage salad.  GIANT.  I also made my own salad dressing.  I’m sure you can guess the flavor.  Thank you, Martha Stewart for helping my new addiction to blue cheese dressing get out of control.

 

WHAT?

1 cup buttermilk

1/4 cup mayonnaise

1/4 cup plain low-fat yogurt

1 tablespoon fresh thyme

4 oz blue cheese crumbles

fresh ground black pepper and salt to taste

 

HOW?

Whisk together buttermilk, mayo, yogurt, lemon juice and thyme.  Stir in the blue cheese and then season with salt and pepper.

 

Totally amazing and easy, right?  I had a moment at the store when I thought I was going to make a super low-fat and/or healthy version of this dressing.  Google tells me that I can substitute more yogurt for the buttermilk.  I would suggest going with a Greek yogurt.  You need something with a little zing to spruce up its bite.  I hope you’ll try this dressing.  It’s easy and oh so tasty.  I’m going to try to not eat the whole bowl full!

 

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Scones . . . it’s what’s for breakfast on shabbos mornin’ (and seuda shlishit)
07/11/11

Like I said, I’ve got some free time.  Therefore, I feel the pressure to step it up when it comes to shabbat cooking.  I have to confess, when it comes to shabbat dinner planning, I usually go big for dinner but as a result, lunch gets a bit, well, sad and seuda shlishit (third meal) turns into leftover challah and hummus.  But not this Shabbat. Oh no my friends, this Shabbat I showed up.  I made SCONES. But not just any dinner AND scones.  I made cherry scones with orange zest and organic whole wheat pastry flower and oats. I mean these were delicious. We were asked out to a seuda shlishit (third meal — it’s required on shabbat to have three meals.  You first is dinner, second is lunch and third is a little snack before post-shabbat dinner.  This idea is linked to a section of Torah that states “And Moshe said: Eat it (the Manna) today, for today is Shabbat to Gd; today you will not find it in the field.” The use of the word today three times in the sentence in reference to eating the manna is considered the background resource  for the Rabbinic rule requiring three meals on Shabbat), which we never get asked out to so I figured I should bring it and ‘it’ was scones.  yum. Now, the thing about scones, for those who aren’t as familiar, is that they are not super duper sweet.  You will be sorely disappointed if you’re expecting a sugary sweet breakfast treat.  You will not, however, be disappointed if you’re expecting a buttery, almost biscuit-like treat that tastes good either with jalapeno and white cheddar or with orange zest and cherries.

Orange and Oat Scones
(as adapted from 101Cookbooks.com)

WHAT?

3 cups whole wheat pastry flour
1/2 cup turbinado sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup (2 sticks) cold butter, cut into small pieces
2 cups rolled oats
zest of 1 orange
1 cup buttermilk
1/4 cup coarse turbinado or Demerara sugar, for sprinkling
2/3 cup dried cherries

How?!

Preheat the oven to 350F degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Combine the flour, 1/2 cup of turbinado sugar, baking powder, and baking soda in the bowl of a food processor. Add the butter and pulse 15-20 times or until it looks like sandy pearls. (If you are working by hand, cut the butter into the flour mixture using a pastry cutter.) Transfer the dough to a bowl and stir in the oats and zest. Stir in the buttermilk and currants until just moistened.

Bring the dough together with your hands. If the dough is still too crumbly, stir in more buttermilk a tiny splash at a time, but try to avoid over mixing. After bringing the dough together, gently pat it into an 8-inch round. Cut into triangle shapes (see photo) and transfer to the prepared baking sheet with some room between each scone. Sprinkle the tops with coarse sugar. Bake for 12 to 15 minute or until the bottoms are deeply golden.

Makes 8 extra-large scones, or 12 to 16 larger ones.

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…and so it begins
07/09/11

I have been trying to be a Jew for a real long time.  Maybe forever.  One of my favorite movies is Yentl for crying out loud.  It always has been.  I’m not sure if it was the sexual frustration and confusion that was speaking to me as a kid, or the desperate need to light candles, pray and learn.  Probably all of the above.  Maybe you’re reading this thinking that you agree, that you’ve been trying to be a Jew your whole life too so what’s the big deal.  The big deal is that I grew up in rural Arkansas as a Southern Baptist.

There.  Do I have your attention now?

That’s right.  I was a Southern Baptist and now I’m converting.  I’m not sure I know how to explain why I want to convert other than I feel it in my gut.  I know it’s what I’m supposed to do. I’ve heard it said that some people are born with a “Jewish Soul” and that they never feel fully satisfied and whole until they go through a conversion.  Maybe that’s a little out there.  I don’t know if I buy it myself.  What I can tell you is that I’ve got a Jewish Soul and it’s time that it came out of the closet.  That’s really all I want to say about it.

For the last few years I’ve taken classes, talked to rabbis, consulted friends, prayed, worried, wondered.  This is not an easy process, friends!  I’ve been on a path to conversion for a long while.  I began an official process to convert back in October.  Then?  I quit my job and started waiting tables, which didn’t really work well for attending Temple services.  Friday and Saturday nights are big money nights in restaurants.  You have to work weekend night to make money.

I’ve gradually become more and more frustrated with my restaurant schedule.  I don’t want to work every weekend.  Not only do I want to go to temple on Friday nights, I also want to see my husband and our friends.  I want a life, y’all.  I deserve a life with a normal schedule.  So?  Last week I talked to my manager and changed my work availability.  I no longer work on Friday nights.  Friday nights are for Temple.  It’s time to focus on more important things than selling food to strangers.

As I begin to focus more on this process, I want to share and I guess sorta journal what happens.  I think I’m technically supposed to keep a written journal but I like the idea that somebody, somewhere could be thinking and feeling the same things that I am and that reading what I’m going through might help them.  When Whitney and I started this blog I had this whole journaling my conversion for the blog idea in the back of my mind.  JewHungry has been such a wonderful outlet for me.  It’s kept me feeling creative and kept us fed. It has also been one of the things that has connected me to my Jewishness when I haven’t had time for temple or meetings with my Rabbi.  I suppose it’s time to nourish my little Jewish Soul.  I hope you’ll enjoy and/or get something out of what I write about each week…

Tonight was my first Shabbat.  I went to services with my in-laws.  I was a little nervous.  Mostly though?  I was excited to get started.  I’ve put this off long enough.  What I can say about tonight is that it was both awesome and awful.  Isn’t everything?

I’ve been to services before.  I know what to expect.  I also realize that it was my first temple experience of many to come, so I need to be patient.  BUT? The Hebrew is killing me at the moment!  I don’t know the tune of the songs.  I obviously don’t read Hebrew so that’s a problem.  Sure there’s the transliteration but even that gets difficult.  Is that a long A or a short A?  It’s very hard.  I’m a smart literate guy.  Not being able to read and understand is one of the most frustrating and challenging aspects of services at the moment.  I don’t like not knowing.

That being said?  When I got frustrated I read the English translation to myself.  Near the end of services I thought…screw it.  I’m singing some really off-key and rocky Hebrew.  Who cares.  G-d’s just happy that I showed up.  There were maybe 20 people there.  What am I worried about?

That wasn’t so negative, was it?

I can tell you that the experience was also very emotional.  I went with Andy’s parents.  It was just the three of us.  I sat in the middle.  They pointed me in the right direction when I looked lost.  They guided me.  They held my hand.  It was really extraordinarily beautiful.  I felt safe.

Though, I have to admit to you that I sat there thinking to myself…Alright.  I’m crazy.  There’s all of this Hebrew.  There are all of these songs.  I feel illiterate, I feel lost.  What am I going to gain from this experience.  I tried to be quiet and listen for a little whisper from G-d.  It’s always in the whispers.  I believe that if you’re quiet and still enough, you can hear the message.  Your phone will ring.

You guys.  My phone rang.

As I’m dragging myself through negative-town, hating the Hebrew and questioning my sanity, we read something in English.  I wish I had the prayer-book with me right now so I could quote it exactly as it appeared.  It was something along the lines of…we’re wondering in the desert, we can’t make it alone, we have to hold hands and walk through the trials together…we’ll make it through the desert. Maybe it sounds corny and cheesy.  I had to bite my lip.  Tears came to my eyes.

First off?  How many people are lucky enough to love their in-laws?  LOVE.  I love them.  I was standing between my two biggest cheerleaders.  If there were ever a Team Jeremy?  These two would be Co-Presidents of its fan club.  I was surrounded by love.  They gave up their Friday night to come to temple with me.  ME.  And not even just for tonight.  We now have a long-standing temple date.  I’m on their calendar.  There they were standing next to me, waiting to hold my hands and walk me through the desert.  Maybe that desert is a conversion, maybe it’s Hebrew, maybe it’s any number of things.  All I know is that passage that we read reminded me how lucky I am.  Things have been complicated for me lately.  I don’t want to throw a pity party for myself, let’s just say I’m in the desert and it’s getting hot, y’all.  The reading reminded me to be grateful, to be thankful.

Wherever you are.  Whatever your desert is?  I hope you have a Steve and Sherry to hold your hand and walk you through it.

xo

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