(Spiralized) Zucchini Kugel

Ma never made potato kugel for Shabbos. She and I are fellow potato-lovers, to the point of mindless consumption. 

So, recently I have pounced upon alternatives—like this Spaghetti Squash Kugel. With hefty seasoning of garlic powder and black pepper, it came out delicious (my sister-in-law, who rarely eats vegetables, gobbled it up) and guilt-free. 

I would recommend, after scraping out the squash strands, to let it rest in a bowl for a bit so excess water will emerge, then squeeze it off. Less water, better binding.

The next week, I wanted to try my hand at zucchini. But there I was stumped. Every recipe I came across called for some sort of carb-y binding, like bread crumbs. 

For Shabbos meals, I try to keep the food as carb-free as possible, since challah takes enough of a toll. If the spaghetti squash kugel didn't need bread-binding, why should this? 

A few years ago I bought a spiralizer, and to be frank, didn't use it much. It has now increased its appeal as Ta, the lukshen-lover, is content to consider spiralized zucchini as pasta's relative. I wanted to use it for the kugel—which would also spare me digging out the food processor (although the pieces could be left in chunks as well).  

The secret it to get as much water out of it as possible. I steam it, press it against the colander, pour it over in a bowl to rest, and as more water emerges, continue to pour it off while pressing down. Then I sauté it lightly to ensure everything was evaporated out. 

(Spiralized) Zucchini Kugel 

5-7 zucchini (of any color; the above also had yellow)
1 onion, diced

3 eggs

3 cloves garlic, minced

garlic powder

salt and pepper 

1) Spiralize or grate zucchini. 

2) Make 'em limp. What I do is steam it, then press as much liquid out through the strainer, then let it rest in a bowl and squeeze out any more liquid that may emerge. But there are plenty of options how to go about that. 

3) Sauté onion until delicious. Add garlic towards the end, for about a minute. 

4) Add limp zucchini and mix. Sauté lightly just to ensure that as much water has been bullied out of it as possible. Season with garlic powder, salt, and pepper to taste. 

5) Pour over into a bowl. Add three beaten eggs and mix. 

6) Pour over into lightly greased 9x9-ish baking dish, and bake on 350° for 45 minutes or so.    

Pay It Forward

I had noted him as I prowled the produce aisles. He was peering carefully at the Golden Delicious apples, which made him already interesting as a fellow fruit-lover. They don't make 'em like they used to. 

He was talking educationally to his little boy in the cart. A good Tatty, I thought approvingly. He looked weary, but he spoke patiently to his excited young son. 

I had in one hand my cart, in another, a bag of zucchini; with an ominous thud-thud-thud, I looked down to see my carefully selected summer squash slipping through a tear, banging into the floor. 

"Oh, maaaaan," I emoted in annoyance. I hoped they weren't bruised. 

As I knelt to recover them from the floor, I heard a quiet, "Here." The good Tatty was matter-of-factly proffering a replacement bag. 

"Thank you," I replied distractedly, taking it and chucking my veggies in. 

He silently vanished. 

Emerging from the store, I felt . . . upbeat. There is a bounciness when one experiences kindness. 

The next morning, I saw a cell phone and keys forlorn on the train seat across. I lunged down the car, tapping the girl on the shoulder. "Is this yours?" She gratefully reclaimed them, and I attempted to vanish discreetly as he did. 

There is also a bounciness when one can forward the kindness to another.  

TGIF

The will of God will never take you,
Where the grace of God cannot keep you.
Where the arms of God cannot support you,
Where the riches of God cannot supply your needs,
Where the power of God cannot endow you.
The will of God will never take you,
Where the spirit of God cannot work through you,
Where the wisdom of God cannot teach you,
Where the army of God cannot protect you,
Where the hands of God cannot mold you.
The will of God will never take you,
Where the love of God cannot enfold you,
Where the mercies of God cannot sustain you,
Where the peace of God cannot calm your fears,
Where the authority of God cannot overrule for you.
The will of God will never take you,
Where the comfort of God cannot dry your tears,
Where the Word of God cannot feed you,
Where the miracles of God cannot be done for you,
Where the omnipresence of God cannot find you.

—Anonymous (I think)

Rosh Hashana Cometh

Self-flagellation and I are old friends. If I am calm and content, my subconscious says, "That's enough of that, now," and obligingly rustles up a memory from 2nd grade that proves what an unworthy human being I am. 

 

Gordon Marino ponders the purpose of remorse ("What's the Use of Regret?"), a topic which is rather apropos for Rosh Chodesh Elul, no? 

"Self-forgiveness" shouldn't be encouraged, he says, for that merely removes responsibility or an incentive to improve; self-torture should not be endless, however, since we "lose faith in ourselves," and ruminate helplessly on the past without progressing into the future. 

We can learn to let things go, but before we let them go, we have to let regret get hold of us. Perhaps the old biblical formula is best — repent, ask for forgiveness with a sincere resolve to change your ways.

Ah, the old biblical formula is best! What a surprise. 

Kierkegaard observed that you don’t change God when you pray, you change yourself. Perhaps it is the same with regret. I can’t rewind and expunge my past actions, but perhaps I change who I am in my act of remorse. 

Without reflection of past sins (Viduy?), one cannot change. Isn't that what we're here for? We're here to do, initially imperfectly, then acknowledge our mess-ups and act upon that to elevate higher. 

The Pleasures of the Surreal

Movies and I have an odd relationship. I devour the reviews, can tell you if the critics like it or not, but never end up seeing them until years later. So although "La La Land" should be totally up my alley (MUSICAL!!!) I haven't seen it yet. 

Last year (by backlog really goes back), I was reading one of the many pieces about it, and this paragraph by Manohla Dargis jumped out at me: 

Contemporary American movies could use more s’wonderful, more music and dance, and way, way more surrealism. They’re too dull, too ordinary and too straight, whether they’re mired in superhero clichés or remodeled kitchen-sink realism. One of the transformative pleasures of musicals is that even at their most choreographed, they break from conformity, the dos and don’ts of a regimented life, suggesting the possibility that everyone can move to her own beat. It’s enormously pleasurable when an evening stroll turns into a rhythmic saunter and then bursts into dance — think of Gene Kelly walking, tapping, stomping and exulting in the rain. . . 

Musicals are for idealists. One of the pleasures of classic film musicals is the chance to watch bodies become extraordinary — strolling and then singing and soaring — often in stories that suggest that with some choir practice and maybe an Arthur Murray dance lesson or two, you could soar, too. Musicals are liberation with a beat. When Judy Garland sang “Over the Rainbow,” she was telling her audience that it would transcend its terrible times. 

For me, movies and books are about pleasant escapism. If life is B'H going well, I don't want to dwell in misery; if life has gotten ensnarled in a rough patch, I want to be distracted by sunshine and ponies.

Although, I do have to remind myself that in the real world, breaking into song and dance in the rain is not a wise idea, especially if there are witnesses.   

TGIF

• How to get reward in this world, Part I and Part II.

"What Is Your Genius?"

Esther Wein explained it: chochma + bina = daas. 

One could erroneously think that all three are the same. But they are not. 

"I don't understand," Ta cannot comprehend. "She is so smart! How could she say something like that?" 

"She's smart, sure," I reply. "But Ta, you are the one who always talks about E.Q.! That's not the same as I.Q." 

There are even more facets to the mind, like rationality and intelligence. Again, do they sound the same? Kinda. But they aren't. David Hambrick and Alexander Burgoyne explain how in "The Difference Between Rationality and Intelligence."  

The work of Kahneman and Tversky showed how humans are, for the most part, irrational (is there any concrete reason why I should be scared of the dark?). Then Stanovich showed there is no correlation between high I.Q. and R.Q.—the Rationality Quotient. 

Based on this evidence, Professor Stanovich and colleagues have introduced the concept of the rationality quotient, or R.Q. If an I.Q. test measures something like raw intellectual horsepower (abstract reasoning and verbal ability), a test of R.Q. would measure the propensity for reflective thought — stepping back from your own thinking and correcting its faulty tendencies.

To my mind, this shows how certain admirable qualities are overlooked while others are overhyped—like so-called "brilliance." 

I saw this quote the other day: 

Albert Einstein wrote, “Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.” The question I have for you at this point of our journey together is, “What is your genius?”

We all have something to contribute. The problem is when we don't realize that our "something" won't be the same as another's. 

Respect the Eye Pencil

"Do you mind stopping in the police department?" she asked. "I have to file a report for that fender bender." 

She took a spot by the counter, while I sat down to the side with her daughter. I was entertaining the child with my cell, looking down, when I realized an officer had come out behind the partition and was standing in front of me. 

"Do you need any help?" he asked tenderly, concern in his eyes. 

"Um, no, not me, she does," I said, motioning to my befuddled friend, ignored at the front desk. 

"Oh," he said sheepishly, and scurried back from whence he came. 

When we left, she said it: "It was the makeup." It's not about looks—she herself is quite pretty. But somehow, taking a few minutes in the morning to swipe on mascara and lipstick makes the world respect you, and eager to help you.

So if you ever in need of a favor . . . begin by buffing on some blush.

Your Husband, No One Else's

In a long-ago interview with Bill Moyers, Maya Angelou revealed her theory that most women marry other people’s husbands. She didn’t elaborate, but I immediately understood. Out of hopefulness, impatience, insecurity or for a thousand other reasons, we too often rush into relationships that are poor fits for us, robbing our partners and ourselves of more promising connections. . .

“I have finally married my own husband,” Ms. Angelou went on to say.

Many years after my first marriage, so did I.

I read in a frum magazine that the rising rate of divorce amongst our newly wedded youth is not necessarily due to the inability of these couples to make it work; it is because they should not have married in the first place. Incompatibility cannot always be overcome.

The opening paragraph is from an article by a disabled woman, Ona Gritz ("Love, Eventually"), who realized that she was in a relationship with an able-bodied man simply because he wanted her. After years of rejection from men, this was an offer she could not pass up. 

But she did not feel with him that deep connection that she had with her best friend, and she could not help but contrast the two relationships. Shouldn't marriage have that? 

She eventually divorced, then later met and married her soulmate—who happens to be blind, while she has cerebral palsy. 

It’s true that Dan and I are very similar. We’re both romantics yet also fiercely independent. We’re introspective to the point of obsession. Though he’s a decade older, we share a love for the music from his teenage years. And long before we met, many of the same novels and poetry books lined our shelves.

Dating, to put it bluntly, sucks. I have read letters of women who have had enough, that decided to "settle" and simply marry. Perhaps, to some, the settling was worth it; but I have heard too many tales of the bleakness that can follow such a decision. 

Breathe. Be patient. Find happiness in the meantime. And come to know yourself, so you can know what you need.    

"Be That Person"

I like to think I have reached a point where I no longer absorb snippy comments. Often, if on the receiving end, I look intently at the other and wonder, "Golly, she must be really hurting about something." 

Anonymous trolls, the most cowardly of the cowardly, offset their own misery by depositing nasty little statements here and there. This cooking blogger posted a video taking such a one to task, by sharing her own burdens and appealing to the world to just be freakin' nice.  

Dr. Perri Klass, M.D. ("What Knitting Can Teach Us About Parenting"), is a pediatrician; to unwind, she browses through a knitting website, where she noted that despite the, er, straight-up ugliness of the various posted projects, the vast majority of comments are nice. Yet she doesn't see that empathy outside, as parents are usually subject to sniffing disdain if their toddler has a public meltdown (an occupational hazard, and to be expected). 

I would like to suggest that everyone who has posted more than one comment in the last two years passing judgment on other parents learn to knit as soon as possible. Winter is coming, and we all need scarves. There are some really nice, easy patterns on Ravelry, and you can download many of them free — and then you can choose your yarn and put your heart into it and make something beautiful.

With luck, the people who see it in real life and the ones who admire it in the photos you post online will respect the effort you put into it, and offer praise and encouragement. And if they don’t have anything nice to say, they won’t say anything at all.

Whenever I now get that judgy voice in my head, I'm disappointed in myself. Then I choose to see a quality about the other that I am forced to admire. And I can.

TGIF

• "How do you say 'email' in Yiddish?" My particular Yinglish (although technically Heblish) favorite for "butt-dial": "al pi tuchas";

• How to groom your eyebrows; 

• Can foods fight acne? Oh yes.

How to Cook an Egg

Perhaps one of the techniques that has stubbornly eluded me is how to cook civilized hard-boiled eggs. Either they come out raw, or they come out overcooked, and are usually a pain to peel, half sticking to the shell. 

My Frenchman did not fail me. Jacques Pépin's method for perfect eggs, every time, has been reliable.

1) Bring a pot of water to boil. 

2) Take a thumb tack (or the like) and stab through the shell on the round (as opposed to pointy) side of the eggs. 

3) Once boiling, lower flame to simmer. Drop in the eggs and cover the pot. 

4) After ten minutes (a timer is very very much your friend), remove pot from flame and drain off the boiling water. 

5) Shake the pot to crack the shells. 

6) Now, here Jacques recommends dunking the eggs into ice water; I have found that putting them under cold tap water is sufficient. Cover the eggs with cold water. 

7) After allowing them to cool, remove and peel. The water now under the shells should make it easy. 

Via thedailymeal

NO SULFUR RING. How cool is that?