Wasting Food in the Name of Science

Jewish Press 2/6/2009

 

Late in December, my family suddenly informs me that I have to come home. Although I normally welcome holiday travel like a hefty attack of the stomach flu, this time I have no choice. Flying by myself under the circumstances is a very bad idea, so I decide to take my daughter Isabella along. As soon as I share my plans with her, the panic sets in. “What about the Science Fair?” she asks, and I quickly check the calendar. Late February, so I think we’ll be okay. Once she hears there is very little chance we’ll be gone that long, she relaxes.  “Besides,” I say, “you can do your experiments in Holland, can’t you? I’m sure it’ll be very inspiring.”  When I introduce the topic to my family, they are more than game to play their part. My brother knows a great science museum, and my sister immediately starts making plans. In spite of the fact that our list of famous painters is roughly three times as long, there have been some great scientists in the lowlands. From Huygens to Leeghwater to Van Leeuwenhoek, there are plenty of good role models to choose from. Didn’t Descartes live in Leiden for over twenty years? Maybe she can build her own microscope, or a hydraulic dam, or dissect a tulip bulb. Maybe she can build a miniature (working) windmill. With popsicle sticks.

“No,” she says,  “I want to watch green beans rot.”

Fantastic. Why is it that science experiments always involve all things gross and disgusting? I envision a filthy decomposing pile of rubbish on my mother’s kitchen counter, and sigh. “I’m sure grandma will be delighted,” I say, and hope for the best. My mother, when I give her the good news, doesn’t seem fazed. This is probably because she doesn’t remember anything about children and the messes they make. No worries, she will find out soon enough.

Over the next few days, while we anxiously await our departure, my sister prepares several dishes with raw and partially cooked beans. My brother offers us a forgotten piece of bell pepper that he discovered in the back of his fridge. “No, thanks,” I tell him, “we’re only doing beans.”  Soon, photographs of said beans start to arrive on my email, and discussions about my father’s illness are interspersed with comments about mold and questions about whether the outside experiment will be eaten by those famous Amsterdam pigeons. Once we arrive in Holland, we take daily photographs of beans that rot, beans that freeze, beans that get covered in snow, and beans that dry out. Not to be outdone in the nastiness-department, our son busies himself with a few experiments of his own: he throws about eight farm fresh eggs down the stairs at an uncle’s house, then quickly follows this up with a “stick your finger in the bunny cage and see what happens” investigation. That’s okay; this trip, everybody gets a chance to shine. Besides, it’s handy to know that eggs, when thrown down the stairs onto a concrete floor, will break every time, and that bunnies don’t know the difference between a juicy carrot and a finger.

It occurs to me that we were all ready to be a little distracted from the situation we found ourselves in; we just didn’t know how until the Friedel Science Fair threw us a lifeline. 

Chabad Hosts Susie Fishbein

Jewish Press, June 2008

On the evening of June 2^nd, approximately forty women from many different segments of the Omaha community came together at Chabad of Nebraska to enjoy a cooking demonstration by Susie Fishbein. Susie Fishbein is the author of the wildly successful Kosher by Design cookbook series. She has appeared on The Today Show with Katie Couric, Allie & Jack, Sheila Bridges Designer Living, on several network news show cooking segments, as well as an appearance on Martha Stewart Radio. She has taught at the prestigious Degustibus cooking school in New York, and was featured at Disneyworld at the Epcot International Food and Wine Festival.

The evening started with a wine and cheese reception, and an opportunity to meet with Susie Fishbein. The public was then invited into the Chabad kitchen and dining hall, where Shani Katzman gave a short introduction. “Never expect to come to Chabad without learning something new,” she said, “and since it’s almost Shavuot, we can talk about the importance of dairy foods during this holiday. It’s also essential to remember that kosher calories don’t count”. She then went on to explain how, after receiving the Torah, the Jewish people are like newborn children, who need to be nurtured on milk. “In addition,” she continued, “The numerical value of the Hebrew word for milk, chalav, is forty, which reminds us of the forty days and forty nights Moses spent on Mount Sinai receiving the Torah.”

            During the demonstration, Fishbein proved that she is both a knowledgeable chef, and a very entertaining speaker. She started off by saying that “Shani Katzman could not be lovelier to work with,” and had many compliments for Kelly Kirk, who put the evening together. “I love to see how Jewish people live in other parts of the country,” she said, “ and giving these cooking demonstrations allows me to meet with many different communities.” Fishbein took questions form the audience as she demonstrated how to cook an attractive, Kosher, three-course meal. “Only a Jewish girl would think of filling a martini glass with hummus,” Fishbein admitted, as she showed the audience how to make her Middle Eastern Martinis, the recipe for which can be found in her “Short on Time” cookbook. She then went on to make a salmon entrée, as well as a crème brulee dessert, which was perfect for Shavuot. Visitors were given samples of all the food, which had been prepared ahead of time in the Chabad kitchen by a team of volunteers. “Without volunteer help, we never could have pulled this off,” Kelly Tichauer- Kirk said, “and I want to thank Shani, Estie and Shevi Katzman, as well as Cheryl Lerner, Devra Bram, Kim Novak, Sherry and Chelsea Taxman, Joanne Andresen, and Marty Tichauer for all the hard work they put in.”

            Fishbein doesn’t limit herself to writing for adults, but is adamant that children need to become familiar with all the kitchen has to offer. She even wrote “Kosher by Design for Kids”, which contains recipes that go far beyond the peanut butter sandwich, but are nonetheless easy to make for children of all ages. “The most heartbreaking comments I get during my presentations are those from newlywed people who come up to me and admit they don’t even know how to boil water,” she said. “Kids belong in the kitchen, and we as parents shouldn’t be afraid to let them help out. Children as young as three can pop the shells off of chickpeas, and besides, letting them cook something is the best way to make them eat and try something new.” When asked what the worst thing was she had ever tried in her test kitchen, she answered: “One time, I attempted to create a strawberry pretzel crust dessert. After about seven tries, my family begged me to stop. I never did figure that one out.” Fishbein spiced up her presentation by sharing anecdotes of what life is like for a celebrity cook: “When my cookbook Kosher by Design for Children came out, my children did some of the promotional work. It happened to be the Christmas season, so here were all the Fishbein children, being featured on a set decorated for Christmas brunch,” she laughed.

            Volunteer and attendant Kim Novak enjoyed herself immensely: “I always have such a great time at Chabad events, but this one was particularly nice. I was happy to be a part of it, and amazed at all the practical advice Susie Fishbein gave us. I will certainly use her tips in my own kitchen. I also enjoyed Shani Katzman’s introduction; she is always able to offer useful insights, as well as Jewish connections.”

            In addition to the volunteers, many different sponsors made the evening possible. Bag ‘n Save, Absolutely Fresh Seafood Company, Ideal Pure Water, Hy-Vee, United Rental, Nebraska Warehouse, Mike Sullivan, and Wal-Mart donated food as well as services.

           

 

 

 

 

Dancing Barefoot in the Rain

This column previously appeared in The Jewish Press, June 2008

Spring is here; the jar that my daughter brings to me says so. Inside, I find a bug and some leafy greens; she proudly tells me she “screwed the lid on extra tight so Mr. Bug won’t escape”. I explain that Mr. Bug probably won’t survive the lack of oxygen, and with a disappointed look she takes her brand-new pet back outside and releases him.  In truth, I don’t have the faintest idea how long a bug can live in a jar, but I’m not willing to find out. There’s a reason I have the exterminator stop by my house every two months.

Fortunately, there are other ways to freak your parents out when the weather gets nice, and my children know them all. We’ve already had the first accident (our daughter Isabella falling out of a tree) and the first really dumb idea (our son Mendel using a rake to play horse while standing in a wheelbarrow). Our kids find that nice weather is best enjoyed in an atmosphere of danger.

            I am not entirely convinced I am the right parent for the season. I hate bugs, and I don’t like swimming. I despise that the maple tree in front of my house seems to drop a hundred branches every time the wind blows, and that the hot sun makes the trashcan smell like something furry died in there; most of all, I hate how by the time my house settles down it is too dark to truly enjoy my garden. Of course, I would love to be a fun mom, and sometimes I think I am, but these days I mostly hear myself say things like Stop stepping on the flowers, That roof is not for climbing, and, most popular of all: Get out of the compost heap! No wonder my children look at me as if they wish I’d turn into a garden gnome. What fun is a back yard if you can’t get dirty and destroy things? Where’s my summer spirit?

            When I was little, I practically lived outside during the summer. I grew up near the woods, and there wasn’t a tree I didn’t climb, an adventure I didn’t have, or a dare I didn’t fall for. The only rule my parents had was: “be home in time for dinner”, and even that I often didn’t stick to (Sorry, mom). Yet now that I am a mother myself, and my children’s outside is the size of a postage stamp compared to the world I used to play in, I am suddenly the biggest chicken on the block. Obviously, it’s time for an attitude adjustment.

            Someone very smart once told me that G-d does not perform unnecessary miracles; if you can fix things yourself, He will not split the Red Sea for you. So now what? I decide I have to set some new ground rules, starting with less interference on my part. This means, if Isabella and Mendel are outside, let them be outside in the fullest sense of the word. So what if they get dirty, so what if their shins bruise until they look like the map of Europe; it’s not the end of the world if they wear the signs of summer. And with Memorial Day just around the corner, we have many warm months ahead of us, so I might as well relax. And they don’t need to know that I peek out the window every two minutes, and then give myself a stern talking to. Maybe I’ll get really brave and introduce some shock treatment: next time there’s a summer storm, we can all go outside and dance barefoot in the rain.

Let’s hope it stays dry until deep into August.