On the Village: Parsnip Collard Soup

Today we had a delayed opening for my son's school.  One of the mothers from down the street called me to ask if she could drop her son off here, because she had to get to work.  And I reassured her that yes, of course, that was fine, any time she needed to do so ... because I remember those days, those days of complete panic because neither parent could afford to be late for work, which was never closed.  She thanked me profusely, and mentioned to me that she's collecting a bag of clothes for N., hand me downs from her four year old daughter.  We've been trading hand-me-downs; I gave her a bag for herself the other day, things from my closet that I knew would look better on her.  I'm loving this give and take.  It feels like we're realigning the balance of the universe.

In a sane moment while the kids were all playing with Magformers in the living room, where I could see and hear them, I shoveled our walkway and sidewalk, so that no one would slip and damage themselves on their way to the bus stop later.  I ran into our neighbor, who was leaving her house, looking worried, promising me that her boyfriend would get to the shoveling later, that she couldn't do it because she'd pulled some muscles and possibly cracked a rib the other day.  I told her not to worry, that I could easily clear her sidewalk and path to the house when I had a few more minutes, once the boys were on the bus and I had only N. to watch.  She looked doubtful, but I did it anyway.  Because it was the right thing to do.  And now there will be one less property for the kids to slip in on their walk home from the bus.  I suspect that some day, she will take in my garbage cans, or pick up the recycling that the wind blew all over my back yard.

Yesterday I dropped a huge box and two bags of books off at the library.  I've talked before about my love affair with books, and how hard it is for me to part with them, but the truth is that, looking at my bookshelves, I decided I just didn't need them.  Some of them were from my first graduate school career, some were from the early days when I thought I could learn parenting from a book.  Some were novels I knew I'd never read again.  And it was good to give them away.  Someone else could use them.  And I've picked up my share of discards.

I did the same thing with my closet, clearing out two bags of clothes, and even my jewelry box, giving away things that I didn't need to two friends from church.  And told them that I wouldn't be offended if they needed to pass things along, or bring them to the next clothing swap.

The other day I brought a meal to a family; the mother had been sledding with her children and fell, suffering a severe concussion that has left her with some memory loss, vision issues, and headaches.  She wrote a very sweet note to me, thankful for the meal, and hoping that some day she could return the favor.  I wrote back that it was my pleasure, and that the real return would be her getting better.  I think back to all of the meals that people brought me when N. was born, and I know what a gift that was.

I'm not a do-gooder, nor am I looking for congratulations or compliments.  I'm not even a very nice person all of the time.  I yell at my kids.  I say mean things about the neighbor who leaves 20 bags of trash for the garbage truck week after week because he's too cheap to get a dumpster for his remodeling project.  And on the flip side, I've been on the receiving end of generosity plenty of times, too.  But I've been thinking that I really wish the world were more this way, more like a neighborhood where people didn't take more than they needed, where they gave things to neighbors who could use them, where they watched each other's children at a moment's notice not because they had a prearranged co-op (which, don't get me wrong, is great too) but because sometimes it's hard to do everything.  Where we were willing to understand each other, and look out for each other, even if we didn't feel like being nice all of the time.

I like this soup because it's a little bit of everything: smoky, sweet, spicy, smooth, chunky.  Sort of like I wish we were, too.

How have you experienced the give and take of the village?

Parsnip Collard Soup
Adapted from Jan's Sushi Bar

2 T. extra virgin olive oil
2/3 c. onion, diced
1/2 c. celery, diced
1/2 c. red bell pepper, diced
1/2 t. ground coriander
3/4 t. ground cumin
1/2 t. smoked paprika
1 t. chili powder
3/4 lb. parsnips, peeled and cut into large chunks
3 c. water, divided
1 1/2 t. kosher salt
1/2 t. pepper
4 c. collards or kale, coarsely chopped
1 ham hock (optional; if you prefer a vegan soup, add 1 can of beans and an extra 1/2 t. smoked paprika)

Heat the olive oil over medium heat in a medium soup pot. Saute the onions, celery and red bell pepper for about 3 minutes, until the onions begin to become translucent.  Add spices and saute for a minute or two, until fragrant.  Add 2 c. of water and the parsnips and ham hock; cover and reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer until the parsnips fall apart when you poke them, about 10 minutes.

Remove the soup from heat and blend in a food processor or with an immersion blender until you've reached the desired consistence.  Add the greens and the remaining water (and beans if you're doing the vegan version) and return the mixture to the pot; cover and simmer until the greens are tender.  Season to taste and serve.