Passing the Baton: Summer Squash and Mushroom Mini-Pies

I haven't really been running very much lately.  It's impossible to do on the weekdays, with N. to consider, and it's even a challenge on the weekends, given all of the things we have to fit into those 48 hours.  So it should come as no surprise that I'm pudgier where I wasn't before, and that I get more winded than I used to, and that I'm just generally not in as awesome shape as I was before N. was born.
I got a chance to go this past weekend for a quick 5K loop, and was dragging my sorry butt past the bagel store when I spotted her.  Fiftysomething, tanned (but not withered), muscular (but not sinewy), rubber-band like, platinum blonde in skin-tight black running clothes, adjusting her water and goo belt.  She looked at me, and there was a moment of recognition: perhaps she saw in me my former skinnier more energetic self; perhaps she saw herself from a previous life.  Whatever it was, she grinned as I drew nearer, and said, "lookin' good, sister!"

I shook my head and made a "ugh" face, but she held out her hand for me to slap as I passed her by.  I hesitated for a split second, and then extended mine.  SLAP.  "There you go," she shouted after me.  "That's your energy now, girl.  Remember that when you're running out of steam at the end."

I thought about a lot of things during the rest of that run.  I thought about the times when I've said something like that to someone else I thought might need a little inspiration.  I thought about what I must have looked like to elicit such a response from her.  But most of all, I found myself thinking about that hand slap, and the energy that she claimed got transferred as we passed each other.

The thing is, I could swear I ran a little faster.  My hand tingled, and if I let it, my arm tingled.  If I really thought about it, my toes tingled.

Life is like the love-child of a relay race and a marathon.  In some ways, we run the distance alone.  But in others, the passing of the baton, the slapping of the hand as we pass by our fellow runners, especially the ones who are outpacing us, already on the way back, can make all the difference.  How many times have we extended our own hands to pass that energy on to another?  How many times has someone offered that hand to us?  And how many times have we accepted it, despite the fact that it means looking in the face of success, and maybe feeling a little bit like we haven't reached the place where we want to be just yet?

These are good for days when you're on the run.  And they're also good to drop into the hand of someone you love as they pass by on a parallel track.

Summer Squash and Mushroom Mini-Pie

Crust
2 c. flour (I use at least half whole wheat pastry, sometimes all whole wheat pastry)
1/2 t. salt
1/2 c. oil (canola or olive)
1/4 to 1/2 c. boiling water

Preheat oven to 350. Combine flour and salt. In a glass measuring cup, combine oil and water. Pour wet ingredients into dry ingredients, and fork together until the dough starts to form a ball. It should be smooth; if it's too sticky, add more flour until it bounces back just a bit when you poke it. Divide into two balls.

Filling
1 T. olive oil
5 oz. mushrooms
1 medium to large zucchini
1/2 onion
1-2 t. oregano or rosemary
salt and pepper to taste
1/2 cup greek yogurt
1 egg, beaten

Chop up veggies into large bite sized pieces. Heat olive oil in a large saucepan and saute the zucchini and onion until the onion is starting to become translucent, about 5 minutes. Add mushrooms and herbs and salt/pepper and saute until almost dry.

Let cool, and add the greek yogurt. Mix well.

Assembly
Roll out the first ball of dough and cut small pieces of your crust (about 5 inches in diameter, maybe) and press into a small silicone muffin tin (you can use regular muffin tins but I loved how they just popped right out of mine). Fill with filling. Roll out the second ball and use a drinking glass to cut circles for the tops of the pies. Crimp the edges shut.

Brush with egg and bake for about 30 minutes.

The Value of a Life, and Zucchini Fritters

The lovely Athena from A Field of Dreams awarded me a Blog of Substance award. I'm humbled to receive this considering that I've been the world's most unpredictable post-er lately ... but I'll try to have substance today, and pass the award on next time (so I have a good reason to get my arse in gear and write again).

I've mentioned before how I was raised by parents who were both frugal and extravagant when it came to money.  We pinched pennies at the grocery store, but my father drove a Mercedes Benz.   We patched clothes, but I went to dance and piano lessons.  We ate, but we went on a family vacation every summer, often to some international (Spanish-speaking, because my dad was from Spain, via Cuba) destination.  I inherited this somewhat bipolar approach to finances; from a young age, I evaluated and appreciated things in terms of their monetary value, pinching pennies at home so that I could afford the occasional big ticket items for my family (and, so I'm not kidding myself, the occasional Frapuccino).

Which makes being a professional-turned-SAHM a bit of a psychological challenge.  How do I appreciate the value of my work if I'm not being paid?  And then, how do I reconcile this kind of value with the fact that I'm bleeding money these days without replenishing the family bank account?  There are the usual expenses, of course, and then there was a small car accident earlier this summer, and a speeding ticket that will require a court appearance (I'm really not a reckless driver ... don't judge me on the basis of these two events!), and little outings with my son (like the trip to a place in our town that serves high tea for children -- his request), and the things (mostly consumables) I buy because I'm home wandering the streets, and ... well, you get the idea.

To make matters worse, there is the small matter of the potential salary cut I'd be taking if this job offer does come through ... and the fact that almost every other job people have been sending me is at a range lower than where I was before.  Does this mean that my potential value on the market is really so low, even if I were making money to contribute to household expenses?  Was my former position a fluke?

It sounds mercenary to think in these terms, but it's hard not to when there are bills to be paid, and when I seem to keep generating so many of them myself.

And yet, when I think of the value of others, I don't think in those terms at all ...

My friend who is in heart failure has been struggling over the past week with a balloon assist, with various meds, and finally with an external pump to help his heart recover.  None of this has been proving particularly successful, and they finally decided, today, to go forward with a transplant.  So they're waiting for a heart to "harvest," possibly as early as within the next 24 hours.

It's a very strange feeling to be praying for someone's death so that someone else might live, but that's where I am right now.  The world would be a measurably darker place without my friend; I need him, selfishly, to live.  His two little boys and his wife, who are among the most wonderful people I know, need him.  His fellowship needs him.  His friends need him.  And yet, how can I tell the universe (or whoever happens to be listening) that his life is worth more than the life of someone who might be a potential donor?

These fritters are supposed to be inspired by Southern cooking, so I'm posting them here in honor of my friend, who is a stay at home dad and probably the best example of Southern hospitality I know.  One of the things that I love about him (among so many things -- his centeredness, his faith, his generosity) is that he seems not to question the value of his contribution to his family and to the world; he's comfortable knowing that his living makes a difference.  Though it's almost a morbid thing to hope for, I hope that there is someone out there who can live on in him through their heart.  I know that he would take good care of it, and put it to the best possible use.

Zucchini Fritters

2 c. grated summer squash or zucchini
1/4 c. all purpose flour
1/3 c. cornmeal
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 egg, beaten
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
Kosher salt and black pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 400F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Press the squash between layers of a clean tea towel to get rid of excess moisture. In a bowl, mix all the ingredients together. It should form a sticky mass. If at first it seems dry, continue to stir—the salt will cause the zucchini to ‘sweat’, and it will get wetter.

Drop heaping spoonfuls onto the parchment paper, and then flatten with the spoon to form 2-3 inch rounds. You don’t want these to be very thick, as we want them to crisp up.

Bake for 15 minutes or so, until the fritters are deep golden brown on the bottom. Then broil on high for 2-3 minutes, until the fritters are completely crunchy on the outside, and still give a bit on the inside.

A Lesson in Versatility: Calabacitas

One of my most vivid summer memories from childhood is the view from the back stoop of our house, looking out at the lush greenery of my father's small but overgrown garden. There were always too many tomato plants, too many kohlrabis, too many of everything ... especially zucchinis. My father took great pride in his "bastóns," though, growing them as large as baseball bats, just because he could.  My mother would curse them under her breath as they lined the counters; she didn't have much counter space to begin with.  I would often be charged with the responsibility of bringing paper bags full of the vegetable to unsuspecting neighbors, who would always politely accept the "gift."  I also recall selling them from a small shaky plastic table on our street corner, which, in retrospect, must have seemed pretty weird to passersby, given that I grew up in the middle of suburbia, New Jersey.

Now, as an adult with a CSA membership, I have come to understand that it's better to be armed with an arsenal of summer squash recipes than to make innocent children responsible for your oversupply.  My mother's repertoire was somewhat limited to sauteeing in olive oil or grating into zucchini breads, but I've learned that they're a lot more versatile than that.  As I've worked our way through yet another week of the stuff, I'm reminded of that great quote from Forrest Gump: "You can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, bake it, saute it. Dey's uh, shrimp-kabobs, shrimp creole, shrimp gumbo. Pan fried, deep fried, stir-fried. There's pineapple shrimp, lemon shrimp, coconut shrimp, pepper shrimp, shrimp soup, shrimp stew, shrimp salad, shrimp and potatoes, shrimp burger, shrimp sandwich. That- that's about it." Bubba nailed it: just substitute "zucchini" for "shrimp," add "cake" and "bread," and you're pretty well prepared for the onslaught.

This is a pretty, quick, simple Southwestern vegetarian dish that also takes advantage of the local corn that's also in abundance at farmers' markets at this time of year in my corner of the world.  It's good with tortillas for a light meal. 

Wouldn't it be nice if we were all as versatile and agreeable to all dinner companions as the humble summer squash?  Yes, yes, it would be.

Calabacitas

3-4 T. olive oil, divided
1 c. finely chopped onion
2-4 cloves of garlic, minced
2 1/2 c. diced summer squash
2 1/2 c. diced zucchini
2 c. corn kernels, fresh or frozen

6 scallions, chopped (3/4 cup)
1/2 c. chopped mild green chiles, roasted, with skin removed (or a small can of diced green chiles)
1 cup diced ripe Roma tomatoes
1/2 c. firmly packed coarsely chopped fresh cilantro leaves (I totally forgot this in mine, and it was OK)
1/2 c. cream or grated Jack cheese (optional)
1/2 teaspoon salt

Heat 2 T. of the oil in a large skillet and saute the onion for about 4 minutes over medium-high heat. Add the garlic and saute 2 minutes longer.  Add the squash and zucchini and saute 5 minutes longer, until softened.

Add the remaining 1 to 2 T. of oil with the corn, scallions, and chiles and saute 3 minutes longer.  Stir in the tomatoes, cilantro, and cream (if desired) and heat through, about 5 minutes.

Season with salt. Serve hot or warm.

Devotions: Chocolate Zucchini Muffins

I've been terrible about posting lately.  It's funny; you'd think that I'd have more time, being a stay at home mom and all.  But life has had a funny way of catching me up in the current, and it's been moving pretty quickly.  I found myself nodding in agreement with Mel's recent posts about not being able to keep up: with Facebook feeds, Twitter feeds, blogging comments ... all of which I tend to put before my own writing.  Probably not ideal if you're aiming for regular writing practice, which was, once upon a time, the original purpose of this blog.

And then there's the job scene.  It turns out that I did, indeed, nail that interview.  I've had a tentative offer, and I'm going to talk with them about numbers tomorrow.  The down side is that the numbers are not good.  It's a grant, and they have a limited budget.  Like, $20K less than I was making limited.  And I'd need to pay for another child in day care (part of the craziness has been the search for, and interviews with, potential in-home day care providers), which makes the numbers look even worse.  And it's a grade lower, though that's a blow to my ego.  On the plus side, they are good people.  And it's an important project.  The question is whether it's the right decision for me.  I'm still not sure ... and am hoping I get some clarity, in a hurry.

In the meantime, one of our best friends was diagnosed with heart failure.  He is only a few years older than I am, and in incredible shape: runs half marathons without sweating, bikes miles and miles without a second thought, swims ... and is the energetic stay at home dad to two truly wonderful kids, aged 2 and 5.  It was such a shock to hear the news, and right now, it's hard to think of anything else.  Though today he's doing better, and his heart is beating on its own, there is still the possibility of a transplant, and even without that, the figuring out of what to do about help with the kids over these next few months.  Though this is going to sound ridiculous, part of me doesn't want to go back to work, so that I can help take care of his kids while he heals.  I've been watching my friends go through this, admiring their calm, level-headed strength, and wondering if I'd be capable of the same if I ever found myself where they are right now.

And in much more mundane news, our CSA continues to teach us to make do with what we're given.  As my son says (or rather, as his teacher taught him), "you get what you get, and you don't get upset."  It's been four weeks straight of not much else besides cucumbers and zucchini (and not even good produce, at that), and I've been trying to keep the menu interesting, with squash soup, zucchini frittata, calabacitas, zucchini crusted pizza, zuccanoes, zucchini pancakes (unlinked recipes coming soon) ... and these chocolate zucchini muffins.  They actually turned out quite well, and I froze them, and then ... well ... defrosted them and ate them.  Because they're, like, healthy.  Right?

In yoga this month, we were practicing Hanumanasana, which is basically a split.  Years ago, when I was taking regular dance classes, I could do splits; now, I am thankful for bolsters and blankets that my teacher surreptitiously places next to us as class is in session.  Hanumanasana teaches us to be completely open, but also to love where we're at instead of cursing ourselves for not getting it "right."  It symbolizes (and actually looks like) a leap of devotion, not necessarily to another, but possibly to ourselves, understanding that knowing deep love and knowing our highest selves is one in the same.  So much of where I am right now is mid-leap.  Perhaps that's the same for all of us?

Chocolate Zucchini Muffins
 
2 eggs
2 cups shredded zucchini
1 3/4 cup flour
1 cup buttermilk
2/3 cup sugar
1/2 cup oil
1/2 cup cocoa
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon cloves
1/4 teaspoon allspice

Preheat oven to 350. Grease and flour or line 12 wells in a muffin tin. Set aside. In a large bowl, mix together the eggs, oil and buttermilk. Add in all of the dry ingredients, including spices. Mix thoroughly. Stir in zucchini. Fill the prepared wells about 3/4 of the way. Bake 30-40 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the center muffin comes out mostly clean.

What's a UU? 7th Principle Muffins: In Which I Get Religion

I'm about to talk about one of the things you're never supposed to talk about in polite conversation.  Hopefully you'll stick around at the table.

I had the occasion, at a party the other day, to mention that I'm Unitarian Universalist (UU).  When I tell people this, they usually look at me like I'm Satan spawn, or at least like I'm a little less credible in the realm of spirituality.

It's sort of funny that I ended up a UU; my husband and I were married by a UU minister, simply because my husband was raised without religion, I was raised Catholic (and had long since left the church because it just wasn't a good fit for me), and we wanted something more than just a civil ceremony, but I never in a million years thought that I'd be a member of a UU fellowship.  I remember sitting in the parking lot of the church where the minister who married us was going to meet us, watching people come out, and thinking "hm, so that's what Unitarians look like.  They're sort of ... weird."  My father, old-world Catholic that he was, almost had a heart attack when we told him what we were doing for our wedding, saying that UU's didn't believe in anything, begging me to reconsider.  Luckily for him, I guess, he didn't live long enough to see me sign the book in our church.  (Though in all seriousness, he probably would be glad that I at least go to a church.)

After a long hiatus from organized religion, when I was pregnant with my son, about five years ago, we started to look for a spiritual home.  It was less that I felt like I needed one, and more that we both wanted a community of somewhat like-minded people to help us raise our child with the kinds of values we espoused.  And though we happened upon this particular community by chance (it was a potluck picnic day when we arrived ... how ironic is that, given what you know about me?), it's really come to fit us.  Our fellowship is full of young families like ours (though there are plenty of older members, too, and single people, and divorcees, and every other kind of family configuration you can imagine), and the people really do live their values: they're people I find myself looking up to, and wanting to be when I grow up.

So what's a UU?  There are seven principles which Unitarian Universalist congregations affirm and promote:

1. The inherent worth and dignity of every person;
2. Justice, equity and compassion in human relations;
3. Acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth in our congregations;
4. A free and responsible search for truth and meaning;
5. The right of conscience and the use of the democratic process within our congregations and in society at large;
6. The goal of world community with peace, liberty, and justice for all;
7. Respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part (more on this, and muffins, in a minute).

Sources of wisdom include

• Words and deeds of prophetic women and men which challenge us to confront powers and structures of evil with justice, compassion, and love;
• Wisdom from the world's religions which inspires us in our ethical and spiritual life;
• Jewish and Christian teachings which call us to love our neighbors as ourselves;
• Humanist teachings which counsel us to heed the guidance of reason and the results of science, and warn us against idolatries of the mind and spirit;
• Spiritual teachings of earth-centered traditions which celebrate the sacred circle of life and instruct us to live in harmony with the rhythms of nature.

For me, those principles are a no-brainer.  They describe how I want to live my life. And the sources of wisdom are the things I've read all my life, that have shaken my foundations, or made me stop and hold my breath.

And it's funny ... I really do find myself thinking twice about my actions, sometimes, because of the community I belong to, and the way that it's required me to articulate my values.

The other day, I interviewed with an office, back at my previous employer, that seeks to recruit and retain women faculty members in the sciences ... to diversify the field.  I think I nailed the interview, though unfortunately, it would probably mean a drop in both salary and in title, if I were offered the job (not that I'm jumping the gun here). Thing is, I may be offered the opportunity to live my values.  To do something important for a change, besides cater mostly to people who would do just fine without me.  It's not often that such an opportunity falls into our laps, is it?  Do you get to live your values in your line of work?  (SAHMs are definitely included  in that question!)  Should I can this whole return to higher education, and just open a bakery already, or an online mail-order baked goods supply company (K, from Pull Up Your Potty Seat, says I should ... and even sent me a lovely gift toward my startup supplies ... thank you, K!)

These muffins are another way I get to live my values.  They're vegan (so they affirm the 7th principle of recognizing/appreciating the interdependent web of existence, and our role in tending that delicate web), and incredibly delicious.  This recipe is modified from one that was developed by one of our fellowship members; I promised not to reveal his secret, but I think I can share my version with you.

7th Principle Fruit and Nut Muffins

1/2 c. raisins
1 c. dried apricots, chopped
1 c. prunes, chopped
1 c. chopped walnuts, lightly toasted
1 c. chopped almonds, lightly toasted
4 T. flax seed neal mixed in 3/4 c. water, set aside to thicken 2-3 minutes
2/3 c. canola oil
2 t. vanilla
1/4 c. orange juice
2 c. white whole wheat flour
1 c. evaporated cane juice (fair trade, please)
2 t. baking soda
4 t. cinnamon
1/2 t. ginger
1/2 t. salt

Place dried fruit in a small saucepan and add enough water to cover.  Bring to a boil, remove from heat and let sit 15 minutes to plump fruit.  Drain.

Preheat oven to 400.  In a large bowl, blend dry ingredients with a whisk.  In a small bowl, blend flax mixture, oil, vanilla, juice; pour into a well in the middle of the dry ingredients and mix until just blended.  Fold in nuts and fruit.

Line 12 muffin tins with large liners, and fill each cup with a generous helping of batter.  Bake at 400 for 20-25 minutes, until lightly brown and springs back to touch.

Pretzels with My Son, the Rock Star

A few weeks ago was the final week of "church" services before our minister's summer break, and our annual celebration of the cool people who make our fellowship function, which, once you start taking stock of what committees people are on, is pretty much everyone sitting in the pews.

There are awards, though: Angel (for someone who gives of themselves to others in the fellowship), Rock Star Youth (for someone who lives their UU values), and Rock Star Child (for general cool UUness, I think).

Well, you can imagine my surprise when they arrived at the child award this year and called I's name.  S. and I looked at each other, our jaws on the floor.  Really?  Our child?  Sure, he's a happy kid, but it's not like he's baking pies to raise money for the homeless or anything (as one child actually did last year ... no lie).

But really, truth is, he's a good kid.  They talked about how he always has a smile for everyone, and makes people feel happy and at home.  That's true; in fact, it's been true since he was a baby.  And though I will take partial credit for who he is becoming, I also suspect that a lot of it is hard-wired.  I've neglected him in this blog lately, but really, without him being who he is, I would be a lot less sane right now.  No, he's not an angel.  (See the mischievous twinkle in his eye?)  But he's a doting big brother (his sister adores him, and clearly thinks that he walks on water), and when he does listen to directions, he's pretty agreeable.  He says things that are funny as hell, and more insightful than many adults I've known.  He stands up for himself most of the time, in a way that is gentle but firm.  He's a follower, but he can also be a leader.  And when I finally recovered from hearing his name called from the podium, my heart swelled with pride.

I. often likes to help in the kitchen (and has been known to take pictures of his food recently, claiming that he's going to post them to my blog.  Then he deletes them from his camera.  Nut.).  Last week we made soft pretzels, as a means of keeping the neighbor's kid entertained for 20 minutes during the day while we were taking care of him.  Though his friend had a hard time sitting still for the activity and it's probably more frustrating than I realized to work with pretzel dough the first time around, I. really did beautifully.  I'm picturing him here, showing off his "house," which no longer has any doors or windows because they got eaten.  Actually, it doesn't have much of a foundation any more, either.  But who's looking that closely?

If you have little people in your life, whether they live with you or not, this is a great activity for rainy days or hot days when you're stuck indoors (yes, I know, I shouldn't be turning on my oven on hot days, because my air conditioning works harder, sapping energy from the grid, etc. etc. ... trust me, this is not an every day occurrence).  And if you don't know any little people, it's still fun to play with the dough as an adult; it can take a pretty good beating, and it's not as temperamental as a loaf of bread.  The nice thing about this recipe is that you don't even have to wait for the dough to rise ... which can be difficult for people with a short attention span (no matter how old you are)!

Soft Pretzels

1 T. active dry yeast
1 ½ c. warm water
1 T. sugar
1 t. salt
4 c. flour
1 egg, beaten
kosher salt for sprinkling

Dissolve yeast into water.  Add in sugar and salt, mix well. Slowly add in 4 cups of flour. Mix and knead well for about 5 to 10 minutes. Add flour as needed to reduce stickiness.  The dough is finished when it is smooth and elastic. Now you can begin shaping pieces of the dough.  Place on a cookie sheet covered in parchment and/or lightly sprayed with old, brush with beaten egg* and sprinkle with salt.  Bake at 425 for 15 minutes or so until golden brown.

*you can also dip pretzels in a baking soda bath (½ cup hot water and 1 ½ tablespoon of baking soda), which is a nice option if you're vegan.

Finding My Tribe: Vegetarian Tortilla Soup

There have been some interesting posts around the blogosphere lately about friendship.  Mel wrote a great post about female friendships that has inspired quite the lively discussion and remembrance of friends past.  Trinity has been writing about her efforts as a relatively new SAHM to forge new relationships with others in that position, about how different she suspected they might be, and how, later, she discovered that they might not be so different after all.  Esperanza wrote about her relationship to the blogging community, and her difficulty finding friends in "real life" that she connects with in the same way she connects online.

All of these have had me thinking about my own friendship history, or lack thereof.  It's not that I don't have friends, but rather, that I've never had the kind of female friends that Mel describes, the ones that "profoundly change you" and set you on a new life path.  In elementary school, I was too smart and too different to be included.  I did have a series of "best friends" back then, but they were more like "only friends" than anything else, other social misfits like me.  In high school, I had another series of "best friends," but I've drifted apart from nearly all of them, for geographical and ideological reasons, though we now stalk each other on fb.  In college, I had a group of great friends, many of whom I'm still in touch with, but I connected better with the males than the females--so much so that I had a "dude of honor" at our wedding, instead of a maid or a matron.

Soon after I had my son four years ago, I joined and was soon kicked out of the stay-at-home-moms group because I wasn't attending enough of their meetings, despite the fact that I actually took days off to attend playdates--talk about neurotic!  They weren't really my tribe anyway, and I started a working moms group in my county, in the hopes of finding other women who were dealing with the same challenges I was.  Now, four years later, oddly enough, though I do count many of those women as friends, I feel like it's created more close relationships for the other members of the group than it has for me.  To be honest, I've always been a little bit jealous of those women for whom those relationships seem to come so easily, and wondered what I was missing, what I was doing wrong.

In the past year or so, I've noticed that I finally seem to be developing more friendships with women.  I still don't think I would call them at three a.m. for a two hour conversation, but they're people I trust, and to whom I relate.  I don't know what's precipitated the change, other than the fact that maybe I'm becoming more willing to let down my own guard; it could just be that I've finally met the right people.  It could also be that technology has given me a platform that allows me to build relationships in a safer space, strange as that may sound.  We've all read about the ways in which social media isolates us, but in other ways, I suspect that it enables relationships that would never otherwise exist.


I adapted this recipe to my own tastes and dietary leanings from one originally published by the one and only Pioneer Woman.  It's particularly apt because as I was enjoying a long walk with a friend this past week we discovered that we'd both just been looking at it recently.  This soup is good for summer: unfussy, but filling, a little spicy, and highly adaptable ... just like good friends should be.

Tell us: do you have a "best friend" as Mel describes?  How did you find your "tribe"?

Vegetarian Tortilla Soup

1½ t. cumin
1 t. chili powder
½ t. garlic powder
½ t. salt
1 T. olive oil
1 c. diced onion
½ c. diced red bell pepper
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 can (10 Oz. Can) Rotel tomatoes and green chilies
32 oz. (4 c.) low sodium vegetable stock
3 T. tomato paste
4 cups hot water
2 cans (15 Oz. Can) black beans, drained and rinsed
½ c. frozen corn
3 T. cornmeal
5 corn tortillas, cut into 2-3" strips


garnishes:
sour cream/greek yogurt
diced avocado
diced red onion
grated monterey jack or cheddar
cilantro

Heat olive oil in a pot over medium high heat. Add onions, red pepper, and minced garlic. Stir and begin cooking, then add the spice mix. Stir to combine.

Pour in tomatoes, stock, tomato paste, water, and black beans. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to a simmer. Simmer for 45 minutes, uncovered.

Mix cornmeal with a small amount of water. Pour into the soup, then simmer for an additional 30 minutes. Check seasonings, adding more if needed—add more chili powder if it needs more spice, and be sure not to undersalt. Add the frozen corn. Turn off heat and allow to sit for 15 to 20 minutes before serving. Five minutes before serving, gently stir in tortilla strips.

Ladle into bowls, then top with whatever garnishes you like!