This salad comes together in minutes and goes with everything. It’s also very pretty: the intense hues of the vegetables contrast with the mild green of the dressing. All it takes is a sturdy food processor.
Group A: Vegetables
2 medium carrots
1 raw beet, peeled
1 raw fennel bulb
2 bell peppers
10 little radishes
Group B: Dressing
100g plain yogurt (I use the Kite Hill Greek style plant-based yogurt; it has lots of protein and is the most delicious of its ilk)
1 small avocado
big handful of each: green onions, parlsey, cilantro
1 lime, peeled
1 mandarin, peeled
Zap all components of Group A in food processor until confetti-like. Scoop into a big bowl. Then, zap all components of Group A in food processor until smooth. Pour over bowl. Enjoy!
It’s been a while since I posted about food, and not for lack of eating. With full-time parenting, full-time working, and full-time studying, I’ve had little time to make labor intensive foods, and even more so to take pictures and post about what I cook. Nevertheless, sourdough is still baked on a weekly basis at this house, and vegan meals get put on the table. One thing I’m going to do regularly for the foreseeable future is prep nutritious weekday lunches every Sunday; these come together in less than an hour and are really good to keep in the fridge.
The idea comes from my coach Karina Inkster, who held a food prep party via Zoom last week and inspired me to keep doing this. It’s pretty simple: you roast a ton of wholesome ingredients, lightly steam some greens, make a dressing, and pack everything in lunch-size containers. The ingredients for the meal pictured above are (amounts specified for five weekday lunches):
1 big sweet potato (purple, in this case)
3 medium-sized Jerusalem artichokes
1 purple cauliflower and 1 white cauliflower
1/2 red cabbage
1-2 cans chickpeas
1-2 blocks tofu
1 large bunch kale
Heat up oven to 400F. Chop all ingredients, except the kale, into 1/2-inch cubes. Place on baking trays (spray with a bit of olive oil), lightly salt and pepper, and bake for about 40-45 mins. The kale should then be stemmed and lightly steamed.
While all of this is going on, make the dressing; I made this one.
Mix all the ingredients except the dressing and pack into lunch-sized containers (I filled five to the brim). When it’s time to serve, you can heat on the stove or microwave for 2 mins or so, drizzle the dressing, and enjoy!
Today the sages continue with their project of defining the rebellious son as narrowly as possible. Part of the biblical definition of a rebellious son includes the description זוֹלֵל וְסֹבֵא, which means excessively stuffing one’s face with food. The goal of today’s page is to provide the most outlandishly extreme benchmarks for eating, which made me think of a book I read last week: Jason Fagone’s excellent (and marvelously titled) Horsemen of the Esophagus.
Jason, currently an investigative reporter with the San Francisco Chronicle, is someone I like, admire, and respect a lot from back in the days that we were both at the front lines of the COVID-19-in-prison crisis. He was part of the team that broke the story about the San Quentin outbreak and was reporting heartwrenching stories that shocked and surprised even those of us who were on the phone every day with the people inside and their families. I therefore value not only his turn of phrase, but also his vast empathy and curiosity. And both of those qualities are in full display even in this earlier work. There would be nothing easier than to present competitive eaters as freakish and grotesque, or as dupes of crass marketing ploys, but Jason takes them and their project seriously, on their own terms; they are aware of the financial side of the enterprise and the health risks, but they treat what they do seriously, consider themselves athletes, and have a considerable part of their identities wrapped up in these competitions.
Some of the descriptions of food in this daf reminded me of Jason’s book, as will become immediately apparent. The starting point is the Mishna, which says:
So according to the Mishna, to be a rebellious son you have to be a glutton in all the following ways: (1) eat both meat and wine, to the tune of (2) a tharteimar (?) of meat and (3) half a log of Italian (!) wine, (4) eat non-kosher things, (5) not eat in a group and (5) not eat something that is a mitzvah to eat. That doesn’t leave you with a lot of transgressive meals, so to rise to the level of a rebellious son it has to be a truly outrageous, over-the-top meal indeed. Can the Gemara sages top that?
How much meat and wine? Rabbi Zeira doesn’t know what a “tharteimar” is, but believes that since the wine amount is double what you expect someone to consume, it’s the same re the meat portion, and so a “tharteimar” is “half a maneh”.
What cost of meat and wine? According to Rav Huna, inexpensive stuff (paraphrasing Woody Allen–the food was so bad and the portions so big).
How should the meat and wine be prepared? Rav Hanan cites Rav Huna: raw meat and “live” (unstrained? undiluted?) wine. Others disagree and think eating these things is actually fine. Ravina proposes a compromise: medium-rare meat and improperly diluted wine. Rabba & Rav Yosef: eating salted meat is fine, as is drinking wine straight from the press (essentially grape juice). This last comment leads to a long segue about the kosher qualities of salted meat, how long is should be salted for, and how long the wine should ferment for (three days, says a baraita, which I think should surprise some friends in Napa and Sonoma).
The concern with the rawness of the meat and wine has to do with what can and cannot be eaten on Tish’a be-Av, the memorial day for the destruction of the temple. But that discussion is a good springboard for a general round of commentary about the virtues of drinking in moderation. The various rabbis provide some zingers, with which you can charm everyone at your next pub crawl, champagne tasting, or AA meeting:
One example of the harms of drinking too much is Noah, whose nakedness was witnessed by his youngest child after he blacked out in his tent. This, by the way, leads to a side discussion about what, precisely, the youngest child did, which we’ll leave out of this. But at least Rabbi Zakai–and possibly also Rabbi Meir connects Noah’s misfortune to the banishment of Adam from Heaven, which he blames on wine (a dispute erupts on whether the infamous tree in Eden was a vine).
In what company? Rebellious sons eat in the company of empty nothings (סְרִיקִין). According to the sages, even if there are some worthy companions, if they are gathered for idle purposes, the rebellious son is still liable.
What’s the timing of the meal? During the full moon, there’s a celebratory meal (to which you’re supposed to arrive at daybreak) with only grains and legumes. But if the rebellious son eats meat and wine there, he’s at least participating in the ritual, so it doesn’t count. Similarly, if the meal is a second tithe in Jerusalem, it’s fine.
What sort of meat? Chicken is fine, according to Rava; insects and creepers are not. But Rava speaks of diet generally, rather than on the excessive addition of bad foods. Transgressive food in itself does not render one a rebellious son, because the essence of the offense is disobeying one’s parents, rather than God.
Meat- and wine-analogues? The rabbis argue that it has to be actual meat and actual wine. Drinking other intoxicating things, like honey and milk, doesn’t count. Also, eating other filling things, like dried figs, does not count.
So, you see, these are very specific, peculiar ways to binge and overindulge; your regular bingeing and overindulgence do not land you in biblical trouble. We will continue to see these narrow interpretations in the next few days.
There are plenty of instructive takes about yesterday’s presidential debate you can read in other places, but one point of contention been left unpacked. I’m talking about Trump’s scaremongering regarding immigrants eating pets. Judging from my socials, many people found this hilarious, taking pictures of their cats in pots and pans, etc. There’s more than a modicum of irony in this mockery, which seems to have escaped everyone on all sides of the political question: what Trump and his detractors share is the idea that eating dogs and cats is absurd and abominable, while eating cows, chickens, and pigs is completely normal and reasonable.
Cultures differ dramatically, worldwide, in their food taboos, and feel very strongly about them. French people are fine eating horses, snails, and frogs. People throughout East Asia eat dogs (because of the Western obsession with dogs as pets, this is a particularly pernicious thing to deploy against Asians). People worldwide eat a variety of insects. If one recoils from eating animal X while devouring animal Y without giving it a second thought, it is practically assured that someone elsewhere in the world has the opposite view and is just as viscerally disgusted with Y-eating folks as their counterpart is with X-eating folks.
To summarize: the Trump-mocking folks are stuck in the same moral and logical rut as the subject of their derision:
Trump: “These immigrants are gross! They eat Y, while we eat X!”
Trump detractors: “You racist fool! Immigrants are good! They eat X and not Y, just like us!”
The truth is that cows, chickens, and pigs are just like dogs and cats: they think, they feel, they love their children, they are terrified of torture and death, they suffer and experience sadness. Eating them is just as cruel, and no less grotesque, than eating any other animal. And it is easier and easier every day to refrain from animal products completely. You already know that you can eat grains and beans and tubers and tofu and vegetables and fruit, and that you can thrive on plants. You also know that, if you can afford a bit more of a splurge, vegan products look and taste very much like their animal counterparts (pictured: my quick post-swim dinner – Just Egg scramble with vegan frankfurter rounds.) Making jokes on socials is easy; living an examined life is a bit more challenging, but it’s also far more rewarding.
The vegan fitness world is aflutter and atwitter about a new documentary miniseries on Netflix called You Are What You Eat: A Twins Experiment. The show follows a recent Stanford experiment in which pairs of identical twins were randomly assigned vegan and omnivore diets and their metrics were followed for eight weeks. Everyone I talk to about this is a certifiable fitness nerd–including myself–so here is the link to the actual JAMA publication and here is the write-up from the Stanford comms department. In the areas of cardiovascular health and telomere length, the subjects on the vegan diet did better than their omnivore twins:
At three time points — at the beginning of the trial, at four weeks and at eight weeks — researchers weighed the participants and drew their blood. The average baseline LDL-C level for the vegans was 110.7 mg/dL and 118.5 mg/dL for the omnivore participants; it dropped to 95.5 for vegans and 116.1 for omnivores at the end of the study. The optimal healthy LDL-C level is less than 100.
Because the participants already had healthy LDL-C levels, there was less room for improvement, Gardner said, speculating that participants who had higher baseline levels would show greater change.
The vegan participants also showed about a 20% drop in fasting insulin — higher insulin level is a risk factor for developing diabetes. The vegans also lost an average of 4.2 more pounds than the omnivores.
But when it got to weight and body composition, things got a lot trickier. A big challenge in comparing weight loss and muscle gain has to do with the distribution of macronutrients across the two diets: a higher consumption of protein supports muscle growth. I fished out the table from the supplement comparing the macro contents of the diets, which shows that protein provision and consumption among the vegan group was significantly lower than among the omnivorous group. This was true both for the Trifecta meals and for the self-provided ones.
On one hand, this sets up the vegan group to fail: they had fewer muscle building blocks than their omnivore counterparts. On the other hand, this situation may not be all that dissimilar to how vegans and omnivores eat in the wild. For all the good times we have mocking omnivores who inquire “where we get our protein,” when someone is actively strength training and striving to build muscle the quest for protein feels a little bit like nutrition Tetris. I should know: last year I read Stacy Sims’ wonderful book Next Level, about women athletes in perimenopause and menopause. Sims, who studies exercise physiology and is a leading voice in the quest to recognize the uniqueness of female physique (“women are not small men”), emphasizes the importance of lifting heavy, eating protein, improving explosive power through sprints and HIIT, and building strong bones through plyometric sets. It was because of that (and with the help of coach Celeste St. Pierre, as well as coaches Karina Inkster and Zoe Peled) that I changed my training regime quite dramatically. With the new emphasis on strength, I’ve joined the ranks of vegans who are strategic about the protein content of their meals. Sadly, the nutrition breakthrough study we are all waiting for, which will uncover the life-giving properties of pasta with tomato sauce, is not in the cards, and in addition to a lot of protein in my meals, I’m also emphasizing it in my snacks (more on that in a bit.)
But the problem of body composition is by no means endemic to vegans. As Prof. Gardner explains on the show, nutrition studies are notoriously untrustworthy because they require human compliance in areas that are difficult to measure. To try and counter this problem, the research team provided the twins with prepared meals from Trifecta for the first four weeks. The twins also received terrific strength coaching. But it turned out that the twins did not follow these plans to the letter. The subjects who were interviewed said that they skipped carbs (the meals seemed “too carby” to them) and added a lot of cardio to the strength workouts; the nutritionist scolded them for “wasting all that beautiful muscle” that they were building on the diet. Other subjects really struggled to eat enough to build muscle. This fantastic article by powerlifter and strength training coach Casey Johnston explains what’s what. If you’ll look at her avocado diagram, you’ll immediately grasp the problem with conventional dieting: one wants to lose fat, so one cuts calories, but in the process loses muscle as well. When one despairs of the diet and regains the weight, that weight is fat–so now one is bigger but has lost muscle. The next diet will lead to more loss of fat and muscle combined, followed by regaining fat but not muscle, etc. etc. In other words:
What I learned from the twins experiment is that reversing this trend by eating very little or by doing heaps of cardio is a quest destined to fail. For a while, at the beginning of a quest journey, beginners might see a change in body composition that encompasses both muscle gain and fat loss. But after that magical “newbie gains” period, body recomposition becomes much more elusive, and the only way to accomplish it is by periodizing one’s goals: spending a few months bulking (eating more, building more muscle *and* fat) and then a few months cutting (eating less but still strength training to lose the fat):
I know people whose lives revolve around lifting and the gym, and who can devote a considerable portion of their brain space to grams of protein and weightlifting sets. And if I had more time, I might become one of those people; as it happens, I’m working *and* studying full time, which is why I have paid people to do the thinking for me (I just follow the workouts on the app and try to watch my macros). Thankfully, we live in the future: some of my new snacks include conveniently packaged lupini beans and the most wonderful vegan Italian prosciutto and carpaccio (these are not cheap treats, alas. I really hope to see high quality vegan meats, etc., become less expensive in the very near future). The more profound aspect of this is that it is hard, but essential (I think), to leave behind the vacuous appearance-related aspirations and to make the journey about function: gaining muscle and becoming stronger is its own reward.
Here’s how I know: when my beloved father got ill, when I was training regularly, I flew out to be with him at the hospital, and packed a bunch of stuff in my wheelie bag, as I didn’t know how long I was going for. Or was it a trip to a conference? Anyway, it was when I was still increasing weights quite frequently from workout to workout. When I got inside the plane, I braced myself for the dreaded lift of the wheelie bag into the overhead compartment (“lady, do you need help?”). Reader, IT WAS CHILD’S PLAY. I was truly amazed at how much spending 20 minutes in my garage a few times a week improved my quality of life.
Looking for some light entertainment to help me sleep, I came across Mary Berry‘s new show Love to Cook. It’s sometimes difficult to watch cooking shows in which the ingredients are animal products, because the dissonance between the lightheartedness and the food served is hard to stomach (excuse the pun). But in this case, I watched the series armed with the notion that we live in the future, and in a world where hard-boiled vegan eggs and mushroom root carne asada exist (and are terrific) I can easily veganize whatever she makes.
Lucky for me, Mary Berry made an incredible dish that marries spaghetti, spiralized zucchini, and tinned crab–and I already know how to make fantastic vegan crab meat. It’s the same recipe as Melissa Huggins’ recipe for vegan crab cakes, minus the breadcrumbs, and you can make the whole batch and keep it in the fridge to make crab cakes or more pasta the next day. With a few substitutions, here are the ingredients:
1 cup cooked garbanzo beans
1 cup hearts of palm, drained
1 tbsp vegan mayo
1 tsp vegan worcestershire sauce
1 teaspoon lemon juice
1 teaspoon dijon mustard
1/4 cup sliced leek
1-2 nori sheets
1 tablespoon fresh parsley
1 tsp Old Bay seasoning
Toss all of these in the food processor, process until combined and a bit chunky, and keep in fridge.
Then, proceed to follow Mary Berry’s recipe for the spaghetti, substituting several hefty spoonfuls of the vegan mix for the crab meat. I’m a protein hoarder these days (back to strength training!) so I used Banza linguine. You’ll need
1 package Banza spaghetti or linguine
6 tbsp olive oil
1 large onion or two small ones, thinly sliced
1 red chilli, deseeded and diced (I used a tiny bell pepper, just for color, because I don’t like things that are too spicy these days)
2 garlic cloves, crushed
3 large zucchini (about 500g/1lb 2oz), spiralized into spaghetti-like strands, or, if you’re lazy like me, the already-spiralized variety available from Whole Foods
about 1/2-2/3 cup of the vegan crab mix
juice of ½ lemon
Small bunch of dill, chopped
While the Banza cooks in boiling water with some salt, heat up olive oil in wok and add onion, chili, and garlic, and wilt some, for about 3-4 mins. Then, add the zucchini and toss a bit (2 mins or so). After a couple of minutes, add the vegan crab mix and toss (2 mins or so). At this point, the Banza should be ready; drain and toss in the wok with everything else. Drizzle lemon juice and sprinkle dill to finish. Good stuff.
This semester, my classes at the GTU are rather ecumenical – two on Judaism and the Old Testament and two on Buddhism. So, I am celebrating the Jewish New Year with a Buddhist-inspired New Year Japanese dish: a vegetable-rich zaru soba.
On my favorite show, Midnight Diner, a wise and mysterious restaurateur opens his little establishment at midnight and closes at 7am. A group of delightful locals, as well as one-timers, from the nightlife scene around Shinjuku show up and he makes them the most delicious meals. Watching the show requires a dialectic approach, as almost nothing is vegan, but the care and meaning behind each dish is evident. Here’s the opening sequence:
Every season has a last-episode special in which all the diner guests are treated to soba in hot broth to celebrate the New Year. Since I usually cook soba from dry, I love soba soups. But this week I managed to get my hands on fresh, locally made soba, and it turns out that high-quality noodles are like revenge: best served cold.
I sliced up a few vegetables, quickly blanched some green beans, put some nice fresh medium-consistency tofu in the mix, and made a hasty dipping sauce that turned out phenomenal. Perhaps it’s not the authentic soy-based dressing for zaru soba, but the more I read about the adaptations and permutations of Buddhism in the West the more I’m at peace with there being lots of variations of Buddhism–with big doses of Orientalism and Occidentalism thrown into the debate. For a really interesting take on all this that hits home, read the book I’m currently reviewing, Emily Sigalow’s American JewBu. This doesn’t mean we should stop talking about colonial influences or ask questions about what gets lost (or gained, or fabricated) in translation. But the changes to this now-global religion and many cultures that came to the US are highlighting the futility of having shrill authenticity fights when we could employ our time eating tasty noodles.
This recipe also pays homage to my favorite Japanese Buddhist restaurant, and possibly my favorite vegan restaurant in the city: Cha Ya. They have a really lovely cold soba salad there, as well as delicious soba soups with mountain vegetables, noodles, or kitsune (fried tofu.)
Anyway – less blather, more recipe. Happy Jewish New Year! ユダヤ人の新年明けましておめでとうございます
1 tbsp Nama Shoyu
juice from 1 lime
1 heaping tbsp good quality miso
1 chopped garlic clove
1/2 tsp grated ginger
1 cup fresh, uncooked soba noodles
1-2 big handfuls baby spinach
2 Persian cucumbers
5 radishes
4 tbsp green onions
5 crimini mushrooms
1/2 cup green beans
80g medium-consistency tofu
1 tbsp cooked corn kernels
First, make the sauce. Mix the first five ingredients well in a small bowl and set aside.
Thinly slice cucumbers, mushrooms, and radishes; mince green onions; cut tofu into cubes. Layer spinach leaves on a nice, wide plate.
Boil water in a pot. Drop the green beans in for about 30-45 seconds, then get out with tongs (keep the water boiling) and drop in ice-cold water to chill and preserve crispness.
Then, drop the soba noodles in the boiling water. Cook for about 2 mins, then drain and cool under running water. Place on top of the spinach. Arrange the cucumber, green onions, tofu, green beans, mushrooms, and corn on or around the noodles. Drizzle sauce on top.
After much consternation and many compromises, AB 474 cleared the Appropriations Committee last week and is headed for a floor vote at the California Assembly. The bill regulates the markups at prison canteens, setting prices at a level that “will render each canteen self-supporting,” which effectively means a reduction in canteen markup rates from 65% to 35% for the next 4 years (until 2028). On January 1st 2028, CDCR may ratchet up the markup rate to make canteens “self-supporting.”
As someone interested in both prisons and food, I’ve organized events that classified correctional institutions as food deserts, and rightly so: the cuisine is horrendous. When I visited a Brazilian maximum-security prison a few years ago, I marveled at the organic vegetable garden that surrounded the facility and enriched the decent and nutritious meals served there. The battle to lower canteen prices reminded me of those experiences and raises the question: would we be so worried and upset about canteen markups if the regular meals were decent?
I think the answer is: it’s all about balance. A few years ago, I attended a panel about food and law, in which one of the speakers, a law professor and farmer, expounded on the need to bring native foods back to the communities, claim ownership of native crops, etc. etc. I raised the question of prison canteens, and the fact that some of the most oppressed people on the planet just want some comfort and simple pleasure from their food and might not be aggressively lobbying for heirloom beans. The guy almost chopped my head off and was incredibly rude and dismissive. By pure coincidence, linguist Janet Ainsworth was in the audience, conducting fieldwork on gender norms in academic settings, and wrote up the following (M was the anti-colonial radical-farmer-cum-academic guy, I was the F Qer who was thrice interrupted):
During their panel presentations, three of the four panelists invoked critical ideological positions as underpinning their presentations—both men and one woman. Specifically, one of the two F speakers referenced Critical Race Theory in her presentation, one M panelist referenced critical theory (unspecified), anti-racism, anti-subordination, anti-capitalism, anti-colonialism, and anti-neo-liberalism in his presentation; the other M referenced critical race theory, anti-capitalism, anti-racism, white privilege, and anti-colonialism in his presentation. Conspicuous by its near absence was feminist theory; it was referenced by one of the F speakers once in a response to a Qer. In immediate response one of the M panelists interrupted and responded critically to her suggestion that feminism had a progressive role to play in the topic; she immediately took an apologetic turn, beginning “Yes, yes, I didn’t mean to say…”
This session was marked by interruptions and negative assessments by the male panelists of the speaking turns of the F Qers. One M panelist interrupted F Qers on two occasions, the other M panelist interrupted F Qer speaking turns on six occasions. This more aggressive M panelist began one of his response turns with “I disagree with everything you said,” his response turn took 3 minutes and 52 seconds. (My qualitative assessment of that turn was that it was only very tangentially related to the point that the initial Qer had made.) The same F. Q’er began a follow-up turn, and after eight seconds, the same M. panelist interrupted again, beginning his turn with “No, what you must understand is…” His turn continued for 6 minutes and four seconds. The same F Q’er tried again to take a speaking turn; this time he interrupted her after four seconds. Two of the F. panelists at this point called him by name twice, in what appeared to be an attempt to open a space to speak for the F Q’er. He ignored both F. panelists and took another two minute and 18 second speaking turn. This M panelist interrupted the speaking turn of an additional F Qer later in the session, and he also interrupted the speaking turn of one of the F panelists in her response to a Qer.
Janet astutely remarked about this exchange:
One striking observation is that the male panelists who in their presentations most explicitly and frequently remarked upon their commitment to left-wing and critical theory stood out in the nature of their interactions with female questioners and co-presenters. They interrupted women, negatively assessed female contributions, and seemed unwilling to engage with them, instead taking long speaking turns that were irrelevant to the points earlier made by women speakers. This sample is far too small to suggest that male academics whose presentations prominently reference their commitments to left-wing political theory are more likely to discursively bully women academics. . . However, it does suggest that merely having an academic understanding of power, privilege, and hegemony is not sufficient to counter the tendencies of some male academics to utilize their discursive privileges to silence and discipline women in the academy even today.
But I digress (thanks for indulging me in this little exorcism; who hasn’t interacted with a chauvinist brute at a conference from time to time?) The point is that we must cultivate enough love in our hearts to fight two simultaneous wars. The short-term fix for the prison nutrition crisis is reasonable pricing at the canteen, because people must have access to something comforting and not torturous to eat. The long-term fix must acknowledge that even a 35% markup is an exploitation; canteen foods are goods that currently have no viable alternative. Incarcerated people can’t choose not to eat them, because the default option is inedible. Consequently, for people who want to eat what their palates recognize as food–100% of the prison population–the canteen has a monopoly, and the markup cannot be avoided. If canteens want to make a profit, improving prison food is the way to go; high pricing for luxury items is fair only if they are truly luxury items, not essentials.
The problem of short-term versus long-term goals is a mainstay in social justice struggles. I see it again and again. During COVID-19, as we describe in Chapter 4 of FESTER, activists had to tackle the trade-off between the short-term struggle to make vaccines accessible and increase vaccine acceptance (short-term life-saving measure) and the long-term struggle to save lives from pandemics and other diseases through population reductions (the only viable long-term solution to the prison disease problem.) The challenge was that the vaccines provided courts and politicians respite from the pressing questions of overcrowding, and were universally used as an excuse not to release nearly enough people.
Similarly, I would like to believe that we all want to eradicate rape culture, and that we all know that is a long-term struggle and a worthy one. At the same time, I would really love it if nobody got raped tonight (a short-term struggle.) For that reason, I advocate sensible behavior and caution: self defense classes, a buddy system, and a lot of judgment and circumspection around any situation involving alcohol. Long-term activists might bristle against this advice because it places the responsibility for rape prevention on the putative victims. This, I’m sorry to say, is nonsense; if you are assaulted it is not your fault! it is the fault of your assailant. And at the same time, we do not live in a world devoid of bad people, and if you get drunk or put yourself in vulnerable positions you are taking a risk that bad people will exploit the situation and do bad things to you.
Want another one? When we voted on death penalty abolition, activists argued it would only entrench life without parole, which was “the other death penalty.” Getting rid of the death penalty was a short-term struggle; getting rid of extreme incarceration, including life without parole, would be a long-term struggle. In response, I wrote this:
Unfortunately, the struggle against life without parole cannot begin until we win the struggle against the death penalty, which is within reach. This is, unfortunately, how political reform works: incrementally, with bipartisan support, and supported by a coalition. As I explain in Cheap on Crime, incrementalism produced the considerable reforms that occurred since 2008, and this one will be no exception.
The prison food struggle exhibits the same characteristics, and I think this requires a dialectic approach. I fully support the fight to reduce markups today, and at the same time I support continuing to fight for a world in which the food one is supposedly getting for free somewhat dulls the necessity for markup reductions. The problem, as we see with prison disease prevention and with rape prevention, is that sometimes short-term and long-term struggles can get in each other’s way. In those situations, I recommend thinking about the viability of the long-term goal and operating accordingly.
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:
2 a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, 3 a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, 4 a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, 5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, 6 a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, 7 a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, 8 a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.
Ecclestiastes 3:1-8
For many of us, this is an ordinary Friday; not so for the small subset of people interested in marathon swimming. Today, my friend Avishag Kofman-Turek, whom I met through our mutual interest in swimming the Sea of Galilee, completed an amazing athletic feat: swimming the North Channel from Ireland to Scotland.
Throughout the day, since the wee hours of the morning, I followed the GPS feed and rooted for Avishag’s safe and successful crossing. It is a huge endeavor. The water is frigid and required many months of difficult acclimation, not to mention a considerable increase in practice yardage (I should say, mileage.)
While witnessing this accomplishment, I was busy reading and completing assignments for four courses: Modern Jewish Thought, Intro to Buddhism and Buddhist Studies, How to Read the Book of Job, and Buddhism in the West. Recently, I’ve embarked on my own marathon swim, an intellectual one; I’m pursuing rabbinical ordination at the International Institute for Secular Humanistic Judaism and a masters degree at the Graduate Theological Union’s Center for Jewish Studies. I’ve been keeping this on the down-low during the application process, but if you peek here you’ll see a familiar face. It’s a feat no less solitary than marathon swimming, nor is it going to be easy (I continue to work full time as a law professor and be a full-time devoted mom to my son – I just sleep a lot less and have eliminated idle Internet time from my schedule) but it looks a lot less heroic, as it entails nothing photogenic: just sitting in front of my laptop, reading and writing.
It’s been ages since I trained for, and participated in, a real marathon swim. I know exactly when the last time was: the Thames Marathon in 2016. It was beautiful and serene and a good way to go about semi-retirement from marathon swimming. I still swim in the bay once in a while, and I did crank out a 5k without much effort in Kona last year, but nothing like the distances I used to put in week after week when I was training for big things like the Sea of Galilee or the Tampa Bay Marathon. In the last year, I shifted my efforts into multisport and lifting, partly to combat perimenopause and its discontents, but in the four months since my dad’s illness everything came to a grinding halt and the grief has made it very hard to work out at all, let alone swim a meaningful distance. I’m experiencing a really rough somatic reaction to breathing while swimming, perhaps because dad died of a rare lung disease and struggled to breathe before he was intubated. The lack of exercise and some emotional eating resulted in putting on some weight, and while a couple of months of careful whole food/veg juice diet and vigorous exercise will do the trick, I’m just not feeling it as a pressing priority. I am making an effort to eat healthy things, take good supplements, and move every day (I commute by bicycle, lift in my garage, and take walks in the neighborhood). But it really is an effort.
I did feel a little melancholy today reflecting on Avishag’s amazing swim. Not a sense of envy at her success, but rather a bit of wistfulness about how I don’t seem to be able to muster the kind of gumption and perseverance I used to have about dramatic athletic feats. I take some comfort in the wisdom of Ecclesiastes, echoed in this awesome Rich Roll podcast about periodizing one’s life. Now’s the time to take good care of myself without embarking on big health-and-fitness goals, make sure I’m well nourished when I go to teach and study, and invest in my new academic pursuits. Thing is, I’m not getting any younger, and while swimming is something you can continue to do and improve in throughout your life, I doubt I’ll be able to pull off big marathon swims out of the blue when I’m in my 60s and 70s without putting the requisite time now. But none of this matters if I just don’t have it in me at the moment.
The dream is over,
What can I say?
The dream is over
Yesterday
I was the dream weaver, but now I’m reborn
I was the walrus, but now I’m John
And so, Dear Friends, we’ll just have to carry on;
As we are ensconced here at home, hiding from #hellastorm2023, I decided to make us the soup to end all soups and ended up with this delicious minestrone. One of its major secrets is that, rather than using canned beans, I used Rancho Gordo beans that cooked inside the soup from dry, adding the wonderful bean liquor to the already flavorful soup. I made it in the instant pot, but you can easily make it on the stove (the beans might require extra cooking time in that case.) Enough chitchat – here’s the recipe:
1 tsp olive oil (optional)
1 onion, minced
2 Russet potatoes, diced
3 carrots, diced
1 cup chopped celery
3 garlic cloves, minced
10 kale leaves
1 tsp herbes de provence
1 can crushed tomatoes
1/2 lb good quality dry pinto beans
1 quart water, plus two cups
2 tbsp vegetable stock concentrate
2 tbsp tomato paste
salt and pepper to taste (I didn’t put any and it turned out very flavorful)
1/2 package lentil or chickpea pasta, or whatever pasta you like
Using the sauté function of the instant pot, sauté the onion, carrot, and celery for about 6-7 minutes (with or without olive oil.) After the onion is translucent, add the potatoes, garlic, kale, herbes de provence, crushed tomatoes, beans, water, stock, and tomato paste. Close the lid and cook for 40 mins on high pressure.
On the stove, cook the pasta until al dente.
Place some pasta in each dish and top with generous ladles of soup. You can top it with vegan parmesan but, honestly, it’s delicious as it is. Enjoy!
