I was eight years old when I announced to my mom that we needed to go to church. Not as in, "We're running late, Mom. We have to leave now." But as in, "We have to start going to church or we're going to go to hell, because that's what sew-and-sew told me at school." So within the next Sunday or so, she drove me to the First United Methodist Church of our town.
My first Sunday school teacher was an extremely nice lady named Cynthia Wilson. We could call her Cindy, though. She had a sweet spirit -- even as young as I was, I could tell that. She was very well spoken. She had a knack for explaining the Bible to us children. I remember once trying to read my grandfather's King James Version, and none of it made any sense to me. But when Cindy explained the Bible stories, I understood them.
Cindy also had a very calming presence. One day she was talking to us about prayer. When she was finished she said, "...and you don't have to close your eyes if you don't want to." That was nearly 31 years ago, and TO THIS DAY, I do not close my eyes during prayer. [It makes me dizzy -- always has -- so I was relieved (and still am) that an adult I trusted said I could keep my eyes open when I prayed.]
Pretty soon I was to be baptised. It was Cindy who presented me with my first Bible. It wasn't from her, but from the church. Yet still, it was her face with her Bible-laden hands outstretched that remains emblazoned on my brain.
I stayed at that church for about a decade. Then I went off to college and was gone for nearly another decade. At some point, I moved back toward home. Experience had changed me, and though "on paper" I was still a Methodist, in my heart and mind I knew I was an Episcopalian. I visited the Episcopal church in town, and lo and behold, who should be there but Cynthia Wilson! Some time during those years I was gone she had found the Episcopal church as I had. Her presence was one of those outward and visible signs that let me know I was in the right place.
It was good to see her on a regular basis again. She was still sweet-spirited and well-spoken as ever. She stayed on at the Episcopal church for several years before moving away to live close to her daughter and grandchild.
Just recently, I learned that Cynthia died suddenly of a heart attack. The first things I remembered about her were that she was my first Sunday school teacher, and that she gave me my first Bible. I have come to realize that those were important events for me. They meant something. They were seeds planted. They were kindnesses given. They were generosities out poured. And all of that humbled me, and still does.
When I die, I wonder what will be the knee-jerk reaction of some that were part of my journey. Will they remember that I judged them unfairly? That I turned away when they needed me? That I lied? That I was harsh? That I didn't have the time, or more accurately, that I didn't take the time?
On this earth, we have but a small window to love relentlessly; to treat each other gently; to create fearlessly; to honor respectfully; to offer generously. Cindy achieved so many of those things, if not all of them and even more. I hope I can say the same when my time on Earth is done. I am certainly going to try.
Cindy, may light perpetual shine upon you.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Friday, May 4, 2012
Egg Salad
~Pictures to be uploaded soon, when I figure out how to do that~~
My favorite thing about the week of Easter (culinarily speaking) is making -- and EATING -- egg salad with the dyed eggs from my kids' Easter baskets. Recipe follows {eventually}...
First and foremost: FOOD SAFETY! This recipe assumes that your eggs have been kept at a constant (or at least NEAR constant) refrigerated temperature before consumption. If you dyed the eggs Easter eve and left them in your child's Easter basket on the kitchen table all night -- "fa-getta-bout-it!" No egg salad for you, sorry.
Now, there was a time in my life when I would -- and did -- simply mash up the whole eggs with mayonnaise and seasonings, glob it between two slices of bread and leave it at that. But the end product never cut it for me somehow. I really liked deviled eggs, and the ingredients for that are basically the same as egg salad. But I liked deviled eggs better. Why? Well, one day I had one of those light-bulb-over-the head/Humpty Dumpty falling off the wall moments where I realized that in deviled eggs, the whites must remain intact so that the creamed yolks have a place to nest.
My favorite thing about the week of Easter (culinarily speaking) is making -- and EATING -- egg salad with the dyed eggs from my kids' Easter baskets. Recipe follows {eventually}...
First and foremost: FOOD SAFETY! This recipe assumes that your eggs have been kept at a constant (or at least NEAR constant) refrigerated temperature before consumption. If you dyed the eggs Easter eve and left them in your child's Easter basket on the kitchen table all night -- "fa-getta-bout-it!" No egg salad for you, sorry.
Now, there was a time in my life when I would -- and did -- simply mash up the whole eggs with mayonnaise and seasonings, glob it between two slices of bread and leave it at that. But the end product never cut it for me somehow. I really liked deviled eggs, and the ingredients for that are basically the same as egg salad. But I liked deviled eggs better. Why? Well, one day I had one of those light-bulb-over-the head/Humpty Dumpty falling off the wall moments where I realized that in deviled eggs, the whites must remain intact so that the creamed yolks have a place to nest.
Silly me. I had been decimating the whites along with the yolks whenever I made egg salad, creating a sort of grainy, eggy mess with an unpleasant texture. Try as one might, boiled egg whites WILL NOT cream -- it's just not in their DNA, not when boiled. So I decided to make my egg salad in much the same way as deviled eggs: cream the yolks, but leave the whites intact, or at least MOSTLY intact. NOW we're crackin'!
Take your color-altered boiled eggs -- crack them -- peel them -- rinse them -- dry them. Note the speckles of color left from the dye -- I LOVE THAT! It seems kind of naughty to use non-white, non-pristine eggs, or maybe I give this WAY too much thought -- I don't know. It's just that egg salad reminds me of brunches and women's clubs and fancy clothes and good manners. But let's face it: Martha Stewart ain't coming over, so I use those joyful-looking, speckle-colored, rather rotten looking eggs and go on about my business.
Now take a sharp knife and slice each egg in half, and try diligently to make one clean stroke, as this can be a messy job. Scoop out the yellows and place in a bowl. Add salt, pepper and dill (dried or fresh) to taste. (By all means, add any other herbs and seasonings you like -- this is just what I did today -- I hope you'll make this recipe your own and flavor it the way YOU like it.)
To the yolks, add a healthy 1/3 cup of your favorite mayonnaise. Actually, I don't measure -- the glob I put in sort of looks like 1/3 cup though. I used eight eggs or so.
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A word about mayonnaise...I am a Helmann's girl, through and through. The "Lite" version is passable, but the orginal stuff with the navy blue label is what rocks my taste buds. Having said that, I had a coupon for Duke's mayonnaise, so I thought I'd try it. And don't think I didn't conduct my own private taste test -- you bet I did. Upon looking through the ingredients, the only real difference is that Helmann's has some sugar -- Duke's does not. The verdict: I prefer the straight-out-of-the-jar taste of Helmann's over Duke's (don't judge me for eating mayo right of the jar). HOWEVER, with a ham and cheese sandwich or two (literally!) under my belt, and this egg salad I made today...MAYBE (sigh)...it feels sacreligious even thinking this...maybe Duke's tastes better than Helmann's when combined with other ingredients. It's the old adage of the sum of the parts is greater than the whole, or something like that. Truly though -- out of the jar, Duke's does not appeal to me. But when used as a condiment, as it should be, it is quite good.
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OK -- now, using the back of a fork, mash the yolks and the mayonnaise together, getting as many lumps out as you possibly can. One could do this in a food processor, but -- eh -- who's got the the time to get it out of the cabinet, wipe it down a bit, transfer the yolks, add the mayonnaise, whir it around, scoop it back out, clean the processor...
A fork works just fine :)
Now for my favorite part -- and I DO promote the use of a neglected kitchen gadget here -- chopping the whites. You could coarsely chop them with a sharp knife -- that's fine. But I like to dust off my egg slicer for this job. I mean, come ON -- it's the ONE time of year when you have all these boiled eggs laying around, begging to have those taut, vertical wires cutting through them! Slice through the whites -- one or two at a time -- once, then in one swift motion dump them into your palm, turn them ninety degrees and slice them once more.
Using a spatula, fold the whites into the creamed yolks. [REMEMBER: "Fold" is a fancy term for "Down and around -- down and around..."] We fold as opposed to stir because we like to keep the egg salad as fluffy as possible. Did I just call myself "we?" See? Egg salad = fancy ;)
Ever-so-slightly toast some good bread, slather some of that delectable, fluffy goodness onto it and ENJOY.
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