This week, the tables at the local Japanese farmers’ market are overflowing with fruits, vegetables and especially garlic. My friend Atusko’s landlord is a farmer, and he gave her a bag containing 100 single cloves of garlic “seconds” that he could not sell. She passed the garlic on to me and it inspired tonight’s dinner.
With the autumn breeze dictating a sudden wardrobe overhaul, the season’s first steaming bowl of chili was like a promise of warmth on the cold nights to come.
Layers of flavors meld together for satisfying bite and a lingering, medium-spiced aftertaste. Red table wine brings out the hues of the tomatoes and beef, cumin seeds and crushed red peppers offer added mini bursts of flavor, and large chunks of garlic take the spotlight as they are slowly simmered to soft, mellow perfection.
My serving of Garlic Harvest Beef Chili was placed next to a paddle of rice and topped with shredded sharp cheddar, a dollop of real sour cream, and enough cilantro to make it obvious that fresh herbs make my heart sing.
Sarah’s Garlic Harvest Beef Chili Serves 12
15 minute prep time
1 hour 15 min stove-top cook time
2 lbs London Broil, cut into 1 cm. cubes
2 medium onions, chopped
100 whole, peeled cloves of garlic (I cut some mutant cloves down to normal size!)
2 tbsp cooking oil
1 tsp kosher salt
26 oz. can of tomato sauce (I used Hunts Garlic & Herb)
30 oz. of diced tomatoes (or two, 15 oz. cans) with juice
5 tbsp chili powder
2 tsp oregano
1 heaping tbsp cumin powder
1 tsp cumin seeds
1/2 tsp ground cayenne pepper
1/2 tsp crushed red pepper flakes
1 cup dry red table wine
2 1/2 cups water
1/2 cup masa harina
water to make masa harina slurry
Steamed rice (5 cups dry)
Toppings (optional – see below)
Toppings:
Sour cream, sharp cheddar cheese, chopped fresh cilantro, and a bottle of hot sauce for the daddies and the shirtless egg-muscled sons who are trying to impress them
Directions:
Prepare the rice in a way that it will be done at the same time as your chili – about 1 hr 15 minutes. (I love my Zojirushi rice cooker because I can prepare the rice way ahead of time and it will keep the rice warm for whenever I need it.)
Mix a little water with the masa harina to make a slurry (if you do not add water, you’ll have masa chunks in your chili… yuck.) and stir the slurry into the chili. Cook for another five minutes until the chili thickens slightly.
Place a scoop of rice and then add a serving of chili next to it, overlapping the rice slightly. Down the middle, sprinkle with cheddar cheese. Top with a dollop of sour cream. Sprinkle with cilantro (and hot sauce if you’re a show-off).
Will you share your favorite autumn dinner recipe with me?
* * *
If you love chili and are hungry for more…
Chili Nation is my favorite chili cookbook. The recipes are easy to prepare, yet please the palate of a chili enthusiast. The authors chose recipes from each state, and the very interesting story behind each recipe is recorded in the book. A few years back, the men in my husband’s Bible study took turns making a different recipe every week and brought them to share. All were excellent! My staple weeknight chili recipe from Chili Nation is the Tigua Indian Definitive Bowl of Red. It’s a spicy beef chili without beans. It gets its deep reddish color from several tablespoons of chili powder.
Micah (age 4) loves Ruby Red grapefruit. He is the only one of my children to inherit my tongue-to-nose superpower.Whaa? You don't like my grapefruit? I cut you!
Why I am I doing this? Why am I being so generous? Because there are way too many awesome things here in Japan to hoard to myself. I had to find a way to share!
Barring unforeseen circumstances, I will announce the giveaway contest rules along with the details of a corresponding-themed prize package on the first of each month. I may throw in a pack of Japanese candy or some random things into the box at last minute, so please let me know if you have any special requests and/or food allergies.
The winner will need to provide their mother’s maiden name, social security number, and a valid US credit card number + three digit secret code. JUST KIDDING! I will, however, need their name and mailing address which will be kept strictly confidential.
If they’re agreeable, I’d like to interview the winner and feature them in a future post. I would consider including links in the post to the winner’s blog, favorite cause, home business, etc.
Winning contestants may not enter my subsequent monthly giveaway contests for a year following their win. In other words, if you win in September, 2009, you can’t enter again until October, 2010.
September Contest Rules:
Name my mid-90s Toyota Estima Lucida minivan.
Post your family-friendly name suggestion in the comments to this post by September 24.
Explain why you’re suggesting the name
My children will pick their favorite and the van will be forever called by this name
It’s a 4 WD tank, deep eggplant/plum in color with a grayish blue interior. (Color update, Sept. 2, 10 a.m. viewed in bright sunshine: The color is really weird. It’s kinda black, but it has these flecks of sparkle in the paint that make it look brownish/purple. ) The steering wheel is, of course, on the right. It has moon roof over the front seats and a large sunroof over the back passenger seats. The sliding passenger door takes a little oomph to open. This van seats eight, including the driver. Although it’s not too sleek, this van gets us to where we need to go. We use it to travel through the mountains, in all kinds of weather, while the kids (okay, and sometimes me, too) sing at the top of their lungs to Weezer. While we haven’t had any food spills to add extra character, the van does contain a lot of sand at the moment from frequent trips to the beach this summer.
September’s Prize:
An Automobile-Themed Care Package
-One portable, two-person picnic-sized tatami mat with a built-in floral carrying case. (See the photo with Tab for size of the mat unfurled.) Store this mat in your car for impromptu picnics and to impress your friends.
-Car wash cloth
-Car dust cloth
-Red, stainless steel travel mug
-“Deep Forest” laser carved air freshener “Please enjoy a fragrant time with this wood air freshener.”
-“Baby On Board” “I Am Safety Driver” sign
-“Maternity On Board” “I Am Safety Driver” sign
Items will be wrapped in Japanese newspaper.
Have fun! Tell your friends. Send me a gmail @mrsalbrecht if you have any questions or suggestions for future contests/prize packs. If you’re new here, check out the Welcome!
We crossed over the bridge into Goshogawara at dusk. In the distance, I could see an assemblage of fierce, heathen Neputa war-gods descending upon the city. Entering the human world through the doors of an enormous warehouse, the Neputa shown brightly, illuminated from within.
Without changing pose, they floated through the streets. One Neputa stood tall, arms raised in triumph. Another held a knife to the throat of an enemy, whose face was twisted in a pained grimace.
As I walked with my family toward the center of the city, the sound of rhythmic drum grew louder and louder. The beat was punctuated by the shouts of “yattemareâ€, meaning to fight or throw stones, by costumed, dancing haneto mortals, who were dwarfed by the magnificent creatures. I pulled my children in close beside me and we walked down the densely crowded sidewalk to get a closer look.
Vendors selling sake, beer, yakisoba and skewered hot dogs, pickles, and yakitori lined the streets. They enticed passersby with by sing-sing lists of their wares.
We settled at the corner of an intersection, the first in the parade route, and did our best to mingle with the crowd.
When I looked upwards, I noticed that, while we were surrounded by buildings, the were no power lines running along the street. (I later learned that the streets were specifically designed to accommodate the Neputa’s annual visit, and that all electric and telephone cables for the structures along the parade route were run through an underground tunnel system.)
Slowly, ushered by haneto dancers, some of whom were very young, the enormous creatures moved towards us. The Neputa were about 22 meters tall and were made of sculpted metal scaffolding, covered in brightly painted washi to depict Neputa warriors. The Neputa stood on wooden platforms covered with images of with waves, flowers, stars and war scenes. Inside the Neputa, strung along the scaffolding, were strands of light bulbs that made the towering gods glow in the darkness. We had an amazing view.
Each group of dancers paused to perform in front of us. When they noticed our obviously foreign presence, they purposefully danced next to us (see 1:47 of first video below) and pushed their beautifully grotesque painted faces in front of our wide eyes. They offered some tiny cymbals to my children, but my frightened children shook their heads and refused to play. I hoisted Leah, my youngest, up to my shoulders so that she could see over the crowd. She grabbed my hair and wrapped her chubby little legs around my neck. We found the rhythm and danced together.
A particularly large Tachi Neputa entered the intersection square. Costumed men blew whistles to warn onlookers to stand back. Then, they grabbed ropes tethered to the base of Neputa and began to run in circles around the towering giant. It began to spin. High above the traffic lights and buildings, the Neputa spun like a gigantic top. His face, body and all his decorations blurred into a frenzied whirl.
The Neputa festival is an annual matsuri event that takes place in early August in various cities around Aomori Prefecture. In our city, it is spelled “Neputa”, but elsewhere in Japan, it is “Nebuta”. Our city is known for the “Tachi” Neputa, which are significantly taller than the traditional sized Nebuta seen in other cities.
It’s hard to believe that ten years ago today, on August 27, 1999, Tom and I were married. Was it really that long ago?
Little did I know at the time how Tom would change my life when I met him 12 years ago at a bowling alley.
Reception Kiss - August 27, 1999 My friend Becca was bowling on a league for homeschoolers and invited me to go with her to The Palace in Downingtown, PA.
The lane next to ours was vacant but, being a bit of a bookworm, I noticed that there was a stack of books on the table. One was called “Rich Christians in the Age of Hunger.†I was curious. I couldn’t help myself! I picked up the book, flipped through it a few times, and then began to read.
I was just starting into the second chapter and, behind me, a slightly irritated male voice said, “Those are my books.â€
I froze.
Not one to be intimidated, I spun around and looked at him in the eyes. “Well! I hope you don’t agree with this socialist author,” I said, sternly. “While I think that Christians have a responsibility to the poor, God blesses some Christians with money. I don’t like the idea of guilt-tripping those God has blessed because they don’t live in self-induced poverty. What about Christians who are poor and who aren’t content? I think there are deeper heart issues that aren’t being addressed.â€
From my soapbox, I could see that he was a head taller than me. Dark hair, nice Italian olive skin, and yet had hazel-green eyes — in fact, the same color as mine. He had about a two-day old shave, and looked to be very strong. He was speechless. He wasn’t used to girls who voiced their opinion.
Becca rescued him.
“Oh, I see you met my friend Sarah from Indiana. Sarah, this is Tom.â€
It turns out, he was writing a paper for his college economics class, and the prof had challenged him to write on economics from a Christian perspective. I was pursuing a career in journalism –- I wanted to be a war-correspondent –- and loved the opportunity to write about interesting topics. I gave Tom my email address and asked him to send me a note. He didn’t write for two weeks.
That night, I stayed over at Becca’s. While we were in our sleeping bags by the coal stove in her parent’s family room, I asked her about Tom. “Tom Albrecht? Well, he’s not really my type [she later married a blond-haired, blue-eyed military guy] but he’s really smart and he’s witty. Still, I can’t imagine kissing him or anything.â€
(Some how the kissing line has stuck in my memory. Little does she know how fun it is to kiss him.. I think I’ve kissed him over 9,000 times at this point.) :P
What Becca failed to mention when she introduced me to Tom was that I had moved from Indiana, where I had lived for a few years with my family, back to Pennsylvania. She forgot to say we had known each other as girls, and recently had reconnected. But, God had plans to again cause my path to cross with Tom’s.
My sister Bethany was taking a pottery class at the Chester Springs Art Studio and had made friends with a girl named Megan Catranis . Megan brought Bethany to church – Immanuel Presbyterian (Now Olive Street Presbyterian) – where she caught Tom’s younger brother’s eye. I’m not clear on the details, but Tom and Matt were at the Catranis’ house and Bethany’s name came up. Bethany Phenicie. Phenicie is not a common name, and Tom said, “Hey, I met someone named Sarah Phenicie. She gave me her email address but I didn’t see a point to writing to someone in Indiana.†Megan’s dad was like, “You idiot. That’s Bethany’s older sister. They just moved from Indiana. WRITE TO HER.â€
That weekend, he picked me up in his little white late-80s Le Mans hatchback. I sat in the front passenger seat. Four guys were crammed in the back. A thick, black glove was stuffed between the window-crank and the door. I was told not to touch it or else the window would fall down.
I was the only girl, even out of the crowd of friends who met them at the theater. Tom’s brothers had snuck in a bag of homemade beef jerky and passed it back and forth over my head throughout the entire film. I had never giggled so much in my life. I can still remember that I wore my favorite multicolored crocheted sweater – which, after a few repairs, I still own!
Tom and I began to see each other, but never wanted to admit we were falling for each other.
When Tom brought up the subject of commitment in dating, I flatly told him that I “wasn’t interested in getting married or having children†and that I wasn’t thinking in that direction at the moment. He just calmly said, “I understand. But, I want you to know that I like spending time with you and that if that’s all you’re willing to give me, I’ll take it.â€
We’d go to Fennario, a wonderful coffeehouse in West Chester, PA, and play chess for hours while talking. I was always in trouble for getting home late.
After one such date, we both leaned in and kissed each other as if we’d been kissing each other forever. It was the most wonderful, memorable kiss of my entire life. Who knew such a big, strong guy could kiss so tenderly? It melted my cold heart. We sort of pushed each other away and were like, “What was that? We’re not even dating!†We retreated to his car and talked about the “what ifs†and decided that we worked well together.
Two weeks later, I moved back to Indiana with my family. My heart stayed in Pennsylvania.
One concern Tom had expressed to me over cappuccinos and checkmates was that, while I said that I was a Christian (religious convictions tend to come up when you’re exploring a person’s mind), I had never been baptized. My answer was that I didn’t feel ready. His answer was that I was required to obey God, not to make excuses. Before I left for Indiana, he gave me a copy of “Lord of the Saved†by Kenneth Gentry. It was about the problem of Christians who give lip service to God but do not surrender their hearts.
Heart convictions drive out fear and, a few months later, on the Easter Sunday, just before my 18th birthday, I was baptized at Wallen Baptist Church in Fort Wayne, Indiana. There were about 500 people in attendance. I’d been a Christians since I was four, but had been fighting the need to obey and be baptized. Suddenly, my Christianity wasn’t an uphill battle. Scripture actually made sense. I realized that when I yielded myself to God, The Holy Spirit could actually work in my heart and teach me.
The long distance relationship was difficult to bear. There were a few times we almost broke up. Tom even stole his dad’s brand new Mustang to drive out to see me –- I had thought it was better for us if we broke up. Instead of me breaking up with him in person, we renewed our commitment to each other.
I was attending Taylor Universityon a full, academic scholarship, that included room and board. Instead of going to my parent’s house over Spring break, I flew out to Pennsylvania.
My flight arrived late, past midnight. When I got into the car, I noticed there was a familiar leather cord tied around Tom’s neck. Hoping it still held the little garnet ring I had given him (I was wearing his class ring), I pulled it out from under his collar to check. There was a ring there, but it was platinum and boasted five perfect diamonds.
“Whose ring is this?†I said. It really didn’t click.
“Does it fit you?†he asked.
I tried it on. It was beginning to click.
“Um.. yeah!â€
In heavy 95 traffic out of Baltimore, and in the thickest fog and torrential of downpours, with one hand on the wheel of his dad’s car and the other holding mine, Tom proposed to me. “I love you and I want you to be my wife.â€
Oh… my rings. The next day, I dented my engagement ring as I dove over a rock while shooting a guy’s extended middle finger during a wild round of paintball. Two weeks before the wedding, Tom lost his job. My wedding ring is not the one we originally had in mind – it’s is actually at $10 sterling silver ring. To me, it represents staying together through life’s ups and downs. I’ve never even considered having it replaced with more valuable ring.
There were a few complications in between our engagement and the wedding but, in the end, my family came to Pennsylvania and my father walked me down the aisle.
As we stood in the back of the chapel on a hot, August Friday afternoon, my dad turned to me and whispered, “I have the car running outside… you don’t have to do this.†“But, dad, I love Tom!” I said. “I want to get married!â€
Seeing I couldn’t be persuaded otherwise and that it was really what I wanted, my father, the ex-Marine who once enlisted to go to Vietnam and ended up a Sergeant, began to cry. It was the first time I saw him cry. I cried, too. He tightly grabbed my hand, walked with me, and gave me away. I was 19.
It rained in between the wedding and the reception, which was at the Catranis’ house where I had lived that summer. The fresh, cooler air created a beautiful mist over their pond. People still come up to me and say that our simple potluck reception was one of the most relaxed and most fun of all of the receptions they’ve ever been to.
Some people complain that their spouse is “not the person who they married” and claim it has caused them to fall out of love . Tom and I have changed over the years, but we have changed together… and for the better.
Ten years, five children and a transpacific move later, I am still very happy.
