Experimenting
The attempt to make tofu was a complete failure; it did not coagulate. But the coconut, plantain cake I made with the soy pulp from making the milk and leftover roast plantains, was a delicious success.

The attempt to make tofu was a complete failure; it did not coagulate. But the coconut, plantain cake I made with the soy pulp from making the milk and leftover roast plantains, was a delicious success.

Could not resist the french name. More fun than summer local vegetable stew. An alternative name could be: how to make three okra and six beans into dinner for two. Or maybe four. When I was out in the garden this morning, I simply picked what needed to be picked. Featured here: three okra, six beans, one jalapeno, two ancho chiles (one partly dried on the plant), two large tomatoes (both of which are only partly viable), two ripe and one green (fell off while I was picking the ripe ones) roma tomatoes, one very small garlic clove, baby leeks, garlic chives, tarragon, parsley, dill, and herb fennel. Serve over quinoa, couscous, rice, or pasta, and it is easily a meal for two. Add some red beans or other dried beans, and it could be dinner for four.
One of the things I like about eating from the garden is the necessity of being creative. Cooking from a cook book, who wants an ingredient list this long? I could also be disappointed that no one of my plants is giving me enough to create a dish out of mostly one or two ingredients. If I were getting these ingredients from the store, I would get more okra or beans or peppers. There is a great joy in finding a sense of abundance and sparked creativity and celebrating pleasure, art, fulfillment, delight, offerings with what we have been given, whether it is the food from our garden, our bodies, our talents, our families, or the time and place into which we were born. In finding the highest sense of abundance and creativity within our limitations, we are truly experiencing the yoga concept of jivan mukti, living liberation.
“It will make you both laugh and cry,” said Josh, who is a long-time neighbor and the proprietor of the newly re-opened West End Cinema, which is currently showing The Kings of Pastry. “I don’t think I will be crying just because a sugar sculpture breaks,” I responded with some skepticism. “Let me know afterward,” he said, and there the conversation ended. I needed to get seated, and he needed to help the next movie-goer.
What I found loveliest about the film — besides getting to surrender to the delicious sensation of being completely awed by the extraordinary technique exhibited — was that there was no competition in the sense of there being “winners” or “losers.” All of the finalists — I don’t think that this is a spoiler — could achieve the designation of “master” if they demonstrate their virtuosity as pastry chefs within a short period of time under intense scrutiny.
The movie, in revealing a little of what it can mean to have the talent, passion, and single-mindedness to seek to be a master of a craft, a livelihood, an art, invited me to reflect on when I have been tested and when I have wanted a certain achievement marked by an outer designation. Undergraduate and law school were highly competitive; by being ranked, excellence seemed to be prized not as much for how it would enable the students ultimately to be better able to serve society and themselves upon having developed a certain required level of mastery, but more for creating a ranking within that segment of society. The dance world, for me, also felt strongly competitive. With injuries early on and having developed the “wrong” body, I could not rise to the competition.
The support, encouragement, and mentoring of the pastry chefs in The Kings of Pastry — although clearly only a select few were finalists — highlighted for me what it can mean to strive for excellence without having it be structured by win-lose/pass-fail competition; it only makes the world of pastry better if more of the pastry chefs are true masters. In this regard, watching the movie led me to think about what it was like to work for Anusara yoga teacher certification in contrast to my earlier education. When I was working for my Anusara certification, the standards for achievement of the “goal” were still very high, but it was not about winning/losing or achieving/failing. It was a period of intense study, practice, learning, and humbling experiences. On being certified, I knew that the efforts to be certified were just the beginning. Part of the reason for being so deeply challenged to be certified, to meet the level of initiation (in Sanskrit diksha), was to see if we would continue studying and practicing at that rate out of love and deep commitment. It took going through the process and addressing all the old emotions and patterns of reaction and response that came up in the context of being tested to help me to start fully appreciating the difference between being in a competition and seeking the best we can be for ourselves and for others in our work and study. When I started to have a lived appreciation for the distinction it carried through to all aspects of my relationships in life.
Without answering them, The Kings of Pastry opened for our own contemplation the questions of what does striving for excellence or mastery mean for the one on the path and for those on the path with him or her? How does coming face to face with an obstacle when being tested or finding out that one has or has not received the public recognition impact the rest of one’s life, one’s sense of self-worth, and one’s relationships with family and friends? It was an sweet act of film-making to bring these questions to the viewer’s awareness in a way that is completely engaging and endearing.
Yes, Josh, I got a little teary-eyed towards the end.
I woke up sad this morning. I gave a political contribution, sat for meditation, and went out into the garden before going upstairs to work. I’m still sad, but engaged myself in what I was doing for the full day–trying to take care of community and self and be absorbed in what I was doing so that it could be done most fully. My consciousness thus engaged elsewhere, I did not absorb time and energy with my sadness.

After having at long last (years), had the back sleeping porch and deck repaired and improved, the garden has expanded to the sleeping porch. I’m trying beans, cherry tomatoes, and hops as trailing vines. It will be interesting to participate. Everything except the geranium and the strawberries were volunteers or plants outgrowing their space below.
I’ve given away lots of starts and divides and have plenty more, as well as cuttings. Locals—let me know if you want some. Soon I will be fully vaccinated. If you will be also, we could even do some yoga.

A regular reader of this blog commented on the consistency of my practice of taking photographs. Thinking about this practice, reminded of something I recall John Friend having said. We have a steady hatha yoga practice (asana, pranayama, meditation), for two reasons. When we’re feeling full of joy and gratitude, we practice to make offering in thanks. When we are feeling disconnected or off-balance or sad, we practice to remind ourselves of our connection in spirit. This pretty much means there is always a reason to practice.
With the photographs, sometimes the sweetest moment of my day was noticing a flower or a cloud. I practice doing so, especially when I’m feeling too caught up in the tumult. In the moment (and on reflection later when I review, select, and edit an image to share, I remember, as I do when I do my hatha yoga practice, my current well-being. Sometimes there is more about yoga practice I can say with a photograph than I could with a paragraph.

Enjoying some edible flowers (pansies, marigolds, nasturtiums, chive and basil flowers) and found myself wishing I had borage and bee balm in my garden. I’ve tried in the past, but they tend to take up more space than I have for what they offer. Perhaps I will try again anyway.
Found a seedling of Korean licorice mint at the Fresh Farm market at Penn Quarter yesterday. If it takes, it should be a nice addition to the mint, lemon balm, and verbena I use to make infusions (hot and iced).