Beacon Bits -- Snowed In

It has been a week since the blizzard of 2013. I've had this blog post on my mind since the day I was snowed in, but something seemed to be getting in the way of my posting. I think I must have had flashbacks to the winter of 2011-2012 when I moved 'north' to the Hudson Valley and realized I was in an entirely new weather zone. It seemed as though there was an exponential increase in inches of snow expected as you traveled up the Hudson River from  the Tappan Zee to the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge/Route 84 corridor.

 

Do not get me wrong. I like winter and I appreciate a good snowfall. It was just an awful time to move and get settled into a new area. I was again reminded of that particular winter today, when I stopped by the Farmer's Market, now at the Mill Street Loft in Lock Dock Beacon of how I missed the welcoming fireplace of the Beacon Sloop Club (the previous home of the market); it really felt like the hearth of my new home when I made my weekly trip for comfort food: All You Knead raisin and walnut bread and Migliorelli Farms cider and apples.

 

But getting back to this year's snowstorm, being snowed in last week allowed me to make my pot of soup one day early. I had made a New Year's resolution to make a different soup each Sunday so that I had a quick and hearty meal and plans for freezing some for a snowy day. Since New Year's I had made lentil, French three bean, old-fashioned chicken, Scandinavian fruit, and vegetable minestrone soup with rigatoni. Black bean soup was next in the queue. But I realized I didn't have cilantro, not one of my favorite herbs, which is essential for its distinct flavor.

 

So I made a run to Key Food for cilantro before the snow started. Funny thing was that a guy in line was getting cilantro for a tortilla soup he and his girlfriend were going to make. I realized necessity was in the eye of the beholder. No bread or milk for either of us.

Mt. Beacon standing in wait for the blizzard


I imagine that the run on supermarkets before a storm arrives is less about fearing that there isn't enough food in the cupboards, but rather, it's about planning to make a home cooked meal that just may take that extra time that arrives as a gift with the weather report. (Assuming you can plan to take the time away from scheduled activities and remain off the roads as advised by the weathermen, Mayor Bloomberg and Governor Christie.)

 

Cooking is a soulful way to prepare for the unexpected. It can be meditative. It focuses the attention and becomes a creative act (especially if you don't follow a strict recipe, which is how I make soup.) I so enjoyed the process that I forgot about the storm until the snow started to fall. Magically, I felt the primitive response of knowing I was safely at home, just as the deer bed down long before the weather arrives, I had hunkered down to fill the air with pleasant aroma and to anticipate the warmth and good feeling when the soup spoon hit the bowl.

 

Some food for thought:  Soup seems to be the perfect meal for sharing in community. The story of 'stone soup' that comes together when everyone brings something to add to the pot is one of my favorite versions of re-telling the story of the fishes and loaves that are multiplied to feed the hungry. If everyone contributes something, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Maybe that is why I made the resolution to make soup each week this year. It is a reminder to always be prepared to feed unexpected guests. It symbolizes hospitality much more than any pineapple ever could. Soup is a celebration of every one's special gifts. It is a blessing to feel the synergistic properties of taking out one pot and adding one ingredient after another. It's great when you hear the call, "soup's on."

 

 

Black Bean Soup with a Twist

Step 1.
Saute chopped vegetables in 2-3 tbs. canola or olive oil until all are wilted.
(1 large shallot, 1 orange and 1 yellow pepper, 1 large green zucchini, 1 dried red chili pepper)

 

Step. 2
Add a handful each of fresh chopped cilantro and parsley and 3 cans (14 oz. ea.) of drained and rinsed black beans
 

Step 3.
Add organic chicken broth (32 oz.) and 1 cup water; season with salt and pepper to taste.
 

Step 4.
Add 1 cup blanched kale (frozen from last year's CSA share) and 1/2 cup Marsala cooking wine; cook for 20-30 min. more.

Step 5.
Transfer soup from pot (somewhat cooled) into blender and puree until as smooth as desired and place in large bowl.
You can also keep the soup chunky or reserve 1/2 as is to add back to 1/2 of the pureed mixture. Your option.
Return to pot and heat until hot enough to serve.
 



Step 6.
Serve in a bowl and garnish with more cilantro.
(This serving is part chunky and part smooth.)
Enjoy with multi-grain tortilla chips or warm bread, such as nan, and some hard cheese, like Dubliner. Why not?
This recipe makes 4-6 servings, depending on the size of the bowl.

 

Step 7.
Take a walk for a view of Mt. Beacon post-storm (before or after the soup, maybe even both!)



 

 





Beacon Bits -- Beacon's Rainbow!

Just as I pulled up to Yanerella's for tap class on Monday June 25th, a quick moving thunderstorm traveling from west to east, straight up from the Hudson River, along Main Street towards Mt. Beacon, let loose. A drenching downpour ensued intensely for 5 minutes, so I sat in the parked car to wait it out with some concern about the tree limbs that were swaying above. I was able to get out of the car in time to jump the rushing water at the curbside and head under the awning at Dance Bag on the corner of Chestnut Street across from Rite Aid. Since I sensed the timing was perfect, I decided to risk being late for class in order to gaze in anticipation for the break in the clouds in the west until the streaming sunlight emerged. When I turned back to the east, I wasn't disappointed. A most wonderful rainbow appeared in the heart of Main Street framed by Mt. Beacon, which reappeared as the mist lifted its veil after the passing storm had obscured the mountaintop momentarily.

ROY G. BIV intensified over several minutes and the sight was riveting and awesome.

There was an ironic twist as well; I learned that it was pizza, not a pot of gold, at the end of this rainbow. Yum!

And as every good rainstorm does, the air cleared beautifully so that today became a perfect day for my pick up at Common Ground Farm. Peas, turnips, kohlrabi, arugala, basil, savoy cabbage, radishes, braising greens and a couple of sunflower stems were included in this week's share. Receiving the bounty of the earth felt like a reminder of how blessed I was feeling. As I headed home, I remembered it was a primary day and that I needed to stop at the polling place where neighbors sit on the Election Board. I was utterly delighted to see that Pete and Toshi Seeger were heading back to their car just as I pulled into the parking lot. It was an even bigger thrill than yesterday's rainbow to know that I was heading into vote right after Pete and his family. I knew I was in the right place at the right time.

Some food for thought:

Being in the right place at the right time is pure serendipity. You cannot plan it. You cannot take it for granted. You cannot take responsibility for it. But you can notice it. Always be aware of what is possible. Pay attention to subtle cues. Put the cell phone down. Turn off the computer. Stop driving the car. Go dancing. Eat your vegetables. Don't forget to vote. Keep your sense of humor. Open your eyes. Put your hands out. Listen carefully. Take a whiff.  Life can be sensational. 

In memory of Nora Ephron, a sensational woman

Beacon Bits - Morning Musings

Morning walks along the quiet, private roads off the beaten path of Beacon have become a routine to look forward to each day. With Mt. Beacon to the east with the rising sun at the summit, peaking behind the cell phone towers, my eyes are wide open for spotting the diverse wildlife that I encounter. To date, I've seen migrating snapping turtles, a fox and her pups, deer and their fawns, two bucks, a "convention" of goldfinches, a blue heron, and a rare sighting of a bluebird. I usually regret that I don't have my camera in hand, but relieved that I can continue walking without losing my brisk pace.

The cooler morning air, crisp after a cold front moves through, is very satisfying during the dog days of August. But the wonder of mist and fog felt particularly joyful after several intense thunderstorms over the course of several evenings. I have seen Mt. Beacon shrouded in a lace curtain, blowing gently with the southerly air current. The stillness and usual quiet that accompanies this time when most of the human wildlife is still asleep sounds even more intense to the ear of the heart. Even a doe seemed mesmerized as she listened to my voice wishing her good monring and asking her not to run. But the chance sighting of a buck in the distance on the Craig House property was the reward for this day's early outing. I had seen him once before, but this time, the antler framed by the gray fog seemed to merge in the distance with the nearby branches of a tree; his strength and venerable stance as he stood watch was softened so that he appeared to be approachable. He watched as I continued my walk;  I wondered how large his territory is and how many of the fawns I'd spotted were his.

I recalled easily how I get so upset when I see the road kill along 9D -- a fawn here, a fox pup there, a doe - always a doe. I wonder what family member went missing and whose loss it was, With a small family and everpresent or looming loss, I sense my strong connection to the natural aspects of this very small and private community. I believe the wildlife are my neighbors as well and form part of the constant companionship that I sought after in Beacon.

Some food for thought: Celtic spirituality refers to the 'thin places' where heaven and earth meet and time and space are transcended. The morning mist and encounters with Mother Nature facilitate reflections of the spiritual side of life; that aspect of the self which seeks balance and harmony is dominant during my morning journey of a thousand steps. It's a warm and wonderful feeling to appreciate that this thin place can be found so close to my front door in the Hudson Highlands, ready and able to welcome me home to myself as I begin each new day.

Beacon Bits - To the Mountaintop

I did it! I finally got to hike with the Mt. Beacon Incline Railway Restoration Society (MBIRRS) on its monthly guided "tour" of the trail up to the top of the mountain. The heat and humidity of late July didn't quite catch up with us because of the shaded trails during the ascent. But the midday sun accompanied the amazing vista at the summit -- and oh, what a view! The group of hikers were congenial, the trail leaders (Kristi, Sandy, Frank and Ali) were knowledgeable and the surprise for the day was that a New York Times reporter Amanda Petrusich and photographer  Kelly Shimoda were hiking with us to interview Mayor Steve Gold of Beacon and Mike Colarusso of MBIRRS for their article for an upcoming Travel/Metropolitan section about day trip destinations close to the city. So one could say that I'm scooping the story since it won't be published until later in August, but I'll leave the history of Mt. Beacon and the plans for the return of the railway to the competent journalists and focus on telling the story about my hike in a more personal way.

I came to the hike only partially prepared with well-worn hiking boots, long socks, sunscreen, two bottles of water, raisins, backpack, hat and sunglasses. I had the sense that I would need a walking stick but had not previously purchased one at Mountain Tops in preparation. So I had a gnawing feeling that it could be my fatal flaw, especially when I saw that everyone except the photographer and a young athletic male had one in hand; Amanda got a loaner from the Mayor and there was one gentleman impeccably outfitted as per EMS for the hike who actually had two! In the parking lot, where the group assembled, I saw a table of t-shirts, shopping bags and caps for sale and mentioned how walking sticks might be a popular item to have available; it could even be a local craftsperson's handmade product for a homegrown touch. (Perhaps an idea for a Beacon cottage industry to supply hikers for the abundant, surrounding trails.) So I settled on purchasing a cap because my sunhat seemed to be less suitable for the occasion and it felt like another way of supporting MBIRRS in addition to my annual membership. When I mentioned my concern about the absence of a walking stick, I was reassured that sometimes one could find a suitable branch in the nearby wooded area or even find one that a hiker had left by the trail head. You can imagine my relief when that was exactly what happened; a suitable size stick  just right for my height was waiting for me right before the arduous climb up the steps that connect to the actual trail, a remnant of a ski trail from the Dutchess Ski Area that occupied this mountain for a decade in the 60's and 70's.

I remembered my encounter on my one and only trip to this ski area when I was in high school and came up from Brooklyn for a day of skiing in 1970 or 1971. The chairlift whipped around so quickly and I held on so tightly because of a precarious slope leading away from the landing that my hand came out of the down mitten; the distal joint of my left thumb was dislocated and it was perpendicular to the base. It was quickly corrected by the ski  patrol who popped it back into its socket. Ouch! I still remember that awful pain and my own first aid that doctored my thumb back to its full range of motion. Here I was, back on that mountain, climbing up where I had skied down; who would have ever guessed that forty years later, this hike would bring me back to this memory. I felt relieved that my right hand, tightly grasping the walking stick, would not succomb to a similar accident; unless of course, I slipped and fell on the gravel and rocks during the last steps of the ascent or during the descent, which somehow scared me more because of recent recurrent episodes of vertigo. But these thoughts were far from my mind as I chatted with new acquaintances, spoke to the Mayor about my hopes of having Beacon become a sister city with Bergen, Norway (because of the geography and the funicular connection), experienced the awesome sights of the 'river that runs both ways' -- the Shawgunks, Storm King Mountain, the surrounding towns and counties of the Hudson Highlands -- and saw why Continental armies used the mountain for fires to signal each other from Albany to New York City during the Revolutionary War.

Some food for thought: A mountain stands still in time, but only we can traverse its paths as we reflect on the past and move into the future. After this hike, I felt assured that the future of Mt. Beacon will reach its pinnacle as the MBIRRS pursues the re-development and building of the railway with the intended amenities for hikers and travelers (a restaurant, museum, viewing platform, all built for sustainability using Platinum LEEDS standards). Some people may think it will not match Mt. Beacon's heyday of the early 1900's with its casino, hotel and other entertainments for New Yorker's who could travel to and from the city for $1.00. However, some will acknowledge that the new railway will surpass the previous one by meeting the American Disabilities Act (ADA) accommodations, which will enable individuals to overcome the handicaps and obstacles that able-bodied people can surmount by simply using a walking stick to climb to the top of this historical and majestic mountaintop, in order to experience together with other sojourners, a shared perspective  when viewing this beautiful, ageless and expansive horizon in the Hudson Valley.

Beacon Bits - Rainbows

Now living on the west shore of the Hudson, I thought my chances of seeing an early evening summer rainbow after a late afternoon thundershower was mighty slim. I was grateful to know I'd still be driving up on the west side of the river from work in the evening when it might still be possible to catch a glimpse of a multi-colored arc over the Hudson -- a wonderfully renewing and inspiring sight for one who wants to remain hopeful in the midst of life's trials and tribulations. So much to my delight, when leaving Common Ground farm, the rain mist had begun to fall while I was still cutting my share of zinnias in the u-pick field and the sky was brightening in the west with rays of sunlight streaming across the field. I held my breath and waited and slowly returned to the car because I thought I'd receive the rainbow gift I was longing for after a difficulty week of family illness, work stress and news of the massacre in Norway. No rainbow in sight, I began to drive south on 9D, all the while, looking east in anticipation of an emerging prism in the sky. As I approached the Newburgh-Beacon bridge, I began to see the refracted light slowly emerging against the dark clouds through the gentle falling rain. It began to brighten. As I turned left onto Main Street, it became translucent as I passed Poppy's and Homespun. I could see in the distance that the arc began close to the ground in the parking lot of Scenic Hudson's Mt. Beacon Park and then transversed back over the very top of Mt. Beacon itself. I was so excited, I rolled down my car window and called to some people in the street to look up towards the eastern sky. It reminded me of my reputation as the 'rainbow whisperer' when I traveled to Scotland in 2003 and would call out to my fellow Celtic sojourners that a rainbow was getting ready to appear. (See Celtic Journeys for more information about travel to England, Wales, Scotland, Ireland.)

Some food for thought: Knowing when a rainbow might appear, being totally alert to that possibility, is a Zen moment, a gift of mindfulness, a touch of grace. We all need to make the time to search the horizon for the chance to see a rainbow and to remain hopeful when our expectations are not always met. The odds are that the occasional reward of a rainbow sighting will be transformative and magical each and every time, if only we connect to the present moment.

Rainbow Ratatouille

2 small white onions

2 small summer squash (yellow, green)

2 small eggplant (white, purple)

2 small ripe tomatoes

1-1/2 cups, organic, cooked garbanzo beans

garlic, basil, parsley, oregano, salt, pepper, olive oil, balsamic vinegar

Place olive oil in a pan, add chopped vegetables and cook until translucent.  

Add beans and seasoning to taste.

When fully cooked, add several teaspoons of balsamic vinegar before a final stir.

Makes 2-1/2 to 3 cups.

Author's Note: I've sighted two more rainbows over Mt. Beacon in the last week; what wonder and delight!