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Ostara Egg-Salad w/ Home-made Mayo + Food Enzymes

April 3, 2015 By Lauren

eggsandwich

Easter is named for Ostara–goddess of fertility, rebirth, light.  Many of our modern ways to celebrate Easter–with colored egg, grey bunny–are derived from older ones, with the egg and the hare as major pagan symbols of fertility, of the new life and new cycles that come with the arrival of Equinox, of Spring.

Red eggs, later, to symbolize the death and resurrection of Christ.  Later, still, hot-pink, baby-blue, lime-green.  My mom would buy 1 dozen eggs each, for my brother and me, and one of my most salient memories of the season is a week’s worth of hard-boiled eggs.

And egg-salad.  Because what else does one do w/ 24 cooked eggs?

This is a simple recipe, upraised by an ingredient that can be a bit intimidating:  mayo.  No, not Hellman’s.  I’m talking about home-made, creamy, enzyme-rich mayonnaise.  Once you’ve been converted, there’s no turning back.

Food Enzymes Demystified

When I say that mayo is an enzyme-rich condiment, what do I mean by that?

There’s a lot of talk about food enzymes these days, especially in raw food circles.  You’ve probably heard the claim that as cooked food (anything brought to a wet-heat above 118 degrees F) is denatured enzymatically-speaking it should be avoided in favor of raw foods, or foods that have all their enzymes intact.

What, exactly are enzymes?

Enzymes are complex proteins that act as catalysts in nearly every biochemical process that takes place in the body.  (p. 46 Fallon).

To put it simply, enzymes are the vital force that keeps our bodies, well, functioning as such.

The three main classifications of enzymes are metabolic, digestive, and food.

Our body makes metabolic and digestive enzymes from nutrients.  Metabolic enzymes help us to breath, to talk, to move, to think as well as affecting our behavior (p.46 Fallon).  Digestive enzymes are made by our pancreas and act as a digestive aid.

Food enzymes are enzymes our body doesn’t make.  Enzymes that we obtain through (you guessed it) food.  Like digestive enzymes, they aid digestion, initiating its processes and helping to fully break-down and assimilate nutrients in food.

There are three categories of food enzymes: proteases, for digesting proteins, lipases, for digesting fats, and amylases, for digesting carbohydrates.  I like to think of food enzymes as “helper” enzymes without which our pancreas would have to bear the majority of the enzymatic load.

Food enzymes are, indeed, ample in raw foods.  A diet composed of cooked foods, exclusively, leads to an over-worked pancreas with an inhibited function in regards to enzyme-production.

Less enzymes=less-digestion=less nutrients and, as posited by enzyme researcher and enthusiast Dr. Edward Howell, a shorter life-span, greater risk of illness and a lowered resistance to stress of all kinds. (p. 47 Fallon).  Dr. Howell, enzyme lover that he is, even formulated the following  Enzyme Nutrition Axiom:

The length of life is inversely proportional to the rate of exhaustion of the enzyme potential of an organism.  The increased use of food enzymes promotes a decreased rate of exhaustion of the enzyme potential.

Or, in other words:  more enzymes = more life

More.  Life.  Who wouldn’t want to sign up for that?!

referencing

So, if raw foods contain maximum-enzymes, remind me why we’re not all raw foodists again?

Gladly!  I’ve even broken it down into 3 easy parts:

#1.  Enzymes activity depends on the presence of adequate amounts of vitamins and minerals–including magnesium, manganese, copper, iron and zinc.

Vitamins and minerals are made more bio-available through cooking and cooking also neutralizes naturally occurring toxins in plant foods.

Take spinach, for example.  Raw spinach contains a high amount of oxalic acid, a compound that binds to certain nutrients–including magnesium, iron, copper and zinc–and blocks their absorption.  Cooking not only neutralizes oxalic acid, it also increases spinach’s mineral content.  Win/Win!

#2.  Enzymes don’t exist in abundance in many fruits and vegetables.

In fact, the list of plant foods high in enzymes is short: extra virgin olive oil and other unrefined oils, raw honey, grapes, figs, and tropical fruits including avocados, dates, bananas, papayas, pineapples, kiwis and mangoes. (p.47 Fallon).

Let’s continue using spinach as an example.  Spinach is far more nutritionally beneficial when you focus on its high vitamin and mineral content, instead of only thinking about its (low) enzyme content.

Plant foods like grains, legumes, nuts and seeds are rich in enzymes but also contain enzyme-inhibitors.  These are deactivated by sprouting, soaking in warm, acidic water, and fermenting however the nutrients found in these foods are far more bio-available after cooking.

#3. Raw food can be hard on the digestive-system. Folks with a sensitive digestive system–with IBS, Crohns or another auto-immune-disorder, anxiety, and so on–often don’t fare well on many raw foods.

This is where raw-condiments, like yogurt or home-made mayo, lacto-fermented carrots or sauerkraut, come into play.  Those with sensitive digestive systems can supplement their primarily cooked foods diet with enzyme-rich raw or fermented condiments.

egg-salad

This home-made mayo is filled with the fat-digesting enzyme lipase.  What better condiment to use in an omega-3-rich egg-salad?

And what better way to celebrate this fertility-season with something that provides a pathway to more life?

Print
Ostara Egg-Salad with Home-made Mayo

Recipe adapted from Mark Bittman's "How to Cook Everything Vegetarian"

Ingredients

    For the mayo:
  • 1 yolk from pasture-raised egg
  • 1 tablespoon dijon mustard
  • 1/4 cup of extra-virgin olive oil
  • 1 tablespoon lemon juice
  • pinch salt
  • For the egg salad:
  • 4 hard-boiled eggs, peeled and diced
  • couple spoonfuls of pickled carrots or gherkins, diced
  • 4 tablespoons home-made mayo
  • pinch of salt

Directions

    For the mayo:
  1. Add yolk to medium-sized mixing bowl and whisk in mustard. Start adding oil very slowly and whisk. It is important to only add a small amount--I'm talking drops--at first. Your mayo won't coagulate if you add your oil in too quickly. Keep adding drop-by-drop and whisk, add and whisk until your mixture starts to thicken. At this point you can add a bit more oil all at once.
  2. After oil has been all whisked in, add lemon juice and pinch of salt and whisk together. Taste and adjust seasoning.
  3. Voila! You've just made mayo. This will keep in the fridge 2 weeks.
  4. For the egg salad:
  5. Mix all ingredients together and enjoy!

If you'd like to make your mayo last longer, just add 1 tablespoon of whey at the end and let sit out for 7 hours before refrigerating. This will last several months in the fridge.

3.1

References
Fallon, Sally, 1999, 2001. Nourishing Traditions. Washington, DC. Newstrends Publishing Inc.

Filed Under: Animal, Egg, Lunch, Recipes, Seasons, Spring Tagged With: eggs, enzymes, lunch, mayonnaise, picnic, salad

Spring-time Torshi for Grandma Mary

March 27, 2015 By Lauren

I’m one-half first-generation American on my father’s side which means that my father’s an immigrant and I, at least by one-half, am an immigrant’s daughter.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, what that has come to mean for me here.

vegfortorshi

It’s been nearly seven months since I moved to Switzerland, seven months since I filled two suitcases with the majority of my things, seven months since I boarded a plane with the intention of staying put, settling down in an entirely new country, a country that I will, someday I reckon, call home, or at least a second one.

Unlike my father, I’m an ex-pat here not an immigrant.  This distinction has always caused eye-rolling on my part, but the difference, as far as I’ve seen, is that I can always go home.

It’s been nearly fifty-four years since my father, let’s call him (as those in his inner-circle [and outer-circle, come to think of it] do) Doc, left his first home.  Forty-nine since he emigrated to the U.S., by way of Israel.  Thirty-three since he moved from NYC to metro-Detroit, his fourth home.

packjar

When people ask me where my last name is from and I say Iraq there’s often a moment: of surprise, of intrigue, of brow-raising, “oh!”.  My heritage is Jewish and Christian, not Muslim, and I suppose I look different (and I am, after all, one-half Eastern European on my mom’s side) than the image of Iraqis many people have in their heads .

I suppose the Iraq of my grand-parent’s generation looked a lot different than the image of Iraq I’ve had shelled in my head.  I’ve had glimpses of this Iraq, from photo albums, Doc’s recollections; it exists for me, but it’s scattered, dispersed between the covers of newspapers, the footage on the news.

turnipbeet

I’ve been thinking of my grand-parents a lot, lately, and how radically their lives changed.  My grandmother was around my age when she came to the U.S.  I didn’t get to know her too well (she passed on when I was young), but I’ve been thinking about her and how her life took her across the world around the same time that mine has.

This week, I’m making a recipe for her, inspired by her to connect with her and my memories of what we shared.

turnipbeetjar

Mary, born in Baghdad, Iraq, American immigrant, devoted Catholic, mother of four.  Do these details really describe who you were?

I have other artifacts, too: a tape-recording of meditative breathing–Som/Om, Som/Om–, an aerobics tape atop your VCR, a glass-jar filled with matchbooks from the places you’d been, a carving of a man and woman intertwined in an embrace on your bed-side-table that would make a nine-year-old me turn pink.  An olive-wood rosary, icons of the Virgin Mother.  You were deeply religious, but not in the disciplinarian, god-fearing way.  More in a close-to-god (I’d even venture goddess, as your icon of choice was a woman) and his/her love kind of way.

picklejardeuxtorshione

Mostly, I remember you through food.  The grape-leaves we grew for you, for dolma, beneath the deck of our first home, that sprawling suburb with similarly-drawn houses facing each other across green and marshy lawn.  Your similarly green tabouli, drenched in lemon, always in the same banded-glass bowl that I often ate straight-out-of, with a big soup spoon.  Kibbeh–olive-oil, cinnamon, salt, the color of soil–which you’d press flat and slice like a pie.  A yellow onion, that you’d bite into like an apple.

A big jar of torshi on your fridge-door’s shelf.

torshitwo

Torshi is the word you can use for pickles from tables in the Balkans to those in the Hindu Kush.  Recipes differ, but the principle is the same–something preserved, made sour (with salt through lacto-fermentation, or with vinegar) for a tangy addition to your meal.

In Chinese medicine, they say the sour taste is yin, cooling, gathering, absorbent, most active in the liver, strengthening for weakened lungs, “proper food” for the “heartmind.”  It organizes scattered mental patterns, collects and holds together what has been dispersed.  (Pitchford, 312).

Mary was the daughter of an Armenian orphan, a man whose parents had been killed in the genocide.  He grew up in the company of Iraqi Christians–or Chaldeans–and married one.  Mary met my Gidu (grandpa in Arabic), a Jewish man, and fell in love.  This love would eventually cast them out from their home in Iraq, from Israel (where the Jewishness of the family was called into question), to a place where they could find (at that time) acceptance: the U.S.

Perhaps that is why, as immigrants, ex-pats, immigrants-daughters or grand-daughters or even great-great-granddaughters, we can gravitate toward the sour.  A taste to gather, to collect, to hold together what has been dispersed, to bring us together.

Mary’s torshi was made with cauliflower, carrots, cucumbers and cabbage.  I used the first turnips and radishes of Spring in my versions.  A bright sash of color for a pale-green early Spring.

torshitwoways

Print
Spring-time Torshi, 2 Ways

Ingredients

    Turnips + 1/8 Beet (Fuschia)
  • Bunch of turnips, sliced thin
  • 1/8 of a small beet, sliced thin
  • 1.5 tablespoons course sea-salt
  • De-chlorinated water
  • And/Or
  • Turnips + Radishes + Black Radish (Carnelian)
  • Bunch of radishes, sliced thin
  • Handful of turnips, sliced thin
  • 1 small black radish, sliced thin
  • 1.5 tablespoons course sea-salt
  • De-chlorinated water

Directions

  1. Sterilize a pint-sized glass jar by filling it with boiling water. Wait a few minutes, then drain. Fill with cold water to cool glass, then drain again.
  2. Press slices of vegetables into jar until it's full. Add salt. Pour cold, de-chlorinated water (Note: You can de-chlorinate your water by letting it stand for at least 30 minutes) until it covers vegetables. Seal with lid.

Let ferment in cool, dry place for at least 3 days and up to many months. After opening, store in fridge.

3.1

 

References:
Pitchford, Paul. Healing with Whole Foods. Berkeley: North Atlantic Books, 1993, 2002.

Filed Under: Ferments, Recipes, Seasons, Sides, Spring Tagged With: beets, condiments, lactoferments, pickles, probiotics, radishes, spring, torshi, turnips

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