An Organic Urban Yard in Less Time Than a Sit-Com

I grew up in the Detroit area and heard much made of Stroh’s “fire-brewed” beer. Now that I make my own beer, I realize that this claim was far less exotic than it seemed, but ever since I got the woodstove, I’ve wanted to attempt a batch of beer on it. Last Sunday afternoon the weather was beautiful, and brewing seemed like the perfect excuse to stay outside. I had *most* of the ingredients for this recipe, but I figured since this was an experimental batch anyway a bit of careful variation would be tolerated.

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Imported used to mean something, she says in her most curmudgeonly tone of voice…

“Imported” was rare, or unusual, or special in some way. At this time in history, due to our global economy or world market forces or whatever, many of the produces we see in stores are imported. Our fresh vegetables come from Peru or Mexico, our fish from Bangladesh or Viet Nam, housewares from China or Taiwan. Some of the formerly imported cars are mostly or completely manufactured in the US. We are used to labels or signs that tell us our purchases have traveled greater distances than most of us will in our lifetimes. None of this is surprising anymore.

Kenya Simba Lion Coffee

Nonetheless, I was surprised and delighted when someone I love (our daughter) brought something we love (coffee) from her recent trip to Kenya all the way back home to Michigan. She bought it in a store using local currency. She made room in her luggage for it and carried it through customs and inspections. She gave it to us with her own hands. That kind of importing is utterly amazing!

To be very upfront: our Egg Foo Young is probably not a very authentic recipe. Then again, I don’t know that Egg Foo Young really counts as an authentic Chinese dish.

All that aside, Egg Foo Young, as we’ve come to make it, is a delicious, handy, easy and healthy meal. We like it best without the gravy or sauce that sometimes accompanies it.

Our Egg Foo Young starts with a jar full of homegrown mung bean sprouts. When the jar is filled, it’s time to make Egg Foo Young.

Slice and saute a large onion until soft and golden.

Wash and chop your sprouts into 2 or 3 inch lengths.

In a bowl, combine 1 cup egg whites with 3 whole eggs.

Add the cooked onions and the chopped bean sprouts to the bowl and stir well to combine.

If you are making vegetarian Egg Foo Young, ignore the lovely shrimp in the picture and skip the next step.

We don’t skip it usually. We like a bit of meat with our meals so we add leftover cooked chicken, pork, or beef.

Or, if it’s your lucky day, you could add 1/2 of raw peeled shrimp. Shrimp are great in this dish because they have about the same cooking time as the rest of the dish — most notably the egg– so they come out just perfect. These were simply frozen shell-on shrimp from the big grocery store bought on sale. They aren’t fancy but they contribute a festive touch to this dish.

Once all your ingredients are combined, get your non-stick pan nice and hot over a medium-high heat. This is another spot where we part company with some Chinese restaurants; we pan fry the patties in minimum oil so they come out light and not greasy. We use a little cooking spray and a touch of oil in the pan.

Stir your egg mixture and, using a ladle, scoop out 1/3 cup and add to your hot pan. I use a rubber heat-tolerant spatula to “tame” the egg and keep the structure patty-like as it cooks.

Watch for the egg to cook and, in this case, for the shrimp to turn slightly pink. Then it’s time to flip, for which I use the other kind of spatula, AKA the pancake turner.

Let the patties cook just a couple minutes more, until the egg is set and the shrimp are cooked. The plate up and enjoy!

Variations on Egg Foo Young ingredients are limited only by your imagination and the content of your refrigerator. From the vegetable realm, you could add celery, peppers, peas, finely chopped or shredded carrots, spinach, or green onions. If you have them on hand, water chestnuts or bamboo shoots would work. Tofu would also be great addition.

Egg Foo Young doesn’t have to be delivered to your door or be a fried gravy-covered health hazard. Minimal effort results in a delicious and not-bad-for-you meal. Leftover patties are great for satisfying snacks or are a portable surprise in a packed lunch. It’s an easy dish that can help you both use up some leftovers and get dinner on the table in a hurry.

The “gold standard” for Lenten fish dinners is St. Albert the Great, at least in my humble, yet correct, opinion. True, sentiment might play a role. I ate my first Lenten fish dinner at St. Albert’s, lo some five years ago when my sister- and brother-in-law invited us to tag along, and every year during the short season of Lent, Jan and I always return “home” at least once. Tonight was our most recent visit, and we were not disappointed.

St. Albert the Great in Dearborn Heights, MI

Traditionally, it’s the Mac and Cheese that’s the big attraction here but tonight both the deep-fried and the baked fish nudged into center stage. The baked fish was moist and tender and though I couldn’t identify the seasoning (Jan theorizes it’s thyme and paprika among others), it was particularly tasty. The fried fish was a solid rendition, flavorful but with that satisfying crunch. Even the french fries tasted especially good tonight.

As sides, there were green beans and tossed salad, both of which I avoid on general principle, as well as coffee and the nearly-magenta-colored concoction Jan and I call “church punch” to drink. There was also pop and bottled water for an extra fee. The “good” desserts were gone by the time I finished filling up on fish (three plates! YUM) so I got a store-bought cupcake instead of the home-made carrot cake I would have sworn I saw at the table earlier.

The only off-note to the meal was the lack of crowds. In the past, there have been so many folks cycling through that there was frequently a line. I was a little disoriented when I was able to pay for my meal and then set right up to the counter to be served. I’m protective of this particular spot, and I hope the lack of patrons is only a mid-Lent dip in attendance and not an indicator of declining numbers in general.

I grew up not far from here. Like we experienced in Dexter last week, these people feel like my neighbors, my friends, though I don’t know anyone here personally, other than the ones we bring along. During a previous visit, the jovial priest of the parish walked up and down between the tables and greeted folks, telling jokes and making everyone feel comfortable, even us mis-believing protestants. I’m sure we would have come to disagreement pretty quickly if we let our brains start talking. But as long as our hearts – and perhaps our bellies – were in charge, we got along fantastically. If you get a chance to attend a Lenten fish dinner in your area, or any community sponsored meal, I really hope you can experience this sense of belonging, the sense of place at the table.

Short addendum for Jan: In a way, it seems a little off-base to indulge in a veritable feast during Lent, which is usually thought of as a season of sacrifice and preparation. Maybe instead of food or treats, what we might sacrifice, or let go of, or loosen is our isolation, or shyness, or hesitation– whatever it is that holds us back from seeing our neighborhood as a larger space and our neighbors as an even larger group of people. Another thing to consider, perhaps, is that the six-week long season is the perfect time to take up a practice and make it a habit. This could be a habit of reaching out, of being friendlier, doing something new, or investing time in relationships.

It’s coming up on five months since my mom-in-law passed away; the loss still feels new. Jim and I have been a couple for 30 years now, so the relationship between Mom and I was long enough to be parent-child like, but mostly ours was a dear, long-time friendship. She liked to tell people that we were unique among mothers and daughters-in-law because we got along so well and so peacefully! Mom was someone who was always interested in the details of life– what my day had been like, who I had spoken to, what was dinner, what the children were up to, whatever cute thing the granddaughter had said or done, what was happening in the garden. Her fascination with daily events was extraordinary. She cultivated relationships through that love of news and that caring connection.

Just this week, I wrapped up the difficult task of writing thank you notes to friends and relatives who sent cards or meals or attended the memorial services. This writing project took me longer than I wanted it to, but, like grief itself, there were some stages in the process. At first, writing notes just made me too sad so I put it off. Next, I tried to find periods of time to get organized; I didn’t want to miss anyone or to send duplicates to same recipient. Finally, the conclusion that I came to was that I wanted to Do It Right.

For me, Doing It Right meant writing a note to each friend or relative along with the little form card. I wanted them to know that their gestures meant a lot to us– and they certainly did. Being surrounded by friends and family members– in person or by mail– is a wonderful, sustaining feeling in the midst of sadness. Knowing that you are not alone helps you carry on.

I also wanted to make sure people knew how much Mom appreciated them too. Towards the end of her life, she wasn’t able to keep up with correspondence or contact the way she had at one time. Cards went unanswered and calls un-returned. She still loved getting calls and cards, however; I am rather certain she saved every card she ever received! Often I opened and read her mail to her, and she was simply delighted– there is no other word– to get cards and notes.

Some sympathy cards we received came from our friends, but there were many from Mom’s friends, people we know only through her– college friends, old neighbors, committee members from her previous church. When I wrote notes to them, I was conscious too that I was saying a series of small goodbyes along with my thank you’s. The link between those people and me was Mom; we won’t necessarily have occasion to talk again ever. Mom maintained those relationships. It’s because of her that I know of them at all, that they reached out to comfort us, and that I have the chance to share our gratitude while we still grieve.