I couldn't think of a better way to begin telling you about who I am than to tell you a story about my Dad, which is ultimately a story about how one thing can shift the course of our lives, and our perspectives. It's a story about breaking down and building up. About my move to the Lehigh Valley and, after years of anticipating the day I could leave to find a city with more opportunity, making the deliberate decision to stay here and be a part of creating the kind of place I was proud to live. It's about how writing and cooking and becoming vegan saved my life, and how I work to share those ideas with others.
But back to my Dad. In October of 2000, his diabetes led to an infection in his foot, which then spread throughout his body. He was bedridden for a month. I did the grocery shopping and prepared meals. In November, he went to the hospital where one of his legs was amputated from the knee down. While recovering and making plans for physical therapy with an artificial limb, he developed blood poisoning. My relatives explained the sudden and drastic decline of his health, they explained the doctors cutting him open and taking out his organs to clean his blood, how they washed these living, breathing, pulsing pieces of my father the way one washes the good china.
The last time I saw him, we were alone in his hospital room and his eyes rolled back in his head in between our attempts at casual conversation. I drove home on icy streets blurred by tears. I was home just five minutes before we got the call from the hospital.
He was 46 years old, and missed my high school graduation by two months.
After his death, I experienced my days through a lens of raw sensitivity to dying and suffering. The world sat heavy under a low gray cloud, the world a little dimmer in its heartbreaking unpredictability. This was a shock to others and to me, as my disposition has always been one of an inherent optimist (despite teenage years spent reading everything by Sylvia Plath).
Watching the news was a horror show, wilting flowers were a symbolic reminder of mortality, and food—in particular, animal products—made sitting down to eat uncomfortable. I remember looking at chicken nuggets in my high school cafeteria and thinking they may have been some other chicken's Dad. I just didn't want to be a part of hurting anyone or anything. There was enough sadness.
I recognized that as one individual girl I couldn't wish away all the suffering in the world, but I vowed to do what I could to make choices that would come from a place of kindness and love, to honor my Dad.
Voices and laughter and the smell of Italian food and the colors of clothes in retail windows became the canvas for my humble attempt at creating a fresh start.
Fast-forward to 2009, post graduation from Cedar Crest College and a few years stumbling through adulthood. Life had a good, hard laugh at my plans and I found myself once again in an unpredictable and vulnerable place. I became paralyzed with worry about where I was in my life, my future, not having “it” all figured out (whatever “it” would turn out to be), and found myself pulled into the undercurrent of depression. I took a medical leave from my job for several months. I survived on credit cards and a good therapist.
It was the pull for connection and purpose that helped me come out from under the safety of my bedspread, and I began to walk around downtown Bethlehem to physically be in the presence of people. Voices and laughter and the smell of Italian food and the colors of clothes in retail windows became the canvas for my humble attempt at creating a fresh start.
It was in those moments that I fell in love with the Lehigh Valley. It was a slow but undeniable love, and after months of courting my feelings about the Valley with afternoons reading in local coffee shops and slow walks to the Bethlehem library to be cocooned by the comfort of books, this undeniable knowing took root in my heart that said: “This is your home. You can do good things here. Running away to another town won't change anything. Stay here and become a force, make an impact, be a source of positive change. Give the Valley another chance and you'll get one, too.”
I was unsure about most everything in my life, except that I needed to start writing again, cooking was a way to get out of my head through the meditative act of chopping vegetables, and a desire to make kind and compassionate choices by way of a vegan lifestyle meant I also had to be kind and compassionate to myself. That's when I began to heal.
I started my blog Save the Kales! in February, 2010, as an outlet to share recipes, daily inspirations and my blossoming admiration of the Lehigh Valley. Save the Kales! lead me to art openings, comedy shows, real-life friendships and a forceful leap out of my comfort zone. It was full of fascinating people who shared the same vision, to put down roots and build our communities instead of griping that someone else hadn't done the work. It seemed all at once everyone got on the same page.
Despite living here since 2001, I had never intentionally built a life as I always had one foot out the door headed for somewhere else. As I rediscovered the potential of my town, I was welcomed with open arms, and I even got emails from people saying they wanted to move here because it seemed like such a thriving place for young, creative professionals.
Through the blog (and some embarrassing attempts at self-shot cooking videos which remain online for posterity and a big slice of humble pie), I made friends from Post Sputnik Video Production, and together we created a series of Internet cooking videos as a fun project and to expand our skills in talking on camera and video production. This lead to one of the greatest accomplishments of my life: a half-hour cooking and lifestyle television show on RCN cable.
Save the Kales! has been a TV show for nearly two years, and is another outlet for my desire to teach people how to make delicious vegan recipes and promote the efforts of small businesses and organizations in our community. We've been to an organic tofu factory in Allentown, to community gardens that exchange volunteer hours for fresh food, to organizations that hold classes on environmental responsibility, showcasing the progressive and creative efforts in the Lehigh Valley is what continues to inspire me to keep fighting the good fight, to remember that hard work is worth it.
In my cooking, my goal is to educate people in an inclusive and welcoming way, to meet them where they are within their own budgets and kitchen appliances, and show, not just tell, how to make small changes that can leave a positive impact both physical and mental.
It's easy to climb atop a cruelty- and paraben-free soapbox and tell people what they “should” do—buy organic, grow your own vegetables, shop from local farms, don't eat GMOs—but making these statements implies everyone else has the available time to shop and cook from scratch every day, an arsenal of healthy recipes and cooking know-how, access to fresh, local, organic vegetables, or even the knowledge of why we'd consider any of these things important. It's presumptuous to point fingers at someone's lifestyle and deduce that making changes about the food they eat, something most of us do three to five times a day, is a simple fix. Food is political and emotional. I believe in being an example and not just a loudspeaker.
Food is political and emotional. I believe in being an example and not just a loudspeaker.
It's important for me to share my story, how honoring my dad and my desire to make a positive impact on the world (and myself) led me to veganism. People hear “vegan” and conjure up all kinds of ideas about what means. In short, it means abstaining from using animal products and byproducts (and extends to personal products, clothing and household supplies). For me, it's about living in a way that promotes love and compassion as much as possible in an imperfect world.
And anyway, all of us would do better to eat more vegetables.
Fresh Perspectives is meant to chronicle my love of the Lehigh Valley, seeking beauty in everything, living with true mindfulness to be kind in a world that makes it easy to post an Internet meme about kindness while forgetting to show it in our actions. It's about simple and unintimidating recipes, and inclusiveness, and honoring where we come from while striving to be better.
I spend my free time looking for the treasures I've still not uncovered in the Valley, like the small businesses built on passion and good intentions, the artists that make it a more beautiful and vibrant place, and the food that can nourish our bodies and a sense of community pride. This column will be about those, too.
I couldn't be more humbled and thrilled to invite you to try new recipes and see your town with new eyes, with a fresh perspective. Leaving you today with my favorite go-to munchie with benefits: Smoky Thyme and Lemon Roasted Chickpeas.
I'm a savory foods girl, and this is a favorite simple and customizable snack that is also great for anyone with common food allergies. I have almost all ingredients in my home at any time, which means I can throw it together for last-minute guests without a trip to the store. It looks fancy and tastes delicious, and you can use whatever spices or herbs you love. I recommend springing for smoked paprika, as its earthy smoky flavor takes any dish to another level.
Smoky Thyme + Lemon Roasted Chickpeas
(vegan. gluten-free. soy-free.)
3 cups chickpeas (two 15.5 oz cans)2 Tablespoons olive oil1 Tablespoon fresh thyme leaves1 ½ tsp smoked paprika½ teaspoon garlic powderzest of 1 lemon
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Rinse chickpeas under water, then set on paper towels and pat dry.
In a mixing bowl, combine all ingredients except chickpeas, and whisk together to make a paste. Add chickpeas to the bowl and coat with spices.
Pour them on a rimmed baking sheet in a single layer, and put them in the oven for 10 minutes. Take them out, toss, and put them in for another 10 minutes.
Do this once more for a total cook time of 30 minutes. Salt to taste. Chickpeas will be crunchy, and once cooled, can be kept in a sealed container for a few days.
For More Recipes and inspiration, visit Jaime's blog at savethekales.com.You can also tweet Jaime @savethekales.
