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Alex, the drive by slawer, breezed into my house, presented me with this gift, wrote down Grandma Quinn's recipe and departed faster than my dog could figure out a way to maneuver himself into her car. Prior to her departure I announced that I didn't intend on sharing it. I kept my word. I couldn't bear the thought of this labor of love being wasted on the tastebuds of my children. I tossed them a carrot.
First off, however, I do need to preface this with the fact that I have grown out of my enjoyment of cooking. My time cooking onboard Schooners and yachts on the coast of Maine in my single years was
Fun-ish when seas were calm but downright torture close to the Bermuda triangle in 25 ft breaking undulations. Now faced with the prospect of having to cook every night as a wife and mom of two, I am done. So when someone delivers food to my doorstep, I cry. But it gets worse. When my father and mother-in-law bring a gourmet meal every time they visit I squelch the urge to tamper with their spark plugs and car battery. My resistance to cooking is becoming pathological.
The Zen of this gift appeared in perfectly diced 3/8" crunchy tidbits. It must have taken all afternoon. Most people in this frantic achievement oriented mindset would have needed to have taken a sedative prior to embarking on this recipe. Alex, creator O' slaw, had an alternative approach. She put God-In-Slaw. She viewed this experience with such infinite gratitude because of the significance the recipe held. For years she tried to recreate this childhood memory of summer BBQ's where this salad's dressing soggied the bottom of everyone's hamburger bun. She thought the recipe had died along with her Grandmother. Yet, low and behold, a cousin carried the torch. Alex rejoiced in the privilege of being able to resurrect this long lost side. Decades of minced fingertips and grated knuckles unlocked a vestige of love that resided in the memories of Grandma Quinn. The love was carried forth in this gift. Love in the vegetables, Love of the process, Love in the memories, Love of the giving, Love of friendship = God-In-Slaw.
The moment I received this salad I gobbed down two cheek-stuffing spoonfuls while I left Alex to watch in delighted horror. The minute following her departure I unleashed a part of me that I had never met before; a passionate slawnivore. By the 3/4 mark something had to give. I could have easily polished off the entire vat but thought it better to save some for the following day. So, later that night in meditation my coleslaw fluid mind coleslaw drifted into the oneness coleslaw of coleslaw being.
I was able to hold off eating the rest until 3pm the next day and felt compelled to commemorate this experience by snapping the last remaining 1/4 cup. It was nip and tuck as I came close to biting my own hand in the process of taking the picture. My food-stylist professor at CIA would have had heart failure if she proofed this shot. It's a picture only a mother could love, radiant with humility and gratitude.
So, I ask you this...during the course of a month, week, day or hour how does your God-In-Slaw manifest? Excavate it. Own it. Rejoice in it. Share it. Make the world a brighter place by sharing what you love, your unique skills, your talents, your abundance. You were put here in this space and time to help the world unfold with Love.
Ann Quinn's Coleslaw
(reprinted with the permission of Alex Lagarto)
1 red bell pepper
1 green pepper
1 sweet onion
3 celery stalks
chop above ingredients as small as you can
2 carrots
1 head green cabbage
shred above ingredients
1 t. (no more no less) French's yellow mustard
3 T. Hellman's mayo
1/2 t. onion powder
1/4 t. garlic powder
salt & pepper to taste
Refrigerate overnight, stir and serve.
