What I'm Hating Lately

And the 'Safe and Sound' Recipe My Hatred Inspired

(My apologies for getting this in your inbox a day late. Part of that is because of some major developments happening over here in the Silva-Smucker household, but the other part? Well, I blame that on the solar eclipse. Now, on with the fun!)

Growing up in our household, we had a few words that we were, under no circumstances, allowed to say. Of course, all the typical 4-letter culprits were off limits (at least to everyone under the age of 18.) But we had a few additions to the list:

1. God- We were church-going folk so that one had a particular potency to it that might put your soul in danger of eternal damnation.

2. Sucks- If my mom happened to overhear this one, you just won yourself a non-stop flight to a Palmolive-sponsored mouth washing.

3. Hate

This last word was a tricky one. You could absolutely never use this as a verb with a human being as its direct object. Of course, I mumbled it under my breath on occasion, but because of my mom’s over-the-top feelings toward the word, I even felt bad about that. In fact, she didn’t even like you saying it in regards to a non-human thing. “It’s such a strong word,” Mom would say, “Instead, why don’t you say ‘I really dislike’ whatever it is.”

So that became my habit. Growing up, I used the word ‘hate’ on few occasions, and to this day, I still usually feel a twinge of guilt when it slips out of my mouth. But as I’ve grown up I’ve found more things I am truly justified in hating. That’s why I can say the following statement with pure, guiltless passion.

I hate cancer.

I mean, if it were a creature made of flesh and bone, I’d pummel it with my fists and feet till we were both bloodied beyond recognition. I hate it so so much. At this point in time, I have multiple friends and family fighting this monster, and each week it feels like the number is growing.

Yes, I called it a monster and that isn’t me being hyperbolic. It is a monster. I’ve seen it up close.

Almost two years ago, my parents were visiting us for our oldest son’s high school graduation. My dad was a bit under the weather while they were here, but we didn’t give it much thought. He and my mom had spent much of the spring traveling around visiting with family, so we figured all the miles on highways and skyways were just catching up with him. Then on the day of my son’s graduation, his body decided to make the message clearer. He was not okay. After a visit to urgent care, he and my mom decided to drive back to Tennessee so he could meet with his family doctor and get some tests done. By the time they got back home, Dad was in the emergency room.

The long and short of it? They found cancer.

Because of its location, they had to do a very risky, very intrusive surgery called The Whipple Procedure. Basically, imagine someone cutting a big hole in the center of your digestive system, removing all those goodies, and then trying to figure out how to rewire everything you’ve got left to you can, you know, live. It’s safe to say this isn’t a bucket list item for anyone.

But against all odds, the procedure went great. They got the cancer. We fist pumped and did our celebratory dances. Dad was gonna be fine!

Cue the record scratch.

In the weeks and months that followed, we saw what cancer does, even after it’s left your body. The wake of destruction it leaves behind is staggering. Even a year and a half later, my dad looks and feels like a shadow of who he once was. Cancer altered his body forever. And every 3 months, he goes back to the doctor to see if it has reared its ugly head once again because his cancer’s chance of recurrence is extremely high.

One of the only good things that came of this time in our family’s life is that my parents moved in with us for almost a year while my dad recovered. I’d never lived close to my parents since college, let alone in the same house. When I told my friends about the arrangement, they’d give me pitying smiles and pats on the back. “In your house? Really, they’re living with you? Good luck.”

The thing was, we didn’t need the good luck. We really loved having my parents here. And while my mom helped Dad with all the logistical things and personal care, I got to cook for them. I know, I know, that’s not everyone’s dream come true, but it was mine. I love to cook, especially when I get to cook for the people I love most.

There was a tiny problem, though. After my dad got the new duct work fitted into his digestive system, he was a different eater than he had been for the previous 43 years of my life. In the past, my dad would eat anything (except beets), and he ate them in copious amounts. We loved to tease him about his mixing bowl salads and the ease with which he could eat an entire one of my mom’s homemade cherry pies.

Post-cancer, this was no longer my dad’s MO. He could only take a handful of bites of any given dish, and the blander the better. This coming from the man who, when asked how hot he wanted his curry at the local thai restaurant, always asked for a 10 without batting an eyelash.

I wasn’t sure how to cook for my dad in this new state, and it was a lot of trial and error. Though he didn’t like meat anymore (good for me since I’m vegetarian), even his relationship with veggies had serious boundaries. Salads were no longer an option (too much roughage) as well as most vegetables, unless they were cooked within an inch of their lives.

Night after night, I’d cook dinner. When the table was set, he’d make his slow ascent up the steps from their basement apartment, and my heart would beat a bit faster. Will he even be able to eat this? I’d wonder as I set his plate in front of him. There were definitely nights when I missed by a long shot. My sweet potato curry was way too spicy or my tomato soup to acidic.

But occasionally, I’d hit the mark. He’d sit down and take his first bite and nod towards his bowl. “That’s good, Maile,” he’d say in a soft voice. “That’s really good.” For a man who seldom talked or smiled anymore, that was high praise. I’d exhale all my anxiety and start packing up the leftovers into Tupperwares to put in their fridge downstairs.

One such meal is the recipe I’m sharing with you below. It’s the kind of chowder that feels pillowy soft going down but tastes hearty enough to keep you warm and cozy on a cold night. It’s comfort and safety all in one bite. No, it doesn’t cure cancer. Man, how I wish it did. But it brings the good and the wholesome nearer, if only for a few moments. And somedays, that has to be enough.

Safe and Sound Potato Chowder

Ingredients:

3 leeks, white & light green parts sliced thin

3 stalks celery, diced

1 carrot, diced

3 large yellow potatoes, diced large

4 c. vegetable or no-chicken broth, divided

1 c. raw cashews, soaked for at least 2 hours and drained (if using a high-powered blender such as my beloved Vitamix, no soaking is required)

8 oz. button mushrooms, chopped

1/4 c. nutritional yeast

1 tbsp. fresh lemon juice

2 tsp. wakame flakes or 1/2 a sheet of nori cut into tiny squares (these are both forms of seaweed and add a nice, salty, sea flavor to the chowder—nori might be easier to come by but the wakame requires none of the tedious scissor snipping)

salt and pepper to taste

Instructions:

Put a few generous lugs of broth into a soup pot set over medium high heat. When the broth gets sizzling, toss in the leeks, celery, and carrots, and let them dance around the pot for a good 5-7 minutes, getting nice and loosened up. While they’re doing the tango, pour 2 c. of broth in your blender along with the soaked cashews. Turn it on high and whiz for at least a minute or until mixture is smooth.

Back at the pot, add your potatoes to the mix and pour the remaining broth over all the veggies. Bring to a boil, put the lid on the pot, and then reduce to a simmer, letting the veggies cook till the potatoes soften up, about 10-15 minutes. About halfway through the potatoes’ bath time, add the mushrooms in to cook along with the taters.

When the potatoes are fork tender, pour in the cashew cream from your blender, turn the heat back up to medium, and let the whole concoction come to a soft boil. Add in the nutritional yeast and stir soup till it starts to thicken. Add in the lemon juice and wakame (or nori,) then adjust the seasonings to your taste. Turn off the heat, pour into generously sized bowls and enjoy with hearty chunks of bread.

Savor the taste of being safe and sound, friends; safe and sound.

Serves 4-6.