Uncertainty, My Father, and the Book

When I was a beginning teacher at SF State University, I had the temerity to tell a student that I didn’t know the answer to his question. I don’t remember the question now, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that he was flabbergasted.

This is what I said: “I don’t know the answer to that but I’m happy to help you find the answer.” I thought that was a reasonable way to deal with my situation of not knowing.  I think I’ve always been comfortable saying, “I don’t know.” It feels quite natural to me.

When I came to Buddhism later in life I discovered that “not knowing” is one of the core principles of practice and the happy righteous life. What is true is that we don’t know because life is filled with uncertainty, and we have little control over the thoughts and actions of those around us.

Our practice then becomes a process of meeting the dramas and events of our lives with an open mind and a letting go of attachment to outcomes.

This subject of uncertainty occupies me now because I inhabit a body that is showing its age in some challenging ways, and I am slowly learning to meet what arises not with angst or obsession to control, but with both curiosity and kindness that helps me navigate the journey. 

My father was a man with a heart condition who took beautiful care of himself. He lived his life as though he were a vital young fellow: he jogged, played tennis, fell in love in his mid-60s, and ate like a horse without ever getting fat. While vacationing with family members, he died at 68 playing tennis, departing quickly doing something he loved. 

How we all would wish that for ourselves...

Though we were not that close in life, I hold my father in my heart now. Why? Because I think he understood uncertainty and chose to live his life with fullness and appreciation, even bravery. I wish I could have told him what that meant to me.

On the lighter side, I’ve learned that uncertainty visits us in many joyful ways, like when you write a reflection about tomatoes and discover that you have a book inside you that needs to come out.  Or when you discover the outpouring of compassion from a surprising person after you’ve broken your leg ... or when one of your daughters, the least expressive, randomly tells you she loves you ... or you go to your favorite coffee joint and discover a brand new item on the menu (the turmeric caramel bomb).

I bet you could come up with any number of occasions of uncertainty:  you adopt a homely needy dog at the pound, and he turns out to be a being who changes your life.  OR... you go into the voting booth and cast your ballot assuming your guy will win ... and then?

You just never know, do you?

We can move forward, making the best plans possible, plans that are helpful, smart, and kind, knowing that those plans may not bring us what we desire. Having this spaciousness of mind is refreshing and expansive, I think. It allows more in. We become more of a part of the larger world around us. 

I wish that for everyone.

So, I am going to finish my food book without knowing what exactly will happen to it ...  no certainty about publication, or how widely read by   numbers of people, or how and when and with whom it's talked about and appreciated.

Will it fly in the media or because people keep talking about it? Or both? Or neither? I just don’t know.  Uncertain.

But I will keep writing.

And I will finish this book.

With gratitude for food and to you for reading my words and taking my books home!

Mag

•••

Photo by Catherine Kay Greenup on Unsplash

Mag Dimond Comment
Taste and Pleasure

I probably wouldn’t be writing about food if I hadn’t had a lifetime of pleasure associated with it. This pleasure has been nourishment and comfort and inspiration for me.

I want to talk about the pleasure factor of our collective eating experiences. We all have responses to the food we put in our mouths, and often it is pronounced. We find we are “in love” with artichokes (that’s me) or scalloped potatoes or chicken soup, and then on the other hand, we’re sort of in neutral zone about some things like carrots or beef stew, and clearly aversive to other foods like Fruit Loops or rutabagas...

Since my work in this book is so founded on our sensory pleasure with food, I decided to investigate the phenomenon of tasting and discovering pleasure.

What happens when we bite into a peach, a hot dog, or a piece of chocolate? This involves a sequence of experiences like: taste, aroma, texture, temperature, “mouthfeel” and more, and they cause us to feel satisfied or unsatisfied, or indifferent...

Here’s how the process of discovering that satisfaction or its opposite unfolds: when we taste a morsel of food, we grasp with our tongues which are covered in taste papillae where the infamous “taste buds” live... All those taste buds contain taste “receptor cells” layered like flower petals. (These fall into several distinct characteristics: salty, sweet, bitter, sour, umani or savory). These cells are replaced every 9-15 days.

A signal is ultimately sent from these tiny cells to the part of the brain that controls breathing, heart rate and other bodily functions (the primitive part of the brain). It turns out that when those elements that the body needs (like salt and sugar) reach the primitive brain, dopamine is released followed by a flush of endorphins – in other words, pleasure.

Brillat Savarin, the French lawyer and gourmand and author of the highly revered food book called Physiology of Taste, wrote: “taste invites us by pleasure to repair the losses which result from the use of life”.

In other words, the pleasure we take in food seems to signify we are feeding ourselves helpful nourishment.  I truly love this idea.

This mix of chemicals in the brain that signifies pleasure seems to act as a reward to man and animals for doing something that aids in his/her own survival.  “Pleasure and displeasure are nature’s way of helping ensure that animals stay alive long enough to make more of themselves and pass on their genes.”  (From the book Delicious)

When you think about it, this premise seems essential to the survival of the fittest... but then that’s my own little private aside here.  The fact that animals over all the millenia have had the capacity to not only taste but experience “pleasure” makes me truly happy for some odd reason.  Even though I’ve trekked the world and observed a great array of creatures both wild and domestic, I had never stopped to think about whether or not animals took actual pleasure in eating...

Now back to people pleasures with food.

The great Alice Waters of Chez Panisse in Berkeley has written:  

“Food is the easiest way for all of us to engage with beauty in our everyday lives.  Any meal has the potential to crack us open to pleasure and connection and joy.  Cooking and eating food together can be an everyday experience of beauty that reaches all of our senses”

To spark the imagination in the food pleasure realm I thought I’d offer up some (to me) amazing taste pleasures and invite you to consider what arises in your own imagination.

As to the infamous and seductive flavor called SWEET, I’d have to say that such foods as honey, strawberry jam, and sweet potatoes come to my mind. 

  1. Honey coats the mouth with a sticky comforting earthy flavor, sometimes making our cheeks pucker just a bit, and the other seductive thing about honey is where it came from:  the great industrious honey bee. 

  2. I see strawberry jam on wonderful homemade bread and I know happiness follows eating that. 

  3. Sweet potatoes fill your mouth with a soft orange or pale yellow flesh that assures your of nourishment.  Put butter in that warm potato and you know you’re going to be comforted.

I have to confess I’m a sucker for SALTY, another of our primary “tastes.”  What shows up in my imagination here is:  soy sauce, celery, smoked salmon, and bacon. 

  • Soy has been in my life since my first Japanese or Chinese restaurant experience, and I’ve always doused my rice or veggies or even my roast chicken with it. It tastes like a liquor sometimes, it tastes of the earth, and it seems to elevate the flavor of whatever you pour it over. 

  • When you bite into a stalk of celery, you taste both moisture, crunchiness, and salt. Very satisfying. 

  • And the salty tang of smoked salmon is a perfect match for the crème fraiche or cream cheese we all usually slather over this taste treat.  Bacon – what can be said of bacon except it’s savory and greasy, versatile and begs to be relished ?  It’s one of the few animal derived meats I don’t have qualms about eating!

How do you feel about SOUR?  Do you see it in your repertoire of foods? 

  1. For me, lemons come first, magical lemons that accomplish everything from garnishing a glass of iced tea to pouring their juice into a lemon tart.  Lemons are essential on certain kinds of grilled or raw fish, they are important for my mayonnaise dip for artichokes, they are perfect over grilled asparagus and add wonderful tang to the inside of a roast chicken. 

  2. Rye bread is sour and tangy and perfect for presenting smoked fish, or just having as a piece of toast with butter.

  3. Vinegar of course comes to mind with its amazing permutations.  Balsamic, wine, raspberry, champagne, and so on... We need vinegar to balance the rich olive oil for a salad dressing, we need it for marinating vegetables and such, and flavoring soups and stews.  

I have always been a fan of BITTER...

  • I particularly love radicchio and chicory in the vegetable family that add an astringent and crunchy experience to any salad;

  • I love rosemary that woody herb that I always cast on top of roast chicken; and

  • I find coffee’s bitterness very attractive.  I’ve been a coffee drinker since I lived in Italy as a young girl, and I favor the dark roast of espresso particularly.  Bitterness wakes us up, I think, and keeps us alert to what we’re eating and drinking.

These days we hear a lot about the flavor of UMAMI – this is a Japanese term for savory and rich.  It covers a lot of territory in terms of foods but what comes to mind first is mushrooms, tomatoes, and seaweed.  You might think it hard to interrelate these foods, and in some ways I do too.  But I also get it.  Umami foods seem to be to possess layered flavor that takes us back to the earth. 

  1. With the mushroom that connection is obvious – think of the forests where mushrooms live in the magnificent dampness. 

  2. When I put my nose to a completely fresh tomato, I immediately smell the sunshine and earth that it grew from. 

  3. And with seaweed, how can we not remember that it comes from our salty ocean waters? 

I don’t know which of these umami flavors pleases me the most... imagining now the deep savory hit of grilled mushrooms, and the glory of the red tomato in a BLT, and the little seaweed-wrapped pieces of nigiri in our favorite Japanese bistro.  

Is it about a subtle marriage of flavors or does each of these foods have an intrinsically complex quality?  I don’t know.  But I do know that all of these foods draw me back again and again so I may have a particularly happy and pleasurable experience.  So that I can discover deliciousness.

With gratitude for food and to you for reading my words and taking my books home!

Mag

P.S. Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

Mag DimondComment
Let’s Talk about the Pleasures of Food

As I continue to be immersed in my new book, I have had many food subjects on my mind. One of the things I’ve learned so far is that the principle of pleasure is at play when we devour food, whether it’s a hamburger, a peach, or a magnificent roast goose. We come to love certain foods because they FEEL good in our mouths and in our tummies.

Research tells us that even back in the ancient history of animal and man creatures experienced pleasure when it came to feeding themselves. There’s always a challenge describing the sensation of, say, lemons in our mouths, or of the sting of garlic, or the magnificence of nutty green olive oil on our tongues... so when you take a stab at this, you must pause, reflect, take yourself back to an actual experience of eating, rest there, and feel into that experience.

It’s challenging and fun at the same time.

I’m a sensory writer, for sure, as anyone who has read Bowing to Elephants can attest to. I took great pleasure in describing the African landscape, the feel of Venice in winter, and the magnificent pastas cooked by our housekeeper Elda when we lived in Florence. What’s true is that I’ve been fixated on food most of my life. I’ve thought a lot about food, and love using evocative words to conjure a feeling, emotion, or state of mind.

• Why don’t you think about a word or phrase that could conjure the experience of strawberry ice cream? Or a perfect grilled cheese sandwich...

The food I deeply love is usually the savory kind (as opposed to sweet, or bitter). Here is a sampling: soft scrambled eggs, grilled eel (sorry for those of you who are squeamish), chickpea soup, baked potatoes, salmon, clams, artichokes, roast chicken, fried egg sandwiches, BLTs, avocados, caviar, bread stuffing, soft brie cheese, and baby green beans.... and that’s just a start!

I learned to love roast chicken because I had it as a kid (my mother managed to cook this bird well, with proper crispy golden skin and moist succulent legs) and it soon became comfort food for me, and I decided scrambled eggs could be heavenly after a good friend taught me the way to cook them perfectly – the key being lots of butter and a wooden spoon, I discovered an affection for smooth chickpea soup laced with garlic and rosemary that I learned to make in a cooking class in Tuscany.

• What are foods that you have come to love ? Consider reflecting on this and sharing with the rest of us...

Some foods came to me in interesting restaurants or on my various travels, OR from some unique person in my life – the grilled eel showing up in any number of terrific Japanese establishments (San Francisco), the BLT made to perfection by my ex mother in law using her perfectly ripe red tomatoes and dark crisp bacon, the green beans showed up in so many Paris bistros on a family summer trip – “haricots verts” they were called and they complemented many main courses from sole meuniere to grilled steak, and I discovered clams during the few summers I took my family to visit my mother in Long Island – dug out of the sound the very same day, and briny and juicy as can be. We ate them by the bag full, complete with wildly hot horseradish, lemons, and tabasco, accompanied often by glasses of crisp white wine.

Our favored foods are so often connected to family stories, to members of family or dear friends. Why? Because when we learn to cook, or when we sit down to eat, we are always in communion with others, and thus our understanding and our preferences for food connect us to those special folks.

• What meals or events connected you to certain foods? What about that lemon meringue pie your daughter made for a birthday party, or those perfect raw oysters offered up at your favorite SF bistro where you drank champagne and celebrated a newfound independence? Think on that connection between food and relationship, food and love...

Food nourishes us and keeps us alive for sure, and it is also there to bestow love and connection with our world. And as I’ve been saying for a very long time now, LOVE is what it’s all about in this human journey.

With gratitude and hope that we can continue this conversation,

Mag

P.S. I invite you share your thoughts with me about food (and beyond)!

P.P.S Photo by Cristina Anne Costello on Unsplash

Mag DimondComment
Finding the Through Line

I have a deep and abiding love of food: enjoying, preparing, and sharing it with others. This has permeated my life story, is part of my being. During the pandemic, I felt inspired to write a personal work about food – what I had learned, what I loved, and why food was so profoundly important.

The journey has been a bit of a struggle which felt illogical but it had everything to do with the isolation and fears that surfaced during the scourge of Covid. Evocative words from my memoir Bowing to Elephants danced in my head:


“… Elda, in the house, and she served us our dinner in the giant living room by candlelight, of course: a big white tureen of soup and platters of steaming eggy fettuccini, crusty scaloppine alla Milanese, and a perfect green salad. “Ecco, il pranzo! Buon appetito!” she’d announce proudly as she beamed at my mother and the rest of us.”

With those words dancing I still had a difficult time finding my larger vision. Yes, I had written and published a successful travel memoir and received great reviews... I knew how to write a book... And yet...

With about 100 pages written, I hit what felt like a creative wall or perhaps more like a swamp of distractions. This last September I decided to join a writer’s masterclass, believing it would not only keep me focused during my time of lengthy recuperation from leg surgery, but it would also give me a solid reason to build on the food book I envisioned back in the time of illness and isolation when food was such a poignant subject. The timing seemed right now because of course I had plenty of time!

I had accumulated numerous what I called “mini chapters” at the beginning of this project, putting them to rest later when I allowed that “wall” to get in my way. When I returned in September 2022 to all these bits and pieces of what I liked to consider my unique food wisdom, I had the sense I was looking at the scattered (sometimes charming) character of my mind and still wasn’t finding it easy to see the through-line.

Since the beginning of this course, I have been scribbling here and there, trying all the while to not be derailed by my monkey mind, yet continuing to feel less than focused. Then after writing a short piece about my volunteer work at St. Anthony’s soup kitchen in San Francisco and sharing that with a smart writer friend, I began to understand where the root of my book’s vision was.

It was rooted in that direct experience of standing on my feet for many hours each week feeding hundreds and hundreds of street people who flocked to St. Anthony’s every day for perhaps the only meal of their day. I stood there amongst fellow volunteers and offered warm healthy food to desperate men and women who generally led invisible lives... I was helping to save those lives. The joy I felt in this generous work taught me that when you give to the world you create happiness for others, AND you receive way more than you have given.

Bingo. My throughline!

I’m writing not only about the beauty of artichokes, oysters, olive oil, roast chicken, and pears, and just why Twinkies do not qualify as food, but about: service, community, changing lives, and love. As I have reflected on the giving and receiving, I realized that food has always equaled love, and if loving others can change their lives, so can feeding them. It turns out that for much of my life I had been moving toward being of service, and right now when I give my time to feeding the hungry I am transforming my urban world through kindness.

I hope that this intimate collection of food knowledge, including a call to action for my readers to become more involved in their world, will bring pleasure, bountiful awareness, and perhaps an insatiable curiosity about all the food we have the privilege to eat.

With gratitude,

Mag

Mag DimondComment
Mag Is Writing Again!

The last time I reached out from this place we were in the midst of summertime, I believe, and my world was looking quite different than it does now. (Thankfully, now I’m writing again!)

I was saying goodbye to my podcast (BOWING TO ELEPHANTS), and committing to penning my second book: For Love of Artichokes and Scrambled Eggs; A Compilation of Food Wisdom from an Extraordinary Life.

All looked wide open and possible…

And then in August I had a bad fall in my home and broke my right leg in two places. So much for the wisdom I was trying to recite to myself about not climbing up on step-stools!

On the kitchen floor I experienced yet another light bulb moment about how we must admit to our vulnerabilities and LET GO of our obsessions about achievement.

I’ve gone through surgery, hospitalization, nursing home care, and am now finally returned to my San Francisco home and recuperating there. Because I am 77, it is a slow process. And then there is the pain, lack of sleep, isolation (can’t drive of course), and occasional whiney voice that murmurs, “Why me? Why now?”

The good news is that gratitude is still alive and well with me, and so I spend a piece of each day feeling thankful for ALL the friends and family who have shown up for me, to support this return journey of mine.

Because of this support I’ve been able to kickstart my food memoir, have read a few good books at a wonderful leisurely pace.I’ve been able to watch a lot of old British murder mysteries (favorites of mine), host a family thanksgiving at my home, and continue working with a wonderful young physical therapist who is teaching me a lot about walking, the astonishing complexity of our bodies, and about my own innate strength in the face of this adverse situation.

So gratitude accompanies me these days even though I may occasionally wince in pain.

I want to bow to you and let you know I’m planning to return to my site with more writings in the months to come. More will come about the new book; some excerpts, and certainly more will come on mindfulness and its gifts.

I’m excited to begin to share my words with you again, and I look forward to hearing from you with questions about the Bowing to Elephants Audible book (pretty successful, I hear!), or whatever else seems to be bubbling up in right now!

How amazing it is, really, that I get to inhabit this very body and have this life. What a wealth there is yet to learn!

Warmest wishes for a peaceful, love-filled holiday season.

And my deepest gratitude to you! 

Mag

Mag DimondComment
Letting Go, Celebrating, and Moving On

Welcome to the final episode of the Bowing to Elephants Podcast. It is with bittersweet feelings that I announce I'm discontinuing the podcast, just for the time being. Life is calling me to address different creative work right now.

I appreciate all of you who have steadfastly listened to the show. Here today to help me reflect on the last six months and discuss my next adventure is my friend and cohort, Ben Gioia. 

Listen to this episode and join us as we discuss:

• Why Mag originally started the podcast, what she learned along the way, and the wide array of guests who joined her on the show

• Mag’s next steps (teaching meditation and writing her next book: a food memoir)!

• Who Mag would host on the show if she could have just one more guest (whether alive or not)

• The recent death of Thich Nhat Hanh, his life, his legacy, and his poetry

Discover more about this episode on the Bowing to Elephants Podcast, which you can listen to here.

Enjoy the show, and let me know what you think!

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My deepest gratitude to you! 

Mag

P.S.

In case you missed it, check it out at bowingtoelephantspodcast.com and follow, rate, and leave a comment!


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