If You Want Things To Be Different, Something Has To Change

When I lived in Memphis and belonged to the YMCA, at the beginning of every year I often had to wait my turn to use a treadmill.  It appeared that the entire city was motivated to exercise.  All times of the day and evening, the workout room was packed.  But by this time at the end of January, new year resolutions had grown thin and so had the crowd.

Change is difficult to achieve, because it does not arrive by Federal Express on our doorstep. Change is hard work.   Ruts are deep, and the humbling part is knowing that we are the ones who dug these confining trenches.  The longer we remain in our ruts, the deeper we sink into the miry bog.

But as overwhelming as it appears, the way out starts with one tiny step.  And then another.

I have learned to cook over the course of thirty two years of marriage, one recipe at a time, but then it appeared I was stuck with a small repertoire of faithful meals, served a few too many times.  What can I do different?  I have shared a few of my culinary misadventures on this blog.

But this fall, I took one more step, a commitment to trying one new recipe a week.  So far, so good.  Some were definitely "repeatable," and others, well, at least I tried. 

It is so much more fun to cook with our daughters, but since we are separated by distance, I gave each of them the same new cookbook for Christmas, Dinner:  A Love Story by Jenny Rosenstrach, a compilation of recipes and stories from her blog.  Separated by miles, my daughters and I are all trying new recipes and sharing with each other what worked and what didn't.  It is fun to be working through the same book together.  Our varying learning styles are coming to the surface, and  I am being held accountable to stick to the recipe.  Our youngest daughter said that substituting one ingredient was ok, but more than one changes the result. Ok, I will try to behave.

In the process, I am finding that these little incremental changes -- these deliberate efforts to do something new -- are helping me to incorporate other changes as well in my life.  It is far too easy to get bogged down in a familiar pattern, a schedule, a constant way of doing things.  It limits our vision,  keeps us on the same traffic pattern, ingrains "impossibility" into our mindset, and establishes mediocrity or boredom as a way of life.

Trying something new -- no matter how small -- becomes a catalyst for other things as well.   It enlarges how I think, expands my vision, and nurtures an adventurous spirit in me.

As I made last night's meal, a new recipe from our Christmas book, I questioned the outcome until Bill walked in from work and said, "Wow, something smells really good."  And it was, a great satisfying soup for a cold night in January, quick and easy to make.  Enjoy.

Kale, Sausage and White Bean Stew
adapted from Dinner:  A Love Story

1 chopped onion
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 garlic cloves, minced
Salt and pepper to taste
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1 1/4 lbs. Italian chicken or pork sausage,
             casings removed
1 - 32 oz. container chicken broth
1 - 14 oz. can diced tomatoes
2 - 14 ox. cans cannelloni beans, rinsed and drained
1 large bunch kale, washed, stems removed,
       and chopped into small pieces
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar


Saute onion in oil until softened, add garlic, salt,
pepper, and pepper flakes.  Add sausage, breaking up
with a fork and browning until cooked through.
Add tomatoes and beans.  Bring to boil. Add kale.
Simmer until wilted, stir in red wine vinegar.  Ready to serve.

(Cannelloni beans are just white kidney beans. 
I substituted fresh spinach for the kale - since I already had
a bag.  Once the sausage was cooked, I drained off
the fat, and then put all of the ingredients into a slow
cooker on high setting, until ready to serve.
I also added 1 tablespoon Mazola chicken bouillon
seasoning to intensify the flavor).
Serve with fresh crunchy bread and fresh fruit.

I am delighted that there are leftovers.

Next week, another step, another recipe.