Let's get physical!
In a world rushing towards technology, let’s walk in the rain (+ spring cauliflower salad)
Dear friend,
I originally wrote some of these words last year, when our family was happily resting in rural Italy for the month. It sounds posh and lavish, but we bled out to make the trip happen for our family and I’m so grateful that we did.
Looking back at my journal entries and writings from this time, I see how easily words slipped from my lips as this piece of my soul wakened up to the type of future we desire for our family. These memories are worth far more to me than money in the bank and the sentiments remain true; even deeper than before.
Stu and I are making painful choices to keep our future human and entwined with our gifts, dreams, and calling. Because even if they don’t come true, dreaming is what dreamers do.
My boot heels struck the cobblestone street loudly, echoing through the small alley-way that leads from our house to the vegetable market, not more than five hundred yards into the heart of the village. Passing a favorite cappuccino spot, I turned over my shoulder to wave at Patrizia who was helping a customer from behind her small coffee bar. A cappuccino at her bar cost a euro fifty. To say I’ve become a frequent customer may be a slight understatement.
Walking further up into the village, my scarf waving gently in the cool breeze sweeping through the medieval village and bouncing off the red brick houses, I offer a few more waves to village locals that have come to expect my daily journey to-and-fro. Alone at the moment, I begin to take notice of activities around me: shop keepers sweeping off the sidewalk, construction workers stretching out plastic orange netting as they begin mixing mortar, the vegetable suppliers that comes to the village on Wednesday and Thursday setting up shop for the morning next to la chiesa, a group of locals gathered outside the newspaper stand, and new mothers pushing strollers on their way to the supermarket.
What I notice, primarily, is the lack of phones. Espresso bars are for catching up quickly with friends, perhaps lingering over a cornetto if the morning allows. In these hallowed spaces, one rarely finds laptops or scrolling, instead often finding a group of girlfriends chatting loudly or an elderly couple making their morning outing. Work is reserved for work, play for play. This delineation seems clear and important culturally. Perhaps it’s a means of preserving a piece of humanness…. or finding a valuable identity outside of what’s on our business card.
Naturally, being a fairly reflective person, I ask myself:
is this the future for those who chose it?
Like the many traditional societies that live amongst us, will those of us who chose a life in the flesh become an ancient relic - seen as those to be pitied? Or less than?
While our fellow man will fills his home with smart-devices, trading dirty hands and sweat-equity for the luxuries technology offers, will we become a time-capsule into how life used to be, over time creating a chasm of what we consider “normal”?
I continue my walk slightly up hill, nearing the vegetable market that I’ve set my eyes on. Today, I’ll be picking up some cavolfiore and olio for a salad to go with tonight’s roast. Though the past few days have been sunny and warm, today reminds me that it’s only March in the Umbrian hills, and I wrap my button up coat tighter around me with my arms. Looking up, I try to decode this new piece of sky that I've called home for the past few weeks. I’m guessing, but I sense rain - a gift we don’t often receive in the high-deserts of central Washington.
Though I’m living quite the “city life” in this village of 9,000 people currently, my heart remains in the campagna, that is the country. My soul holds space for a rooster crowing, a garden to water, an animal to milk, and jars of jam to make. These are my delights and my gifts. This being the case, I continually think of an expanded future in person. Where more people belly up to my table, their hands dusted with flour as they shape pasta or loaves of bread. I think of empty bottles of wine, the fragrance of bouquets of herbs cut from the garden, a roasted chicken - raised, harvested, and enjoyed on the very same land.
My prayer for the future is more physical. Where humans and experiences are most welcomed. Where there are hugs and handshakes. Where there is the literal breaking of bread.
By sharing our recipes with our Cooking Community, and by our members adapting these in their own kitchen, we meet them in a physical way. In tangible plates that change the course of their family table. This is so meaningful to us.
As are our Italian Retreats, which serve as an opportunity to share mountain-top moments and meals with small groups of guests in the flesh; in which we we sip the same wine, breathe the same air, let the same music dance over our ears. (Two spots remain for our next September trip if you’d like to join us. This time, you’ll get to meet the whole family!)
This is all very, very intentional towards a future I want to be a part of. The dreams don’t stop there. But dreams need time to grow.
Looking into a future where advancing technology could easily rob us of our important pieces of our humanness, old-fashioned dreamers like me will continue to work towards a future where our food is raised in soil, our animals have names, our table is worn and our eggs gather in baskets. And we’re alongside others who feel the same.
I’ve now made the final steps up the hill and arrived at the market. Azzura greets me and we begin the dance of gathering up vegetables, grown on the farm less than a mile away. Today’s basket is laden with oranges, fennel, onions, cauliflower, and baby artichokes. I add a dozen eggs into the basket at the last minute and we spend over fifteen minutes conversing in my broken Italian about our children, the attraction (or lack thereof) of the big cities, the mouth feel of butter versus olive oil, and how to best prepare the cauliflower salad I’m keen on making (recipe below).
Bag in hand and buzzing from the conversation, I find myself trekking down the hill towards home, giving thanks to God for the humanness that makes our life messy, tangled, vibrant, chaotic, emotional, and so incredibly beautiful.
I saw some grey hairs in the mirror today and frankly, felt gratitude for those too. Twenty-year-old Shaye who visited Italy for the first time would have been proud of thirty-eight-year-old Shaye continuing to dream here. Even if they don’t come true.
And now, it’s raining ❤️
Cauliflower Salad
INGREDIENTS
1 head cauliflower
2 bunches green onions, finely chopped
2 cups fresh mint, minced
2 cups fresh parsley, minced
½ cup fresh dill, minced
1 cup toasted pumpkin seeds
½ cup lemon juice
½ cup olive oil
1 tablespoon freshly minced ginger
½ teaspoon sea salt
½ teaspoon maple syrup
INSTRUCTIONS
1. Cut the cauliflower head (removing any extra green leaves) into a dozen or so pieces. Add these pieces into a food processor and process the cauliflower (pulsing the food processor helps) until it’s broken into very small pieces. Add the cauliflower to a large bowl.
2. To the same bowl, add the green onions, mint, parsley, dill, and pumpkin seeds.
3. In a small bowl, combine the lemon juice, olive oil, ginger, sea salt, and maple syrup. Whisk to combine.
4. Pour the dressing over the salt and toss well to combine and ensure all of the salad is dressed evenly. Allow the salad to marinate for 30 minutes before serving.
Love,
PS: If you want to visit this same village in Umbria with us this September, two rooms remain! Learn more here about our all-inclusive Italian Retreats or claim it as yours.
This is- duh- reminding me of LOTR. Hoping for a future of Shire-ness, all the while feeling the evil eye closing in. 🤪 Cheers to Frodo-ing in world of AI orcs. 🥂