Sometimes life sails smoothly by and that’s when I least notice its passing. It’s mostly when I’m nudged by those waves, threatening a storm, that I truly appreciate its glory and its humanity. This week, I felt a little like a capsized boat. I was tossed here and there by medical issues. I started out the week by dealing with the removal of two moles when I went for my annual physical. It continued with a visit to the dental surgeon in South Bend to have some work done on my gums. It ended with a quick mid-night trip to the emergency room. I usually enter these kinds of situations by thinking positive thoughts. But I discover that I never know entirely what the results will be. Though I’m told what will happen and what can happen, I can only live through it to truly experience it. Don’t worry! In all of these cases, the results were the best possible outcomes. But when I’m the middle of living them, I find myself on an uncertain footing, not knowing where it will all lead. Here is where the element of hope plays in. I hope for the best and at the same time I try to be realistic about the living of it.
So how does this relate to food, you say? Well, after going to the dentist, I discovered that I was supposed to eat only soft foods until my mouth told me it was O.K. to chew again. So I planned meals of brothy soups and applesauce, pudding and vegetable spreads. And all of a sudden, I realized that I was going to miss a whole lot of textures and flavors. I saw visions of crusty French breads and chunky granola out of reach for breakfast. I had to forego crisp radishes and baby turnips now available at the market. And seasonal rhubarb crunch could not stay on the dessert menu. I could no longer snack on carrots and nuts. I pretended that a whole world of food did not exist. I found myself trying to enjoy more subtle flavors. And luckily, ice cream was allowed!
My mouth healed quickly and now that its world has opened back up to me, I relish that first noisy crunch into celery and carrot. I savor the texture of pizza crust and croissant dough. I appreciate the grainy feel of cracked wheat on the tongue. I enjoy the crispness of stir-fried peppers and onions. I also find that food is a healer. After spending time in more institutional and sanitized medical settings, it’s good to see real food. Today, on the table, side by side, I see sliced moist red tomatoes, white and green zucchinis, smooth avocados, curly red cabbage, fine sprouts and creamy white goat cheese spread. I eye shiny red peppers, ruby beets and fragrant mint leaves alongside chewy golden focaccia bread. All that color and all that texture brings me back to life and I find myself getting back into the groove. Good food heals the mind and the body. I hope that as spring turns into summer, it will continue to feed me.
When I was thinking about soft foods, I remembered a recipe for a dessert that my Belgian best friend’s mother, Anny LeFort, made when strawberry season rolled around. My mother also made it at our house from strawberries picked in our backyard beside our red-gravelled lane. Thank you, Mother, for passing on this recipe!

Strawberry Mousse (Mousse aux fraises)

Combine:
4 egg whites and 1 c. confectioner’s sugar in double boiler and beat with electric beater on medium for 10 minutes or until the mixture is a brilliant white and takes shape (but not stiff). Cool.

Mash:
1 quart of washed and hulled strawberries and add juice of one lemon.

Beat:
1 c. heavy whipping cream.

Fold strawberries and whipped cream into the cooled egg white mixture. Keep cool in refrigerator until time to serve. Serves six.

Published in the Goshen News, May 26, 2008