Hal̩ Sofia Schatz РHeart of Nourishment

Halé has been teaching and traveling in the Mediterranean region of Turkey. This area is exceptionally fertile and has abundant varieties of vegetables, fruits, seeds, nuts, herbs, olives, and goat cheeses. The scenes shown here are from the mountainous areas near the coastal city of Antalya, where she has been teaching her spring and fall programs.

How the Cleanse allows for integration of body, mind and spirit. Interview conducted Spring 2006.

A selection of photos from Halé’s workshops at the Hillside Su Hotel in Antalya, Turkey.

Fall 2005/Winter 2006 — Climate and geography provide the foundation for the kinds of foods that can be grown in a particular area. In Freiburg, Germany, where my friend lives, cooler weather crops are in abundance now at the local markets: root vegetables, bitter greens and radishes. On Oahu and Maui and, where I have spent some time retreating, the juicy sweet fruits, leafy greens, bitter herbs, starchy roots, and plenty of fresh caught Pacific fish are all readily available at the local markets. Farmers in both Freiburg and the Hawaiian islands offer hardy market choices through all the seasons. In this way the land is nourished and protected, the farmers are sustained, and people are more connected to the process of feeding themselves with simplicity and grace.

No matter which climate you live in, pay attention to how many local foods you are consuming. Making an effort to simplify your choices, making seasonal adjustments and eliminating some of the foods that travel thousands of miles to your table will allow you to expand into a deeper awareness of who you are really feeding.

Fall 2005/Winter 2006 — Foods that are grown in the local climate where you live provide a powerful connection to how you nourish yourself. Whether you are in a cooler climate as in Freiburg, Germany or on a tropical island in Hawaii, locally grown foods are always the wisest choice.

Farmers markets on the islands of Maui and Oahu

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Farmers market in Freiburg, Germany

October 2005 — I have just returned from my travels in Istanbul and other parts of Turkey. Even with its hot climate, crowded conditions, and noisy markets, the abundance of local and regional food choices and the connectedness to the seasonal transitions support a deep inner balance.

My experience of the daily and seasonal rhythms in Turkey are always centered around the fresh foods and meals. The gracious and simple breakfasts with fresh goat and sheep cheeses, olives, yogurt, local fruits, and tea begin the day without the morning rush. The traditional glass of tea in the afternoon gently slows the pace of the day and allows one to reconnect with one’s inner rhythms. Visits to the local markets allow the shopper to choose the freshest and choicest vegetables, fruits, and fresh-caught fish of the day. Meals are prepared together and families slowly savor the tastes and the conversation well into the evening. I am struck by how everyone, everywhere, even the taxicab drivers with whom I often chatted, knew which foods were freshest in the market and exactly in which region of the country they were grown. This knowledge and connectedness with the local food is deeply rooted in Turkish culture and tradition. The reliance on the availability of seasonal local foods sustains a community connection to the harvesting process that, in turn, cultivates healthier food choices.

Here in New England, the autumn harvest is glorious in its beauty and richness of nature. But, autumn is also the transition time from the expansion of summer towards the retreating of winter. Just as the days get shorter and the nights longer, it is also a time of keeping the balance between the extensions in our lives and our inner awareness. The harvest season allows us enormous support for maintaining this connection and provides great stability. Foods found in farmers markets and grocery stores right now across the country are more local and fresh than at any other time of the year. These fresh local harvest foods allow us to gently transition from the heat of the summer towards the cooling months of autumn and winter. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually, these foods support and nourish us in the present and prepare us for the next season of our lives. This simple connection to our external environment provides greater support to balance our internal environment as well.

Following the inspiration from people in Istanbul, I encourage you to bring the freshest local and regional foods from this autumn harvest to your table. During this autumn transition, connect to farmers at your local market, ask questions about where your food comes from when you are in the grocery store, and choose wisely to nourish yourself. In this harvest season, give your yourself permission to slow down and invite yourself, your family and friends to a simple and fresh harvest meal prepared with joy and gratitude.

When we allow ourselves to connect to the seasons, we learn that balance is not in the extremes but, in the awareness of subtleties of the transition.

The farmers markets in Istanbul are a feast for the eyes as well all the senses. The local bazaars provide weekly community gatherings around the fresh produce, grains and beans, seeds and nuts, herbs and spices, eggs, fresh caught fish, olives and cheeses.

Serves 6
Preparation: 15 minutes
Cooking Time: 30 minutes
Seasons: All

• 4 small leeks
• 1 teaspoon extra-virgin olive oil
• 2 onions, thinly sliced and cut into half-moon strips
• 2 carrots, matchstick sliced
• 6 cups water
• 4 shiitake mushroom caps, thinly sliced
• 2 ounces firm tofu, cut into 1?2-inch cubes
• 1 teaspoon freshly grated ginger
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 2 tablespoons brown rice miso paste

Garnish:

• crumbled wakame sea vegetable
• coarsely chopped watercress or arugula leaves

1. Trim the roots off the leeks. Slice off and discard the tough green leaves from the tops of the leeks. Wash the remaining white and light green portions thoroughly in cold water. Make sure to rinse in between the layers, removing any sand. Shake dry and slice thinly.

2. Heat the oil in a large pot and sauté the leeks, onions, and carrots until the vegetables are soft. Add enough water to cover the vegetables and bring to a boil. Add the shiitakes, tofu cubes, grated ginger, and salt. Add more water for a thinner consistency. Reduce heat and simmer, covered, for 25 minutes.

3. In a bowl, dissolve the miso in 1/2 cup of the hot broth and add to the pot just before serving. Garnish each bowl with wakame and watercress or arugula.

Variation:
Replace the tofu with freshly baked white fish, such as cod.

Serves 6
Preparation: 15 minutes
Cooking Time: 60 minutes
Seasons: Fall/Winter

Roasted root vegetables have become my fall and winter mainstay. There’s nothing like the earthiness of roasted root vegetables to ground your energy and keep you warm on cold blustery days. I’ve discovered that the key to consistently delicious vegetables is roasting on very high heat with enough high-quality olive oil to coat all the vegetables.

• 1 large rutabaga (yellow turnip), cut into 2-inch chunks
• 3 medium beets, quartered
• 4-6 onions, quartered
• 2-3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1?2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
• dulse granules
• juice of 1?2 lemon

Preheat the oven to 450°. Arrange the vegetables in a casserole dish (a glass Pyrex dish works well). Add the oil, salt, and pepper and mix well. Cook for 45-60 minutes, stirring occasionally for even roasting. Remove from the oven and sprinkle with dulse granules and lemon juice.

Variation:
Just about any kind of root vegetable is delicious roasted. In addition to rutabagas and beets, try roasting any combination of carrots, parsnips, sweet potatoes, purple potatoes, and white potatoes. The tubers also can be cut into long, thick shoestring shapes for variety.

Welcome to Halé’s summer garden…

Serves 4-6
Preparation: 15 minutes
Seasons: Summer/Fall

• 1 pound firm tofu, crumbled
• 1/4 cup sun-dried tomatoes, soaked in hot water and drained
• 1/2 cup pitted black olives, rinsed in water
• 1/4 cup capers, rinsed in water
• 3 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
• 1/4 cup chopped flat-leaf parsley
• 3 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
• 1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
• freshly ground black pepper to taste

Place all ingredients in a blender or food processor. Blend or pulse until well combined and creamy. Use as a spread on rice cakes, as a sandwich filling, or as a dip with vegetables — great with sugar snap peas!

A large, stately, 75-year-old mulberry tree lives in my garden. Twelve years ago, I planted a rambling rose at its trunk to rise up to levels most roses cannot go. I supported the prickly ramblers so they could climb up the tree’s branches, but over the years it has never produced any flowers. During the time the rose would normally bloom, it was always in the shade of the mulberry’s lush green foliage and abundant berries. I have fond memories of the comical sight of raccoons, squirrels, birds, my children and their friends all climbing the tree’s branches to pluck the luscious red-black fruits. The mulberry was a gathering place for all of us at the beginning of summer.

The last few winters in New England have been more severe than usual, and many of the mulberry tree’s branches are now bare. This spring, it showed signs of dying. Meanwhile, this has been an exceptionally good season for all the roses in my garden. Yet among the dozen or more varieties, the rambling rose has been truly exceptional. For years the rose has quietly climbed the mulberry and this spring it took over the bare branches with hundreds of pearl pink flowers cascading 30 feet above the garden. We enjoyed this incredible display of beauty for more than a month. Family, friends, neighbors, students, clients, bees, insects and birds all gathered to receive this nourishment.

Besides creating space for the rambling rose to grow to its fullness in the sun, the dying mulberry tree has expanded the perimeters of the garden. Its branches used to shade parts of the garden so that it was impossible to grow many light-loving plants. Now the additional sunlight has given me the opportunity to plant dwarf plum trees as well as many other perennials that could not grow there before.

Although this is just another summer in the many seasons of my garden, it feels very significant that the oldest member, the most firmly rooted, is showing signs of letting go.

The bare branches of the mulberry tree now provide the perfect structure for the new growth to come into the light. Although I feel a certain sadness about its passing, as many of you have heard me say, in order to receive nourishment, we need to make space, and making space requires letting go of what is no longer necessary.

The addition of these fresh greens really wake up this soup, and make it a terrific spring tonic with cleansing benefits, such as stimulating the liver.

Serves 4
Preparation Time: 10 minutes
Cooking Time: 10-12 minutes
Seasons: Spring/Summer

• 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
• 1 small onion, finely chopped
• 10 fresh shiitake mushroom caps, sliced
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 4 cups boiling water
• 1-2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lime juice
• 1 1/2 teaspoons crumbled wakame or dulse sea vegetable
• freshly ground black pepper to taste

Garnish

• 1 cup mustard greens coarsely chopped
• 2 finely chopped scallions

1. In a medium soup pot, heat olive oil over medium heat. Add the onion, mushroom caps, and salt, and sauté for about 5 minutes or until the onion is soft.

2. Add the boiling water to the onion and mushrooms and cook for 5 more minutes. Turn off the heat and season with lime juice, sea vegetable, and pepper, adjusting as necessary.

Garnish individual bowls with mustard greens and scallions just before serving.

Ah, the harvest. When my children were young, we would go to local farms to pick apples, pears, peaches, cherries, plums, blueberries, and raspberries. While each fruit has its own special qualities, raspberries were always the family favorite.

Each September, we’d pick hundreds of raspberries. Of course, the children would eat more of the sweetly tart fruit than they accumulated in the little pails that hung by strings around their necks. Coming home with our bags of juicy red fruit, I would enter the kitchen as though personally heralding in the new harvest season, ready to make jam out of our bounty.

This year, like other years, I performed my ritual of raspberry jamming. I love the feeling of preparing food for the season when local produce is less available. For many of our mothers, aunts, and grandmothers, this was a natural cycle. As simple as it may seem, making jam aligns me to the deeper rhythms of our ancestors, who didn’t prepare for immediate consumption but for the long winter that lay ahead. I have a deeper appreciation for the sweet-tartness of raspberry jam in January than I do in September. One spoonful and it’s enough to bring summer back in all its glory.

I also know how much time, energy, and love goes into each small jar. I just sent one precious jar from the newest batch to my daughter at college. She told me that she’s eating it in small spoonfuls straight out of the jar, just a little bit every few days. This way, she said, she’s making it last, savoring the fruit of the season.

Serves 4-6
Preparation Time: 20 minutes
Cooking Time: 50 minutes
Seasons: Fall/Winter

• 3 dumpling squashes, halved and seeded
• 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• dulse granules or 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1 package (13/4-oz.) hiziki sea vegetable
• 2 medium onions, thinly sliced
• 1 red bell pepper, seeded and sliced
• 5 shiitake mushroom caps, sliced
• 2 teaspoons unrefined toasted sesame oil

1. Preheat the oven to 450°. Brush the inside of the squash halves with 1 tablespoon of the oil and sprinkle with dulse granules. Bake the squash halves in a shallow baking dish, cavity side up, for 30 minutes. Remove from oven.

2. While the squash is baking, prepare the hiziki stuffing. Place the hiziki in a large bowl and fill the bowl with enough cold water to cover the sea vegetable. Soak for 10 minutes, drain, and set aside.

3. In a large skillet heat 1 tablespoon of oil over medium-high heat and sauté the onions, red pepper, and shiitakes for 5 minutes. Stir in the drained hiziki and continue sautéing for another 10 minutes. Remove from the heat and drizzle with sesame oil. Fill each squash with the hiziki stuffing and serve immediately.

Note: If you cannot find dumpling squash, acorn and buttercup squashes are equally delicious.

My garden is one of my greatest teachers. At this point in the summer, it is lush and overgrown from all the rain we’ve had these last months. No matter how much weeding I do, the garden continues to have its own life — filling in, spreading, climbing higher, taking its full space.

Like most gardeners, I purchased extra plants at the beginning of the season to fill in here and there as my mood for various annuals and perennials changes over the years. Because we had such an extremely cold winter in the Northeast, I had to replenish more than the usual amount of perennials. I dug most of them into their new locations, except for the few I never got to.

One of the plants I’ve taken real pleasure in this summer is Echinacea. As most of you know, this plant has very healing properties. I also love its papery purple and white flowers. I planted the Echinaceas in generous areas of the garden so they could grow and expand, except for one lone white Echinacea that never made it into the garden, and has stayed in its small pot on the patio.

The timing of how each species of plant goes into flower or fruit is always miraculous to me. Sipping tea in my garden one morning, the white Echinacea caught my attention. I noticed how stunted the plant looked in the pot: even though it flowered, the heads were small and the stems were thin. By contrast, the ones planted in the garden with plenty of space and fertile compost have thrived and are now abundant with flowers.

The white Echinacea reminded me of a question I have been paying attention to most of my life: How do we feed and give space to allow our greatest flowering potential? We can live in small, contained pots or transplant ourselves to a more spacious area where we can be nourished more deeply and flower more vibrantly.

Serves 4
Preparation: 10 minutes

• 2 cups cooked or canned black-eyed peas, drained
• 1 small red onion, diced
• 2 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
• juice of 3 lemons
• 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly-ground black pepper
• 1 cup coarsely chopped fresh mint
• 1/2 cup chopped fresh tomato

In a large serving bowl, combine all the ingredients except for the mint and tomatoes. Mix well. Stir in the mint and tomatoes just before serving. Serve at room temperature.